“This baller nigga, from Newark, Thug Gee, is havin’ a party tonight at Studio 9. Word has it it’s gonna be packed with long dollars and thick dick.”

“Hmmph,” I grunted. “And a bunch of dick-thirsty Wal-Mart bitches,” I said, rollin’ my eyes up in my head. I really wasn’t in the mood for bein’ around a bunch of hatin’-ass hoes, especially them Jersey bitches, ’cause I already knew that the first one who eyeballed me recklessly or said somethin’ slick outta the side of her neck, I’d have to slide her ass. But I also knew them bitches didn’t really want it.

Although me and Chanel were restin’ across the dirty-ass Hudson here in Jersey while Tamia and Iris still parlayed in Brooklyn, it had been a minute since me and my girls all chilled together. Although Tamia and Iris were my girls, Chanel and I had been friends since second grade and I’d only been friends with Tamia and Iris since junior high. So my history with them bitches was a little different from the one with Chanel. Granted, Chanel was much tighter with them than I was, but I must say, for the last six or seven years, the four of us were thick as thieves and had a rep of rockin’ the hottest wears, pushin’ the slick-ass whips, fuckin’ the finest niggas, and turnin’ a club out. However, on some real shit, it was all an illusion ’cause along with that rep came some extra shit for a few of these hoes. But I ain’t gonna pull any cards right now. So, I’ma keep it cute, and keep it movin’.

Anyway, after thinkin’ ’bout it, it was a Friday night, and I really did feel like poppin’ and droppin’ it a bit. What the fuck, I thought. “Okay, trick, what time we rollin’?”

“Eleven,” she said. “Tamia and Iris are already here chillin’ at my spot. You want us to come through and scoop you?”

I looked down at my diamond bezel timepiece. It was ten after nine. “Nah, I’m drivin’,” I replied, shiftin’ the cordless phone from one ear to the other, walkin’ into my elaborate walk-in closet laced with all the illest shit from Chanel, Emilio Pucci, Vera Wang, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Hèrmes. “I’ll be there quarter of. Make sure you hoes are ready.”