Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick(65)

The two locked eyes, and it didn’t take long for her handsome stranger to leave his goon’s side and push his way through the crowd to approach her. Apple waited patiently for his arrival. She continued to dance, taking sips from the Mo?t. When he got near, she looked at him, but didn’t say a word.

He leaned in close to her ear and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“I don’t need a why,” he boldly spat back. “Just my question answered.”

Apple smiled, admiring his approach. It was stern, and to the point. She knew he was hood by his conduct. He towered over her, styling with his 18-karat Rolex watch, long, sparkling diamond chain, and diamond-encrusted earrings in both ears.

“Apple,” she said. “And yours?”

“Chico.”

Chico took Apple by her wrist and began dancing against her without her permission. He removed the Mo?t bottle from her hand and put it into the hands of a stranger next to them that dared not ask why. He moved against Apple with the same rhythm, keeping up with her flow. Apple worked her ass and hips against him, loving that he was on beat, unlike most niggas in the lounge.

They danced tightly together for a few songs and then moved to the bar, where Chico offered to buy her anything. When he invited her to his VIP section of the club, Apple didn’t hesitate to join him, forgetting about her own section. The two hit it off right away and conversed about everything.

Chico was from Washington Heights and was the man in the area. He was a four-key-a-week nigga with a vile crew underneath him, and he was articulate and smart.

“So you’re into loan-sharking and bookkeeping, huh?” Chico laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Apple asked.

“I just can’t see a beautiful woman like you shaking niggas down, especially in that dress.”

“What they say, never judge a book by its cover?”

“Yeah, but I’m ready to turn your pages.” Chico smiled.

“I’m not some weak bitch, Chico. I worked my way up and got mines just like the rest of you niggas out here.”

“And I’m not mad at you, Apple. I respect that. Shit, I don’t respect a lazy broad with her hand always out for something. You understand?” he replied, seriously.

Apple nodded.

“So, no boyfriend?”

“No. And yourself?”

“Nah. Can’t find a woman able to keep up with me.”

“And what is it that you’re looking for?”

“The female version of me,” Chico joked.

“You might’ve just found her,” Apple said, staring at him with meaning to her words.

Chico chuckled. He sat back in his seat, took a swig of Cristal, and looked at Apple with eyes that showed the thug in him. And Apple matched his with her own.

“I like you, Apple. You’re my kind of girl.”

“I try to be.”

Chico poured her another glass of the flowing champagne, and the two continued their talk. Apple was nestled next to him, feeling that tingling sensation between her legs as Chico spoke the sweetest things into her ear that she needed to hear. He made her pu-ssy jump. Chico was too sexy and exciting. He had all the qualities that she desired in a man—strong, fine, confident, and powerful. She wanted to f-uck him.

Chico made Apple forget about Cross and Kola. In her eyes, Chico was better than Cross, or so she tried to convince herself. But the two men had the same qualities, and with Chico running Washington Heights with his drug crew, Apple saw the perfect business opportunity for herself. If they were to link up and become a couple, she would definitely be the queen bee in the city. Chico would become her country with an army.

Chico admired everything about Apple and didn’t care for her age, though Apple did inform him that she had an eighteenth birthday coming up. He was young himself, twenty-three, and a woman like Apple on his arm would be the ideal match for him.

As the night continued on, she laughed and drank with him, music blaring in their ears. Everything was all good, except for the jealous eyes that peered over at Chico as he mingled closely with Apple.

The scowl on Guy Tony’s face was evident. He disapproved of Apple flirting with Chico and wanted to intervene, but he downed his brew and blended in with the crowd of revelers.

With dawn looming and the lounge’s crowd slowly dwindling, Apple decided she wanted to spend the rest of the night with Chico. They were going to stop and eat at a diner. Then she would see his place in Washington Heights.

Apple followed Chico to his cocaine-white 745 BMW sitting on polished chrome rims. Their short walk to his car was interrupted when Guy Tony called out to Apple from the exiting crowd of Velour.

“Yo, Apple! Where you goin’?” he shouted in a not-so-friendly demeanor.

Apple spun around on her heels and shouted back, “I’ll be back, Guy! Just chill out!”

Chico looked at Guy Tony and figured the man would a problem later on. He’d noticed the way Guy Tony stared at him throughout the night, his eyes showing a trace of hate. Chico smirked at him and continued to guide Apple toward his car.

“Apple, I need to holla at you!” Guy Tony called out again.

Apple, frustrated with his nagging, spun around on her heels and shouted, “What the f-uck you want, Guy? I need to talk about business!”

Guy Tony walked up to the two, ignoring Chico and focusing his look on Apple, and said, “I need a word wit’ you.”