“No,” he shook his head as he looked at his ribs.
“I wasn’t asking you.” She pushed off the island and then turned to face us. “Pick a color.”
“Black,” Clarke answered. “I want to take the black one.”
“Bet,” Berkeley agreed.
Tulane looked over his shoulder at us and smirked. “Don’t push your luck with me, Berkeley. You four are staying here. If you want something that’s not here, let me know, and I will go get it.”
“I want a tall, dark skin nigga, mean, a little rough around the edges, but melts every time I open my mouth, muscles, waves so deep I get sick. Country but hood, and a big dick,” Berkley said, and Tulane’s face twisted. “What’s that look for?”
“What the fuck do I look like? A dating service?”
“No, you kind of look like a deadbeat who’s been overcompensating for the past few years with his children, who didn’t know they were his children and now are stuck with us in his house, and he doesn’t know what to do,” Clarke said, looking at him.
Chapter thirty-one
Amethyst
Iwalked into Yale’s house, and immediately, a nigga got in his feelings. I missed the fuck out of her. The past few weeks had been hell, but I knew I was doing what the fuck I needed to do, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself, so I wasn’t up all fucking night tossing and turning. The house was cold as fuck and quiet, which annoyed me. I was used to hearing Yale’s music blasting or her laughter when we were hanging out. Now the only thing that could be heard was my steps as I moved through the living room.
Nothing in this bitch screamed Yale or her style. It was all Grant and his stuffy ass shit, which is probably why I had her decorate my house repeatedly. Everything in my house screamed Yale, and I was proud of it.
I searched the living room, knowing that I was going to come up empty, and then made my way to their bedroom. The smell of Yale’s perfume filled my lungs as soon as I pushed the dooropen. It was so strong that I had to stop and look around to make sure that she wasn’t here. Yale was sneaky as fuck, and I know that she was working Tulane’s fucking nerves.
He wasn’t used to having to deal with his daughters on the level that he was, and them being there was driving that nigga crazy. Every fucking day, he was calling me with some crazy ass shit her and her sisters were doing. I wanted to feel sorry for that nigga, but I didn’t. He was going to get payback for not being around when they were younger. His ass thought that dealing with four grown ass daughters would be easy. The joke was definitely on him.
“This nigga is not that fucking smart,” I said as I pulled open his dresser drawer. There had to be something linking him to whoever the fuck this mystery boss was. I tossed his shit like I was a fucking cop and came up empty-handed. Frustrated, I slammed his dresser drawer closed and made my way to his closet. Clothes hung neatly on his side, shoes lined on the floor. Everything was perfect. I kissed my teeth as I looked around. The sight of three boxes sitting on his top shelf pulled me from my thoughts, and I grabbed them. The first box was filled with old pictures, starting with his childhood and going through there. The second box had files from his job, nothing I gave a fuck about. I trusted the weather app to tell me what the fuck was going on. Grant’s ass didn’t know shit in my eyes. The last box made me pause.
“Aint no fucking way,” I chuckled. The paperwork I was looking at had a name I hadn’t seen in years. I read it over to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, then dropped my head. Citrine was going to lose his fucking mind. I stuffed everything back inside the boxes and took them with me. I had another fucking stop to make, and it wasn’t going to be a good meeting.
The drive to Citrine’s hotel was quick because traffic was light. I parked next to him in my assigned spot, grabbed the boxes,and made my way inside. His employees were used to seeing me, so they didn’t think twice when I moved through the back and headed to his office.
“Hey,” I called out to his secretary as I approached her desk. “Is he available?”
“Yeah, he just got in, but looks frustrated; he had a meeting with Lavender,” she replied with a small smile.
“Appreciate it.” I knocked twice but didn’t wait for him to respond before I pushed open the door. “I need you to look at something for me and tell me I’m not making shit up to fit a narrative.” I closed the space between his desk and the door and dropped the boxes on it.
“What am I looking for, Am?” Citrine looked at the boxes, then up at me with a confused expression.
I knocked on the boxes twice, then pushed them to him. “Look and tell me what you see,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not telling you to look for something because I want you to tell me what you see.”
“I’m not a fucking detective, Am, tell me what I’m looking for or call Gift and have him look at this shit,” he suggested. When I didn’t move, Citrine sighed, then picked up his phone and dialed a number.
“Yeah?”
“How far are you from the hotel?” Citrine said as he watched me. His dark eyes narrowed when I sat in the empty seat in front of his desk. “Am is here with some fucking boxes and wants me to play your role. I don’t have it in me for this shit today.”
“Give me ten.”
“Bet,” Citrine said, then hung up. He pointed to the boxes and shook his head. “Gift does shit like this, not me.”
“You’re going to want to look at it before he does,” I replied, shaking my head. “That nigga isn’t going to see what I saw and understand it.”
Citrine leaned forward and tapped the side of his head. “I don’t have it in me to figure shit out today, Amethyst. My mental is fucked up.”
“What happened with Lavender?” I questioned him, and he sat back.
