AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The speakers vibrated with hip hop music so hard that the walls thumped and shook with the beat.
Red lights spun in circles on the ceiling, moving along with the music, flashing in bright colors and patterns.
I leaned Tisha’s way. “Americans are interesting. They never know when the place is mine.”
“Give them time, cousin.” Tisha watched our people clear the strip club. “The longer you are in New Orleans, the more they will learn.”
My men moved through the space with their guns drawn, ready for any potential threat. Flashing lights illuminated their silhouettes. They scanned the room with trained eyes, checking every corner and shadow for danger.
Additionally, Harlem Crew weaved through the crowd—armed and emanating cold violence—their presence alone prompting patrons to rise from their tables and chairs.
There was no need for words.
The message was clear.
This is now the Lion’s club.
One by one, the club’s patrons got out of there, leaving a trail of whispered speculations and wide-eyed glances in our wake.
I looked at Maxwell. “Your people are more on point. I am impressed.”
“Italy taught them hard lessons.” Maxwell kept his gaze on a waitress’s ass as she maneuvered around our people. “Then, Nigeria tightened the lessons in their brains.”
“Interesting.” I bobbed my head. “Perhaps, I will not have to kill any Harlem Crew this trip.”
Maxwell snapped his view to me. “Fuck you, man.”
I shrugged. “I am being hopeful.”
“You know what?” Maxwell pulled out more stacks of bills. “I’m not going to let you fuck up my vibe tonight.”
I checked the door.
The club’s bouncers clearly found themselves on unfamiliar ground. They were now relegated to mere observers in their own territory as we transformed the club into our private playground.
My men flanked the bouncers and also took up positions at all entrances and exits.
It was a delicate dance of dominance, one played out in the language of silent stares and unspoken threats. The power dynamics within the club had shifted, and it was evident to all who now held the reins.
I finished my vodka and gestured at another waitress.
She rushed over. “Sir?”
“Another vodka.” I handed her the glass. “But this time bring the bottle.”
Tisha nodded. “Two bottles.”
“Fuck it.” Maxwell laughed. “Three bottles. It’s a party.”
And how is my mouse?
I checked over my shoulder, my gaze cutting through the dimly lit space, and caught sight of Emily and my sister.
There you go.
Lemon and several armed Harlem Crew females remained with them.
They were stationed at the main stage, their expressions a mix of amusement and admiration as they threw twenty-dollar bills onto five topless dancers that only wore black G-strings. The women moved in perfect synchronization, their breasts bouncing and hips swaying with fluid grace. Their skin shimmered.
