Chapter 1
Essen
Aproud smile summoned my cheekbones as I stood in a corner of the room, admiring my work. The function was coming to an end, but with all the moving I had done for hours, there wasn’t much time to marvel at my creation. When local rapper Flaco Stone requested I turn a rec center into a Hawaiian paradise, I started to decline. I didn’t like to accept clients around the holidays. Plus, he only gave me two weeks to pull it off. Nevertheless, I sat with myself, called a few service providers on my contact list, and made it happen.
Since the party would be over within the hour, I approached Flaco and mentioned his pending invoice. The durag-wearing rapper pulled on the crotch of his pants instead of pulling out a bankroll or his phone.
“I appreciate the work you did, ma, but doesn’t my contract say something about a discount if the client is unsatisfied?”
Surprise caused my lips to part. There was a difference between being a pushover and a professional, and there had never been any bitch in my blood.
“Hold on. This place is beautiful. You and your guests have been raving over the decorations and personal touches since the party started.”
Flaco inhaled a drag from his blunt and then doused me in a cloud of marijuana smoke. “Don’t get pissy with me. I just repeated what you put on paper.”
“Had you kept reading, you would’ve realized those complaints had to be addressed during the final walkthrough. They were not. Run me my money.”
“Hmph. You’re pretty as hell when you’re mad.” Flaco pushed a flyaway out of my face. “Maybe I can work off the rest of the payment in a different way.”
“No thank you. You’re not my kind of eater.” I smiled sweetly. “I’ve been around you for a few hours, and you’ve already made mistakes. Two of them were touching me and stealing from me. This isn’t over, my love.”
“Pretty and funny,” he said while wearing a one-sided smirk. “Is that supposed to scare me? Get the fuck out of here.”
Flaco walked off, leading me to send a scorched gaze into the back of his head. Most of my life, I had been treated like a princess, and there were times I despised it. Still, there were moments I rejoiced at the idea that, with one phone call, I could rally men who would go to war for me. If this were a different scenario, I would have called my brothers to put Flaco on his back, but considering they told me not to take the job in the first place, Church and Shiloh weren’t an option. I made the mistake of telling them about the opportunity with the C-List rapper, and they both told me to pass on the gig. I could have called my favorite cousin Durk, and my best friend, Ishmael, but calling them would be as dangerous as calling my brothers.
After going back and forth on who to call for backup, I pulled out my phone and searched my contacts. My tongue ran over my teeth when my thumb landed on a solid pick. The first time I called, Loso didn’t answer, but the second go around, his deep, raspy voice poured through the line.
“What’s good, Princess?”
“Dang. I’m surprised you answered. I thought you were going to send me to voicemail again.”
“My bad. I was enjoying an early Christmas gift.”
I squared my shoulders. “Ooh. What did you get?”
“A deep throat,” he didn’t hesitate to say. “I thought you called me by accident. I wasn’t slipping out of something wet for a mistake.”
“Eww. You’re disgusting.”
“I’m grown. What do you need? Everything good with the family?”
“Kind of,” I answered quickly. “Hmm. Can you meet me in Slyde City? There’s an idiot refusing to handle his final payment and?—”
“What the fuck!” he interjected. “Don’t say nothing else. Send me the address. How many niggas over there?”
“It’s a family event, so there’s quite a few.”
“Bet.” He got quiet then freed a low laugh. “I’m assuming you don’t want me to bring your brothers along?”
“Is it that obvious?” I asked sarcastically. “I don’t need them in my business. Besides, I think he knows you. Before I took the job, I looked him up on social media. I saw your shop was tagged in a photo on his page.”
“What’s his name?”
“Flaco Stone,” I blurted out, bitterness buttering my voice.
“I got you. I’ll see you soon.”
For the next forty minutes, I played it cool as I waited for Loso. I sang holiday tunes with the family, made sure the Don Julio fountain flowed non-stop, and anyone who greeted me was met with a smile. I refused to taint my reputation with a bad attitude on the account of a slimy, hitless rapper. By the time guests were invited to raid the dessert bar, my phone started vibrating against my fingers.
