Tha’ Gangsta’s Wife: Nova's Story by Karmel Divine

Author:Karmel Divine
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Sullivan Production, LLC
Published: 2014-07-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I parked about a block away from the club and walked down. It was live with plenty of people crowding up outside to see the brand new club they’d heard so much about.

I’d heard about The Factory opening up, but I never knew Deko was the owner until last night. The building he picked was perfect; big and spacious with a large parking lot in the back.

At clubs and parties my rules were never to park in parking lots that were a part of the club or in front of the club. Once a shootout happened and you were trying to get away, in front and in the lot were the worst places to be parked. There wouldn’t be an escape route as the parking lot would be too full to get out in time. I’d learned my lesson and I would park and walk blocks back if I had to.

Standing outside in the long line, I could hear the music from the club pumping loud and clear. Many chicks stood in line in front of me, pepping themselves up to go into the club and work their miracles to catch them a baller.

I had to be honest with myself; I was hoping to get in good with Deko since Siles was on some bullshit and Deko seemed like he knew a keeper when he saw one.

I needed money and I’d stood by Siles’ side through all of our love and hate fights, but until he got his shit together and realized I was a one in a million, I had to survive my way.

The line moved slowly up towards the security guards that stood outside of the door wearing black shirts that read “The Factory.” They were two beefcake looking light-skinned brothas with no smiles on their faces.

I leaned over towards the wall to make sure no one was looking as I reached into my clutch, pulled out my pistol, and placed it down into my dress under my left breast. I was glad the gun Siles gave me was small; it came in handy when going to places like this. Couldn’t be too careful.

Once up at the front of the line, I was hoping I wouldn’t be turned away after seeing many of partygoers turned away.

“Name,” one of the security beefcakes asked, holding a brown clipboard with a white sheet of paper on it.

I tried to look over and peep out the clipboard, but he moved it closer to his chest as he repeated, “name,” with more authority.

I smacked my lips and swayed my hips from left to right. “Nova,” I retorted with attitude and a pout of my lips.

He eyeballed me up and down then stared down at the clipboard, scanning over it as I stood tapping my right heel, waiting for him to say something.

“You can go,” he said, pointing over at the other beefcake that was ready to pat me down.

Moving closer to him I was glad there wasn’t a metal detector because I’d beep like crazy if there was.

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