Black Ice

xvii

seventeen | crystal

I was a ball of adrenaline, firing off the stage and down the hall of the arena. Everything went perfect during our set, and the crowd was chanting our name by the time we'd left.

Tonight would only be a continuation of that energy. Xena was sure of it.

We poured up shots between getting dressed for the club, pacing back and forth from luggage to the bathroom and the room mirror. Tiffany sat on my bed, her head volleying with our movements as she complained.

"I'm sayin' though, why can't I go?" Tiffany pouted with crossed arms.

"Because you underage," Xena answered.

"So is Issac, but y'all not buggin' him."

"That's because Issac knows how crazy these niggas can get. I don't want you even being exposed to whatever they gone be on. And it's New Year's Eve? Tuh, hell nah."

"If they're that bad, why are you goin?"

"Politics, Tiff. You wouldn't get it."

"But Issac would?"

"Issac isn't under my jurisdiction, Tiff. If I had it my way, he'd be stayin here too, but he's not my baby sister. You are."

She kissed her teeth.

"Besides, we still got time to kick it and have fun. It's just one night, and tonight, you're staying here."

"I just don't get it. I be goin' to clubs back home," Tiff said.

"Oh really?" My eyebrows shot up.

"Cris, it's not even like that. We don't be gettin' drunk or wildin'—"

"We? Who is we?"

"Me and Vonny."

"I told you about hangin' wit'—"

"She be rhymin' at The Lounge, in Queens. It's cool, Cris. Really, it's not even—"

"Keep yo head in them books, not in them clubs, a'ight? You got the rest of your life to be up in there, but right now? Tonight? Yo' ass is in this hotel room. Good night."

And that was final. With those words, Xena and I headed out.

The club was jumpin' with great music and active dancers. VIP wasn't as discreet as I've experienced in other places, and the rowdiness of Ceeze's crew— whose booth neighbored mine— didn't help. But all was well as my circle celebrated the midpoint of this tour and the end of a year.

My booth was filled with loved ones, old and new. Xena was next to me, pouring our bottle of champagne into glasses. Issac was passing her said glasses while Keith and his DJ, Monty, were chatting with some of Ceeze's entourage.

As they hooped and hollered and floundered about in a manner that infiltrated our peaceful section, Keith and Monty were our internal security keeping the riff-raff on their respective side while the venue's security guarded the booths.