Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick(72)
Kola had reserved a VIP area, one of six separate lounges, for her more important guests. She sported a beautiful ruby charmeuse slip dress with rhinestone studs and a pair of matching stilettos. And she styled her hair into a well-designed French bun with a few strands falling over her eye, giving her a sophisticated appearance and making her look twice her age.
She sipped on Cristal and mostly kept company with Cross, who paid for the entire event, taking balling to a whole new level. She loved him so much that when she looked into his eyes, it was hard to turn away without a smile. He was her joy, her kingpin that had promised to give her the world, and he was making good on his promise. He presented Kola with a few lavish gifts for her birthday—one being a pair of bezel hoop earrings with diamond drop briolettes that cost him ten stacks. His other gift to her was the black, drop-top BMW 650. Kola loved it all and was having her best birthday ever.
Cross wanted to make his boo happy and get her mind off whatever had been troubling her over the past few months, one being the problem with her sister and mother. He wanted his girl to feel like the queen she was to him. He showered her with gifts and power. Their names rang out simultaneously through the streets of Harlem. They’d bonded and fell in love so fast, Cross even thought about proposing to his young love.
Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white button-down with a pair of dark wingtip shoes, his bling gleaming and his braids long and fresh, Cross had the eyes of plenty ladies in the crowd, but he only had eyes for one. He moved through VIP with authority, his crew of thugs not too far from him. The couple popped numerous bottles of champagne, danced like they were on Soul Train, and did it up like it was the end of 1999.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he said to Kola then kissed her deeply.
“Them my niggas right there!” one of Cross’ soldiers shouted out. “Y’all muthaf*ckin’ clap for them. That’s f*ckin’ love right there!”
Among applause, the two kissed passionately for the crowd to see. VIP was the banging spot in the club. It was decorated with a dozen “Happy Birthday” balloons, a string of colorful ribbons, and there was a continuous flow of food and liquor. Scantily clad women swarmed to Cross’ clique and danced provocatively against the men, hiking up their short skirts and grinding on them.
The DJ unexpectedly started to play 50 Cent’s “In Da Club,” and the crowd went berserk. Those seated quickly stood up to join the others on the dance floor. Kola and Cross began to dance together closely, while the crowd started singing along with 50’s raunchy verse.
Champagne was being poured, and it seemed like the music had gotten louder. Not a soul was sitting or hugging the walls. Every foot moved, and every arm swung around with joy. Kola was in the mix of the party, having the time of her life. She was eighteen, but looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She was young in age, but more mature in the mind than anyone could imagine. It was her night, and she was going to celebrate until she couldn’t party anymore.
*****
The dark green Lincoln Navigator with tinted windows slowly moved its way down Third Avenue and then turned on Eleventh Street with a slow crawl before coming to a stop near the club, where so many people were gathered outside. The four doors opened up like it was orchestrated, and Apple and her goons climbed out of the truck, making their way to Cipriani’s.
They pushed through the thick crowd, by-passing the long line, and approached the team of security. Apple went up to the doors, and the main bouncer shook his head in disbelief, thinking he was seeing double. He looked at the twin in awe. They were too identical, from their beauty to their thick curves.
“This my sister Kola’s shit, right?” she asked the bouncer.
“Twins, huh?” the beefy bouncer responded.
“I’m in there,” Apple said.
“She got you on the list?”
Apple gave him a hard look. “What the f-uck you think? I’m her twin sister, right?”
The other bouncers looked dumbfounded, but to assure they would grant her entry, Apple handed the man a large stack, leaving him wide-eyed. “That’s all for y’all. Don’t spend it all in one place,” she said with a teasing smile.
The bouncers looked confused, but were easily bribed with a thousand dollars. They unhooked the velvet rope and allowed Apple and her small entourage of scowling goons into the mix of things.
Apple walked through the grand foyer and was greeted with a multiple of doors leading into a clubgoer’s paradise. The lighting, thick crowd, earsplitting music, and décor were fit for the birthday queen. Suddenly, Apple was overcome with jealousy. Her sister outdid herself, she had to admit. Seeing Kola’s name everywhere, in lights, on blocks of ice, and on the LCDs above, made Apple hate on her sister.
“Bitch thinks she’s P. Diddy now,” Apple joked lightly.
Her and her people moved through the jumping crowd, pushing their way toward the bar and catching wrongful looks from a few partygoers they nudged the wrong way. Apple managed to get herself a small VIP section, since she was ready to pay for bottle service.
“Fuck it!” she said to herself. “It’s my f*ckin’ birthday too!”
When some of the attendees saw her, they thought she was Kola. They rushed up to her eagerly, shouting out, “Happy birthday, Kola!”
Apple sharply replied, “It’s Apple’s birthday!”