Hood Don't Love You (HDLY#1)

Chapter eleven

“Y’all really need to change the name of this place,” Train said to the female bartender. “It sounds like one of those cheesy urban porno movie titles like Baby got back or Thicker than a Snicker.”

The bartender smiled and nodded. “I’ve been telling that fool to change the name to something else.”

“He’s corny anyway so it suits him,” Train smiled.

The bartender nodded again and then went to attend to another costumer.

Train glanced around. The place was getting packed. The bar was almost full with patrons surrounding it. Lucky he already had a seat in front of it. He checked out the clientele that strolled in after him. Some were the typical dudes he saw around the block but then a couple of big ballers came in. He heard that this lady contortionist stripper Staretta was a huge headliner and the best and grimiest of the hood elite came out to watch her perform.

Train focused back on his drink, a plain coke with no ice. Train didn’t like to drink alcohol too much. He liked to stay on point. Alcohol dull those senses. He learned that the hard way in a shape of a scar on his left cheek.

Train looked up to watch the next act go up on stage. Some girl named Lushus. Lushus’ breasts were ridiculously big. She always looked like she was smuggling watermelons in her shirts. Lushus loved those chest monsters to be sucked on and that was her big crowd pleasurer. She always had a person ready to suck those bad boys like a pacifier waiting in the VIP Suites after her set. Train knew Lushus prefer female to suck on them more than men but she wasn’t picky especially when it came to money.

“Well, well, look what the streets dragged in,” Train heard someone say behind him.

Train knew who it was without turning around. He watched her across the room making her way up to him at the bar despite all the men hounding at her for a lap dance or a request for a private session in the Suites.

“Hello, Marilynn,” Train said sipping on his soda.

“It’s Murda,” Murda corrected. “And where the fuck you been? Why you didn’t call me?”

“That’s the thing about phones,” Train answered. “You have to pick it up, hold it in your hands, look at your contacts, and hit the dial button because you want to talk to that person. You got all excited listening to the ring until you hear that ‘hello’. Yeah, that’s how phone calls should be. Unfortunately, when I make those phone calls, you wasn’t the person I was trying to hear that from so you know.”

Murda shook her head. ‘You’re an asshole.”

“No, I have an asshole,” Train said. “When we start naming people after body parts, I got a couple of cute little names I can call you. Want me to start?”

Murda folded her arms. “You know a lot of niggas want this.”

“That’s the truth,” Train heard the guy next to him cosign. “If he don’t want you, I’ll gladly take the spot.”

“Sure,” Train smiled. “Hope you got health insurance. Even the clinics start charging for prescriptions too. I heard they even got new cotton swabs. You won’t even feel it on your blisters.”

“Fuck you, Train,” Murda spat.

“That’s cold, dog,” the man beside Train said. “Why you playing shorty like that?”