One night, we were out in New York, seeing a Broadway musical, and the night was going beautifully. That was until he had a little too much champagne. He became way too touchy-feely, and that shit turned me completely off. I played it off and allowed the shit to go on for a little while. We even made it to dinner, and it went okay, but afterward, he had the car service drop us off at my hotel. I laughed to myself the whole way there because this old fool really thought I would drop my drawers, and it was not happening.
We finally made it to the room, and I went straight into the bathroom, then locked the door. I called out to him to ask if he could go grab us a bottle of champagne that I knew the hotel didn’t carry. Of course, he left the room because he was the type of man who would do whatever I asked, whether pussy was on the table or not. Once I knew he was out of the room, I put the double lock on the door and sent him a text. I told him to send my payment and never contact me again—no explanation or anything. Once he sobered up, I was sure he realized why I texted him that.
After that incident, I’d been good on men until further notice or until someone could prove they were not a pervert or a piece of shit. Frankly, I was just tired of the same old, same old. The yearning I felt, more often than not, was my body and mind letting me know I missed actually being attracted to someone, and vice versa, not just for the sake of being arm candy or a toy. After being objectified for longer than I would’ve liked to admit, I just wanted to be for a bit.
We were nearing the halfway point of the flight, which was my cue to let Chanel know to start with the in-flight offerings for business class, while I took care of our first-class passengers.
“You ready?” I ushered Chanel forward as if this were her first flight. In my eyes, she was very much still a newbie.
“Yes, muva.” She dragged her words out, causing me to chuckle.
“I’m just making sure you’re good, pooh. I still remember my first year doing this shit.” Taking requests from multiple passengers was not for the weak, especially when we had a limited amount of time to do so.
“I know. I’ve braced myself for the influx of needs from these folks that have to be met.”
“Good. You’re getting it. You’re better than me because I knew going in, this was a service-based role, and on my baddays, my attitude was so noticeable. But the more flights you take and the more you work, you learn how to fake the funk when needed.”
“And that’s what I need to work on because when one of those old wrinkly farts say something out of the way, I’m ready to walk off, and I can’t, because we’re hundreds of thousands of feet up in the damn air.”
I laughed. “Exactly. Just keep what I been telling you in mind, and you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, sis.” She winked, pulled the beverage and snack cart out, and moved along slowly to the business class seating. I had the plane’s tablet in hand so I could get ready to take orders.
“Aye,let me holla at Louie real quick,” I spoke directly into my phone’s speaker while the flight attendants gave the safety instructions. I never listened to that shit, no matter how many times I had flown. Either I had my ear buds in my ear, listening to a podcast, or I was handling business, taking calls and shit.
“Tell his bitch ass to have Mr. Smith’s package waiting for him as soon as we pull up. We land in roughly an hour and a half, and neither of us wants any hiccups.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see if I can make it happen.”
“Ain’t no seeing. Either you will, or that’s your ass.” I ended the call and didn’t think twice about the young nigga’s feelings. As long as they had what we were coming for, I didn’t care.
I was used to making calls like that on a daily. It came with the territory. It was not necessarily a perk, but it was what it was. I was just trying to make sure my client made it safely to his destination, and the things he requested would be ready and waiting for him. Mr. Smith, who was the first person to book services with me, was now a good friend of mine. He had been using my services for years. The street life was not the life for me, but I took pride in protecting those who were in it outright, and those who had businesses that fronted what they did in the streets.
I provided protection on a more professional level. I only connected with those who didn’t play small when it came to the business of the streets. My connections to make protection a breeze for someone were not to be trifled with, and I didn’t just let anyone become a client of mine. Being the owner and operator of D. Coventry Defense was hard work, and I prided myself on the quality service my clients received.
All business wasn’t good business. I was a firm believer in that, and I was trying to teach my son the same. I needed him to be better than me, by all means. So far, so good. Junior was seventeen, going on eighteen years old, and I could honestly say he had his head on straight. He was not only book smart, but he had street sense, something most young niggas those days did not have. That was because I took him out into the streets at thirteen and gave him a choice. I told him if he wanted to live the fast life, he could, but it would cost him, and he would more than likely regret the shit on the backend.
I chuckled to myself, thinking about that day. Steph was mad as hell with me for taking him out there, but I knew what I was doing wasn’t wrong. He needed to see some shit firsthand. I also told him he could be great and have long money without being in the streets. He could do that by working for himself, building a business that he could fall back on, even if college didn’t pan out.His mom encouraged college. I encouraged him to work smart and use the access he had to get where he needed to be. If he wanted to play the long game in life shit, he had to be intelligent on multiple levels, not just one.
I closed my eyes for a bit once we reached cruising altitude. I needed a little nap before I got into full work mode with my client once we landed. I couldn’t wait to be done for the day and have some time for myself. The plan was to grab a good meal and drink after I was done with Mr. Smith, then head to my home for the evening and rest up for the next day. I planned to spend the weekend with my son.
After my short nap, I was ready for a drink to calm my nerves. It was early morning, but having to get on the young nigga’s ass about having Mr. Smith’s money was not in my plans, especially when I was in the middle of traveling.
As I scrolled through my phone, I saw the flight attendant for my section out of my peripheral. She made her way through the small section of business class. Not paying much attention, I continued to scroll and check over my calendar once more to make sure I wouldn’t miss anything important coming up. Since this was such a short flight, I opted for business class, while my client flew first class. There wasn’t much of a difference to me. Flying was ten times better than what I had been used to. My first flight wasn’t until I was thirty, when I first got into the business. Six years later, flying was damn near like driving at this point.
My phone vibrated, and I saw it was a text from Steph, Junior’s mother.
I was grateful for our present relationship. Shit wasn’t always easy between us. I loved her ass badly, but we were both young as hell when we got together. We fell too hard, too fast, and had Junior. I tried to be the man she needed, but I was in the streets, and the fast money I made gave me access to more women thanI could count. I’d had some experiences, to say the least, and I wasn’t proud of how many women I’d sexed back in the day, but I was glad that shit was out of my system.
When Junior was younger, and when Steph and I were on rocky territory, I didn’t give a damn how she felt. I was young and dumb and didn’t value her the way I should have. My pops was not around growing up, so I lacked a lot when it came to women. After we split, I vowed to become a better man so that Junior would be better than I was.
Over the years, she and I grew close again. We learned we were only as good as the love we poured into ourselves and our son. Once that bottom line was in place, Steph and I had smooth sailing. Sometimes temptation could have gotten the best of us, but we refrained, and eventually, she moved on and got married. I put my best into building my business, and shit had been paying off ever since. I couldn’t have been more blessed. When the time was right, I would have someone to share life with, but until then, I would continue to hold shit down to make sure the business stayed on the up and up.
“Good morning. May I offer you a beverage? We have champagne, orange juice, and water available,” the flight attendant asked with a smile and a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. Her aura drew me in immediately, breaking me away from my phone’s screen in the best way.
“Good morning. I’ll take a glass of champagne and a bottle of orange juice,” I replied, studying her face.
Her lips were full as fuck, like pillows. She had long, dark hair that framed her face perfectly. She was sexy as hell and didn’t look like the average flight attendant.
