Too Far Gone (Urban)

08| Club Glitz

"This isn't the way to Glitz," Chenelle fussed. Her body leaned left when Rascal turned right, and her pouted lip began to jiggle as they rolled over a few bumpy potholes. Her eyebrows arched once they drove right past the nightclub, and she folded her arms over her chest, grunting. Rascal glanced at her briefly and noted her stance.

     "Pierce was there so he has to come too," Rascal half-shrugged. He sat reclined in the driver's seat, one hand controlling the wheel while his other hand rested on the shift stick, legs spread wide open, knees touching the edge of his seating space.

He glanced at her again and patted her thigh, causing her to let out an irritated groan and snatch her leg away from his touch. It's only been approximately a month since their first encounter and she already grown a high sense of animosity towards Pierce. To her, Pierce was utterly impudent and ill-bred. She couldn't stand being within his vicinity.

     "Then take me home," Chenelle directed. Rascal scorned her request her and continued down the road towards  the Suburb Expansion district. Pierce didn't live too far from the club, but Rascal insisted on picking him up. To him, it wouldn't've been right if they didn't go to the club together as a trio. Chenelle's whiny voice invaded his ears again as she continued to complain. "I don't want to be around that asshole. That's your friend, not mine."

     Rascal rolled his eyes and shook his head, easing his foot off the accelerator, rolling to a stop outside of Pierce's one-story house. Pierce was perched on his stoop face deep in his tiny Safelink phone. Rascal popped his horn twice to gain his attention.

     "I mean, look at him!" Chenelle went on, pointing directly at him. "Who the hell wears a basketball jersey to a nightclub?"

     "He does," Rascal shrugged again. "He always does, that's what makes him stand out from everybody else. You, of all people, should know how that is."

     Chenelle rolled her eyes and stared down at her lap as Pierce entered the car. Pierce greeted Rascal first with a fist bump, then unwillingly acknowledged Chenelle, who grumbled a hello in response.

     "Take you for instance," Rascal continued, "You have the curliest hair I've ever seen on a black girl—if I'd ever seen one who hasn't had a perm; and out of all common hair colors I've seen on a black girl, it's blond."

     "So?" Chenelle sneered.

     "So you can't belittle someone for being different when you yourself are different too," Rascal chided, looking at her with a serious facial cast. He pressed his foot on the gas pedal and pulled away from the curb. Besides the sweet tunes of Tupac playing on Rascal's mixtape, the ride to the club was silent. Chenelle peered at Pierce from the side mirror, her eyes lingering over the strong features of his face before she sighed and turned up the radio.

     Rascal  drove into the parking lot located across the street from the club. It was going to be crowded inside judging by the amount of cars squeezed in the lot. Rascal was lucky enough to find one. Chenelle was the first to get out, not even waiting for Rascal to shift into park and shut the ignition off. 

     She could hear the soft hip-hop music coming from the club as she crossed the street, the sound of her black pumps clicking upon the pavement bringing the attention of a few straddlers that lingered outside the nightclub, smoking. She felt exposed to the eyes gawking at her and briefly entertained the idea of waiting for Rascal and Pierce to catch up, but overruled the feeling with a sense of independence.