knew patience was what this situation required. If you keep putting your questions out there, sooner or later, the answers find their way to you. Eventually Nico and I would have our showdown, and my face would be the last he'd see when I gave him the kiss of death.
"This place is cute, Nina," I commented when we walked right in to the slick two-level club/lounge in the Meatpacking district.
"Isn't it? The who's who always comes to this spot. Getting a table is damn near impossible, but with Jamal's connections it was smooth sailing. Now that he is the president of Atomic Records, everywhere I go, I get red carpet treatment. Red carpet, I thought to myself, this chick is straight tripping. Talk about Hollywood, Nina acting like she's Halle Berry or some shit like that. Unfucking believable.
"Yeah, it seems pretty exclusive," I said noticing Janet Jackson and Jermaine Dupri at a corner table. "What's the name of this spot again?"
"AER. Do you want to stay up here or go downstairs?" Nina inquired.
"It's up to you."
"I'll show you around then we'll come back upstairs, because this is where our table is." I followed Nina downstairs and the spot felt like an intimate private VIP room. The floor was transparent with a pulsing video projection underneath. Lining the room were plush suede couches with Lucite armrests. Nina then showed me two smaller rooms, one with nothing but a few antique throne chairs and a movie playing on the wall. The spot was definitely official.
After Nina gave me the tour we went back upstairs and Young Jeezy's new single was blasting from the speakers. The crowd was dancing on the thickly upholstered ottomans and when they would come up for air, they'd grab a drink from the metallic cocktail tables. Some other patrons were getting their party on by dancing on the banquettes and the carpeted platform that wrapped around the room. The `it' crowd was predominately white with a sprinkle of black people, but the music was all hip hop so I was cool.
The moment we sat down, the waiter approached with two magnums. "Nina, did you order some champagne before we got here?"
"Nah," she said shaking her head.
"Sir, we didn't order no champagne, at least not yet."
"These are complimentary," he replied.
"From who?"
"Who cares," Nina said with her face lighting up. "It's free, and top of the line bubbly." Nina broke out into a little celebratory dance, grinding in her chair. "Can you pour me a glass?" The waiter obliged and poured both of us a glass. In the middle of her sipping, Nina nudged my arm. I turned in the direction she was nodding her head to see what looked like some NBA players were walking through the entrance.
"I told you, Nina, I only fuck wit thug niggas."
"First of all, there are a lot of athletes that's straight gangsta with theirs."
"Name me one?" I gave Nina the screw face waiting for her answer.
"Allen Iverson." Nina paused and stared at me. "Him, and all his people carry heat." That I could believe. I didn't know who too many basketball players were, but I could see Allen Iverson being `bout it, `bout it.
"Whatever, he ain't in that crowd, besides he's married with enough kids to start his own NBA team."
"Girl, you so crazy, I'm engaged anyway. I was just playing with you, but it doesn't hurt to just flirt a little bit. We're just having fun." I continued to drink my champagne, as Nina made eye contact with one of the players. To her delight they were seated at a booth across from us. Before long the dudes were offering us drinks and shit, even though we had two big-ass bottles sitting on our table. But Nina didn't care she accepted them anyway. Then they started motioning their hands for us to come join them, and I pretended that I didn't see that shit.
"Precious, they want us to join them. Let's go over there." Nina was all giddy. I really wanted to scream at Nina and tell her I didn't think Jamal would approve of her ho-ass antics. But I was trying to befriend her so she'd feel
"This place is cute, Nina," I commented when we walked right in to the slick two-level club/lounge in the Meatpacking district.
"Isn't it? The who's who always comes to this spot. Getting a table is damn near impossible, but with Jamal's connections it was smooth sailing. Now that he is the president of Atomic Records, everywhere I go, I get red carpet treatment. Red carpet, I thought to myself, this chick is straight tripping. Talk about Hollywood, Nina acting like she's Halle Berry or some shit like that. Unfucking believable.
"Yeah, it seems pretty exclusive," I said noticing Janet Jackson and Jermaine Dupri at a corner table. "What's the name of this spot again?"
"AER. Do you want to stay up here or go downstairs?" Nina inquired.
"It's up to you."
"I'll show you around then we'll come back upstairs, because this is where our table is." I followed Nina downstairs and the spot felt like an intimate private VIP room. The floor was transparent with a pulsing video projection underneath. Lining the room were plush suede couches with Lucite armrests. Nina then showed me two smaller rooms, one with nothing but a few antique throne chairs and a movie playing on the wall. The spot was definitely official.
After Nina gave me the tour we went back upstairs and Young Jeezy's new single was blasting from the speakers. The crowd was dancing on the thickly upholstered ottomans and when they would come up for air, they'd grab a drink from the metallic cocktail tables. Some other patrons were getting their party on by dancing on the banquettes and the carpeted platform that wrapped around the room. The `it' crowd was predominately white with a sprinkle of black people, but the music was all hip hop so I was cool.
The moment we sat down, the waiter approached with two magnums. "Nina, did you order some champagne before we got here?"
"Nah," she said shaking her head.
"Sir, we didn't order no champagne, at least not yet."
"These are complimentary," he replied.
"From who?"
"Who cares," Nina said with her face lighting up. "It's free, and top of the line bubbly." Nina broke out into a little celebratory dance, grinding in her chair. "Can you pour me a glass?" The waiter obliged and poured both of us a glass. In the middle of her sipping, Nina nudged my arm. I turned in the direction she was nodding her head to see what looked like some NBA players were walking through the entrance.
"I told you, Nina, I only fuck wit thug niggas."
"First of all, there are a lot of athletes that's straight gangsta with theirs."
"Name me one?" I gave Nina the screw face waiting for her answer.
"Allen Iverson." Nina paused and stared at me. "Him, and all his people carry heat." That I could believe. I didn't know who too many basketball players were, but I could see Allen Iverson being `bout it, `bout it.
"Whatever, he ain't in that crowd, besides he's married with enough kids to start his own NBA team."
"Girl, you so crazy, I'm engaged anyway. I was just playing with you, but it doesn't hurt to just flirt a little bit. We're just having fun." I continued to drink my champagne, as Nina made eye contact with one of the players. To her delight they were seated at a booth across from us. Before long the dudes were offering us drinks and shit, even though we had two big-ass bottles sitting on our table. But Nina didn't care she accepted them anyway. Then they started motioning their hands for us to come join them, and I pretended that I didn't see that shit.
"Precious, they want us to join them. Let's go over there." Nina was all giddy. I really wanted to scream at Nina and tell her I didn't think Jamal would approve of her ho-ass antics. But I was trying to befriend her so she'd feel
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