It was going to be a chill night. Just me and Chocolate, a bottle of Hennessy and some of the loudest, purplest Kush available. She and I we were smoking, drinking and watching some TV when Ron-g called. It was around 11 p.m. on a Friday night.

Still early.

He arrived about 20 minutes later. I rolled up another blunt, and thick smoke filled the room. He poured himself a cup, and I motioned for Chocolate to come sit on my lap. She is my friend with benefits.

She obliged, and we made small talk and laughed a lot. The whole time I was thinking about the Twitter-stamped Ecstasy tablet in my pocket. I knew Chocolate would be feeling extra freaky later on, especially under the influence of Henny, weed and ecstasy — a combination she didn’t mind indulging in. She’d agreed to split it with me.

But Ron-g was pushing a different plan.

“Yo, Temptations is lit tonight bro. We gotta pull up,” he said about a nearby club.

By the seductive look that Chocolate gave me, I could tell she was against the idea. She had come over to spend the night. When Ron-g wasn’t looking, she bit the pill in half and gave me the other portion. We both gulped them down with shots of Hennessy.

A blunt or two later, and with almost the entire bottle gone, I was feeling nice. Ron-g was set on dragging me to the club, and I was warming up to the idea. Chocolate could spend the night anytime, I thought to myself, and maybe I could leave the club tonight with a new chick, especially given how euphoric I was feeling.

“My nigga, you already dressed,” Ron-g said. “So come on, we out.”

Chocolate gave me a look.

“You serious?” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “You could stay here till I come back.”

“Nigga, whatever,” she said. “I’m leaving. Call me a cab.”

As the three of us headed out, the change in Chocolate’s demeanor was unmistakable. I was feeling on top of the world though and ready for more drinks and more girls.

I told Ron-g to walk up ahead and meet me in front of the building where a girl named Honey lived. Honey was another friend with benefits.

“I’mma meet you in a minute, bro,” I told Ron-g, as I tried to flag down a cab for Chocolate.

“Don’t ask me to come over no more,” she said. “You got me fucking tight.”

Finally, a cab pulled over and she got in. Chocolate was a tough girl, so it took me by surprise when I saw a tear roll down her cheek. She gave the cab driver her address and stuck her hand out for me to pay. I gave her a $20 bill for the $7 ride.

“Let me get some weed,” she demanded. I gave her a 20-bag, enough to hold her for the night, promised to call her tomorrow and shut the door.

I nearly ran a block and a half to Honey’s building. Ron-g was in front with Fifty, Honey, Rakema and G. It was 12:20 a.m., which meant we only had 10 minutes to get to the liquor store. I wanted to pregame a little more before hitting the club. We made it just in time and shared a fifth of Hennessy.

Meanwhile, I sold a couple bags for some extra spending money in the club. The block was flowing with customers, and a more disciplined businessman would have stuck around to serve them. But I was now hell-bent on going to the club and catching a new “vic.” Ron-g tried to persuade the others to come with us, but Fifty declined.

“Nah bro, the block jinking tonight,” Fifty said. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

It was around 2 a.m. when we approached Temptations. The line was halfway down the block — a good sign. Once we got inside, the ecstacy pill really kicked in. I instantly felt like a movie star. I was the best looking guy in the world. I felt certain no woman could resist me, and I had until about 6:30 a.m. to pick who I would be leaving with.

I ordered a pint of Hennessy in the club, which went for $50. I smoked some more weed, grabbed a couple chicks and danced. The pint of liquor went down like a bottle of Poland Spring. This was my third bottle of the night, but I wasn’t drunk. I was just in superstar mode. A couple chicks were giving me play, but it was way too early to skip out with one. So what did I do? Ordered another bottle, of course. I was drinking like a fish but couldn’t seem to get drunk. It had to be the ecstacy. I spotted a chick I had taken home before, gave her a drink and smoked a blunt with her. For some reason, though, I wasn’t interested in her like that tonight. I needed something new, and the ecstasy told me I could pull it off.

Before I knew it, it was going on 5:30 a.m. I had spent $150 on Hennessy but still wasn’t drunk. I was, however, feeling great, the driving beats and lyrics like a sweet siren to my ears. Still, I couldn’t help but notice that the club was slowly emptying out. Ron-g was probably somewhere chasing skirts. My options for companionship were decreasing by the minute. Getting anxious, I approached a few stragglers. One said she didn’t want to desert her friend. The other declined as well. Fuck. It was about to hit 6:30 a.m., and all the sexy chicks were gone, probably laying up with their dudes already.

Before long, I found myself in a cab with Ron-g. I wasn’t giving up though. I decided to wake up Honey. The first time I called, her phone rang six times and disconnected. I instantly called back, and after about three rings, she picked up.

“Yes, Deuce.” I could hear the crankiness in her tone.

“Wake up, get dressed, I’m bout to come get you.,” I said.

“Okay,” she said.

Honey was my final resort, but I knew she would come through. When I walked into the lobby of her building, I was surprised to find Fifty and G still up hustling, so I kicked it with them for a while until they sold the last of their drugs. Meanwhile, Honey was texting me, getting aggravated, so I finally told her to come downstairs. We walked around the corner to my house. Once inside, I motioned her toward the bed and went to use the bathroom. As I emerged, anticipating some romance at last, I was startled by a loud snoring sound.

Honey was asleep.

Me — I still had energy. I called the breakfast spot nearby.

“Let me get a turkey bacon egg and cheese on toast,” I said.

Then I reconsidered

“Make it two.”

I ate them slowly, watching Honey sleep.

Read more from The Wallkill Journal’s April 30 issue here.

Email the Keith Golden at [email protected].