The Grind Don't Stop by L. E. Newell Page A

Bug was definitely on her own as far as she was concerned.
    Joyce, the cutest and smartest with the most sense and courage, went over to the stage to help Nita Bug up, who was dizzy and quiet as a church mouse. Warbling to her feet, she reached over the shoulder of one of the male patrons, picked up a napkin off the table and began dabbing at the blood pouring out of her nose.
    Joyce grunted with the effort it took to lift and carry her groggy sister to the table with Baybay. When she was straightening up, she bumped into Sparkle’s chin, causing him to bite his tongue.
    He groaned and leaned back holding his mouth and mumbled, “Godayum, girl, shit, watch where the fuck you going, damnit.” He touched his tongue gingerly with the tip of his finger several times to make sure it wasn’t bleeding.
    Joyce, who had bent forward from the impact, spat angrily, “Damn, man, why the fuck you standing right behind me for?” He rubbed the back of her head vigorously. She turned around and gritted on him something terrible. Those brilliant green eyes of hers froze him to the spot.
    Sparkle arched his brow and grimaced, but before he could think of something nasty to retort, he heard Duke’s booming voice roaring from the entrance. “Whatz up, y’all? Big Duke’s in the muthafucking house.”
    He was smiling brightly as he twirled his huge hands wildly over his head. All three amigos could tell something was bothering him. By the time he reached the counter, his girl Cynt, hips swaying with rip the runway model swagger, came busting through the door clutching her ever-present gigantic purse. Damn thing was nearly bigger than her. She was a really cute little pixie who reminded most people of Jada Pinkett. Actually a lot of her friends called her “Little Jada” because of the resemblance and stature. She couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, with real bushy eyebrows and big dark brown eyes that looked even bigger behind a pair of round granny glasses that stayed perched midway down the bridge of her nose. What most people remembered most about her was her pouty red lips that always looked glossy and fit perfectly with her spunky attitude—one which made her the perfect little sparkplug to keep Big Duke grounded. And grounded was how she definitely kept his usually obnoxious ass.
    She came up to the counter as Duke was sitting down and placed her multi-bejeweled hand on his shoulder. He looked at her dangling hand and frowned before he forced a weak smile and turned back to his boys. He took a deep breath and somehow lowered his big voice to a mere whisper as he started explaining how he’d gotten fucked around at the 617 Club on Auburn Avenue. His voice was so surprisingly low that all three of his boys were forced to lean so close that their foreheads were mashed against one another.
    â€œMan, I know I had won at least seven or eight grand before this fight broke out between two of them niggas. One of them fools had claimed that he had barred the curve. Man, how in the fuck do you expect a nigga to respect a punk talking about he bar the curve? And then he started talking some dumb shit about he wanted his money back. Can you believe that shit there? Comeon, man, we all know that if you can’t keep the cheat off your ass in Georgia Skin, you be just a whipped muthafucka.”
    All his boys nodded in agreement. He continued with the boost of confidence. “Well, anyway, these niggas get in a scuffle and when everything settles down, my motherfucking money is gone.”
    The trio leaned back ready for whatever was coming next. Cynt stuck her face between them. “And he had a great big knot of money just like he said to y’all.”
    Big Duke smiled and patted her arm on his shoulder. “Anyway, to make a long story short.”
    â€œPlease do.” Rainbow couldn’t hold back from jibbing.
    Duke wrinkled his nose. “Fuck you,