delirium (sequel to apathy)

17

     17 

"Why if it isn't Romelo..never thought I'd see your ass here." 

Maurice stopped a few inches short of me, staring me down before shifting his vision to Grandpa, who stood behind me. Up close, I had to admit that Maurice was one ugly ass nigga. His face looked like he had gotten curb stopped by a gorilla..matter fact, he looked like a gorilla. I felt really bad for the girl, or girls that had to look at his face every damn day. I'd rather drink poison than to have him all up in my face. 

I heard Grandpa snicker, "I'd never be caught dead in one of these AIDS infested clubs you call a business." 

Maurice rolled his eyes, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult my place of business." He turned his attention to me, "And who is this little nigga right here?" I cocked an eyebrow at him, looking at him like he had lost his damn mind. I looked over my shoulder at Grandpa, and he gave me a look, urging me to answer him.

"King Carter," I told Maurice. 

He looked me up and down, and I did the same, trying to look past his face. But damn, his face was hard to miss. I'd certainly be able to pick him out a crowd, with no effort what so ever. We stared each other down for a while, and it was pretty obvious that he was trying to see if I would crack. That wouldn't be happening any time soon, I mean, just look at what I grew up around. A bunch of maniacs, that's what. 

"What are you here for, King?" He asked me, like he was going to catch me in a lie. I hadn't lied to him at all, but it was about to start. 

"I wanted to talk to you about your business," I smiled. 

He started to shake his head, "Hell nah. You look like you just popped fresh out of your momma's pussy. Them tattoos don't fool me."

"I wasn't talking about that, Maurice. I don't want any part in this disgusting business you run here. I want to talk drugs."

He looked surprised at what I had said, and I couldn't help but smirk at him. I was highly uninterested in him, he was only a tool to get closer to Marten. A smile spread across Maurice's face, and he pulled me towards him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I rolled my eyes, Maurice starting to take me to the back. I briefly looked over my shoulder, feeling much better that Grandpa was still following us. 

Who knows what the fuck could happen to me back here?

"He can't go in," I heard someone say. 

I stopped in my tracks, turning around. Grandpa was being blocked at the entrance by one of Maurice's..security guards, I assumed. They were staring each other down, but Grandpa was slightly towering over him. He was looking at him like he was insane, his attention then switching to Maurice and I. I looked at Maurice, and he simply sighed. 

"Maurice, you better get this nigga, he does not know who the fuck I am." 

Maurice snapped his fingers, and the security guard let Grandpa by. 

We continued down the hall, females walking past us in skimpy little outfits, making me sick to my stomach. Some of the guys eyed me, like I was another opportunity to make some cash. I didn't understand how people could do that, taking off their clothes for some quick, easy cash. In the end, don't you feel like shit? I would, hell, knowing that I was walking around with money a horny old ass man gave me. Diana told me about what she had to do, and knowing that, I found strip clubs fucking disgusting. 

We came to a door at the end of the hall, Maurice opening it up with a key. Inside was an elaborate office, a long, oak wood table in the middle of the room, five chairs on each side. In the corner there was a desk, a picture of Maurice and a woman in a picture frame. The woman looked oddly familiar, like I seen her before, or knew her. She kind of looked like Mom-