Snatch (A Dave East Fic)

jordans

The most comfortable bad bitch you ever seen stepped out of the hotel room in all black. Black bodysuit with her titties fat and peeking through the deep v-neck like two thick cinnamon pancakes, black shorts that weren't long as nothing but super cute, and all black retro jordan 12's. The only things not black were her gold hoops that said Havana in cursive and the gold chain around her neck. Kevin's. She'd decided to keep it.

The show wasn't until the night so she had the day to explore Seattle. She took her long black braids down in the elevator, looking at her reflection as the floors counted down to the main level. Her parts were still clean. Her babyhairs were laid. Her skin glowed. She was cute.

On the street, she walked. Buildings, traffic, white folk. It ain't phase her she was just exploring because she could.

"EXCUSE YOU," she yelled at an older white man who'd bumped into her on the sidewalk. He expected her to move out of his way and when she didn't, he'd ran smack into her. He stood for a second like an idiot, expecting her to move again before finally walking around her and continuing on his way. One thing about Havana was that she refused to alter her path or go out of her way for two populations: men and white people. When she saw an older black woman, she moved.

Ducking into a small deli, she immediately noticed the group of niggas dispersed through the various small square tables like they owned the place. They all looked to be at home like they were in their mama's living room, legs stretched all out.
She made eye contact with none of them, staring at the one closest to the door's leg in disdain. He moved it and she passed by to the diner's counter looking up at the menu. Pictures of hoagies, paninis, soups, and large print words jumped out at her. 

Where was the person to take her order though? She was hungry and ready to get out of there because all them random eyes on her made her hyperaware. She figured, she could use her charm if push came to shove.. but really she didn't want to be bothered. This was grub time.

She pushed the small button on the silver bell hoping that would do something and a white guy with red hair and a gingered beard came out to take her order. A simple chipotle chicken BLT is what she paid for.

"Excuse me Miss," a voice called from behind. She turned to look the owner of the voice over noting that he wore no flashy jewelry. No flashy anything. Only thing that stood out on him was his sneakers, also Jordan's. She turned, ready to ignore him again. He didn't look like he had anything to offer her.

"You got a lil bug on the back of your shirt. You mind if I get that off for you?"

Bug? She nodded, standing still, trying not to freak out. She ain't fuck with bugs. He dusted her back gently and she turned noticing some sort of ladybug on the floor.

"Thanks." She made eye contact for the first time. He was aight lookin... somewhat attractive with a baby fro, deep skin and and sharp features. He nodded looking briefly to her cleavage before his eyes darted over to the counter. Her sandwich was ready. She reached for it as the guy opened his mouth to speak.

"How you feel about parties? You like YG or Blueface?"

What the fuck, Havana frowned. Why was he in her business? Because he helped her with a bug? He could've already have the bug in his hand for all she knew.

"I'm seeing them tonight," Havana offered taking a step back toward the door.

"Us too. You going to the afterparty?"

"Nah," she stalled ready to hear what he was talmbout. She still felt the gaze of every eye on her.

"Well this your invite if you wanna go with us. That's what we here in Seattle for. We can scoop you. Where you staying?"

She looked around at the faces and eyes of every guy present stamping them into her mind just in case things went left. "This hotel up the street," she pointed to the wall to the left.

"Us too," he smirked. "Gimme your info we'll link."

She gave him her snapchat.

Backing toward the door, she turned to make sure door nigga's leg wasn't in her way before leaving the deli. Outside, she looked around ignoring the eyes that were certainly still on her through the glass. She needed to make her way back to the hotel. If not for the A/C and to wait for a Lyft, then to have a place to eat her sandwich in peace and escape the niggas. That was as far as she cared to go on foot in that heat.