Still Hood Read Free

whole mutha fucka out and you’re sad? Help me out here.”
    True ran his hands over the stubble on his freshly cut head. “I know I should be happy, but it doesn’t feel right. Pain and Lex should be here for this.”
    Don B let out a sigh. “Here we go with this shit again. True, how long are you gonna beat yourself up about this shit. Them niggaz is dead and gone. I miss them too, but there’s only so long you can mourn the dead. You can kick yourself in the ass until it bleeds, but it won’t bring them back.”
    â€œI know,” True said sadly. “I’m just trying to make sense of all this shit.”

    â€œI got something for you to make sense of.” Don B slid closer to True and threw a muscular arm around the youngster. “In a few weeks your album is gonna hit the streets and sell like crack. We already got a guaranteed fifty thousand shipped, and that number is gonna double with this tour popping off. You’re the man, kid, like it or not. Now, you’re gonna get the fuck up and come fuck with some of these fine little bitches that came out to see you, smell me?”
    True managed to muster a smile. “Yeah, man.”
    â€œA’ight then, tighten up.” Don B patted him on the shoulder. A small cluster of people had begun to form around the entrance to the VIP, drawing Don B and True’s attention. When the bouncers were able to clear a path, Black Ice came sauntering over with two of the baddest bitches either of them had ever seen.
    â€œThe great and powerful Don.” Black Ice gave him a half bow, never relinquishing the arms of his women.
    â€œDon of Harlem, kiss the ring,” Don B joked, extending his gaudy pinky ring to Black Ice.
    â€œNigga, don’t play with me. I don’t kiss nobody but my mama, and that’s only on holidays. Show the proper respect.” Ice shot back. He spread his arms and he and Don B shared a manly embrace.
    Though their lives had taken two different paths, Don B and Black Ice had been friends since back in the PAL days. Even then it was apparent that neither of them would grow up to have regular nine-to-fives. While Don B’s uncles were teaching him about the drug game, Ice’s father was turning him on to the art of macking. Ice was in and out of the game all through his teenage years, but it wasn’t until his father was murdered that he jumped in the game headfirst. At twenty-three years of age, Black Ice was a respected and recognized player in every circle.
    â€œI’m glad you was able to make it out, Ice,” Don B said, reclaiming his seat.
    â€œYou know I wouldn’t miss ya boy’s coming out party. What’s good, True?” He gave the young MC a dap.
    â€œTrying to win,” True said modestly.
    â€œLooks like you’re doing more than trying, baby boy. All these
bitches do is pop their fingers to ya shit.” He nodded at the two girls. “Damn, where are my manners? Fellas, this is Wendy and Lisa.” He motioned to the black, then the white girl. They waved, but neither spoke.
    â€œDon’t talk much, do they?” Don B mused.
    â€œNot if it ain’t about a dollar.” Black Ice said flatly. “Ladies, take young True out there on the dance floor and let me and Don B rap for a taste.”
    â€œHold on, man,” True tried to protest, but the ladies were already pulling him to his feet. Giggling like two schoolgirls, Lisa and Wendy led True out to the dance floor.
    IT TOOK A MINUTE, BUT after True had a few drinks he managed to loosen up a bit. He had a bottle raised in the air and was sandwiched between Lisa and Wendy, getting his swerve on. Don B and Black Ice watched from the sidelines in amusement.
    â€œLook at that nigga trying to step,” Black Ice snickered. “Your boy is cold as hell on that mic, but he ain’t much of a dancer.”
    â€œShit, he ain’t gotta be. As long as that nigga move