“Business it is,” he replied. “If that’s what you prefer.”
Her heart sank. How he could go from full-court pressure, buying cars, and professing his intentions in a room full of people to just business was beyond her. It matched every single rumor she had ever heard about him, though. He lost interest quickly. He swapped models and ‘it girls’ in and out on his arm monthly. Her frustration with him was immeasurable because when he was in the mood to act right, he pulled her in effortlessly. He gave her glimpses of who he was behind the cameras and behind the fame, but the man the public received was almost intolerable. He was arrogant, dismissive, and inconsiderate.
“Is that whatyouprefer?” he asked.
The audacity of him to give her the option as if she was choosing any of this shit. His actions were dictating the course of their involvement with one another. She was just reactingto his bullshit. The hardest part was knowing that behind the visage was a man that made her feel so damn good.
“You aren’t consistent with me, Day,” Stassi said. “I prefer that. I prefer a man who isso consistent with the way he moves that I can predict his next step. I want to be able to finish your sentences. I want to be able to look at the clock and know exactly where you are because your routine is the same. Our every interaction changes. One minute you’re feeling me, and you want to be with me, the next minute, some weird-ass industry bitch is your focus.”
“My focus is on you, Stassi. Even when you think it ain’t,” he replied. “Even when you deny me access. A nigga moving every single piece around the board just to get you to enter the room so I can see you.”
She didn’t know if he was sincere, or if he was doing what he did best, having his way with words. It was what he was famous for, after all. Writing music. Using lyrics to tell stories through his art. It sounded good, but was it real?
“You’re doing all that,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Exerting all that energy, trying to control how I move, when all you got to do is control how you move. I’d come willingly if you acted right, but you don’t do right by women, Day, and I ain’t trying to have my heart broken. I’d just rather be friends, honestly.”
“You want me to be your friend?” He asked the question like it repulsed him. “The shit I think about when I see you…” He paused and scoffed. “I don’t think about my friends like that.” He sighed in exasperation. “This shit wild, man, but whatever you want, Anastassia. The world is yours. Sign the contract and return it to my office tomorrow. Don’t miss this paper because you in your feels. We got work to do.”
“Prove something to me, Day. If I’m worth anything at all, prove it.”
He was silent, and she wondered what was running through his mind.
“I hear you,” was all he returned with before the line went dead. Stassi blew out a sharp breath. She wanted to keep things light with Day because the depths that he could take her would drown her. He was a walking, talking, red flag, and although he checked so many boxes, his lifestyle would ruin her eventually.
Chapter 18
Day was used to controlling the room. He only shared power with one individual, and that was Demi. Two kings. One kingdom. They reigned as brothers. They had it all. They had come up dreaming of money and bitches. They had achieved every single goal they had set for themselves. They had wanted the streets, so they took them. They had wanted to go legit, so they did. They hadn’t heard ‘no’ very often, but suddenly, Day was being forced to reconcile with rejection. All the money in the world couldn’t buy him favor with Stassi. He knew because he had tried. Day had led with money with Stassi, and now he regretted it because he hadn’t taken the time to get to know her true weakness. It wasn’t money. She was headstrong, and no other woman had ever given him this hard of a time. He was interested. He was more than interested. Day had a hard time lowering the guard he gave the public, but Stassi had cracked through it. She had seen a different side to him, but she wanted him to be that way all the time and he couldn’t. He only reserved that freedom for those he trusted. For her, it felt like he was gaming her. To him, it felt like he was extending trust. He knew he was going to have to cut Kiara Da’vi off if he wanted to prove to Stassi that he was serious.
He needed Da’vi to understand that this was just business. He couldn’t give her the clout she was chasing, not anymore. Demi had warned Day over the years of playing the celebrity game with different women, using his presence as currency. “You astreet nigga, let’s keep it street. Be less accessible for these niggas. Bitches too,” Demi had said. He had warned him again and again, but Day had fallen victim to the PR game. Running up sales, building careers, fucking women, courting them, casually leaving them in the wind. He always got what he wanted, and they got what they needed. It was always a fair exchange—until now. Stassi didn’t want fame. She wanted to earn her respect, and she wasn’t willing to accept his visage. The fact that she was entertaining other niggas gave him a dose of his own medicine. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and he didn’t like the shit one bit.
He hadn’t had to work for a woman in quite some time. “Prove it.” Her words rang in his mind. He knew an ultimatum when he heard one. He was an alpha male, and his ego was telling him to do the opposite. He was insulted that she thought she had the pull to challenge him in the first place. But the part of him that sought her company, the part that desired the unique way she went left when he said right, knew what had to be done. Some women could just sway a man, and she was one of those types for Day.
Day’s phone rang, and Demi’s photo illuminated the screen just as Kiara Da’vi entered the room. He held up a finger to stall her as he answered the phone simultaneously.
“What up, boy?” Day greeted. He frowned when he heard the noise in the background. Demi was outside. He was never outside.
“Shit, bro. Just out here having a drink. Come fuck with me,” Demi said. His somber tone couldn’t be missed; neither could the slur. Demi was a general. He had kept his head on a swivel for as long as they had known one another. Being out his body in public wasn’t a thing. In fact, being out of body at all wasn’t a thing. He knew this one-off was a direct result of DJ.
“I just might do that. Where you at?” Day asked. “Sound like you done had one too many.”
“I’m over here on the Northside. You know the old bar off Pierson,” Demi stated.
“Yeah, I know the spot. Signature. I know niggas be lurking ‘round them parts too. You got security with you, or you dolo?” Day asked.
“I buried my son, my nigga. Didn’t need no witnesses tonight, you know?” Demi’s voice cracked, but he quickly recovered. Day knew that Demi wanted solitude so that he could cry in peace, and still, Day doubted if Demi had allowed himself to. The breakdown was inevitable. Day knew that when Demi finally lost his shit and allowed himself to process this, it would be ugly for everyone within proximity. Day needed Demi inside where it was safe for everybody.
“You strapped?” Day asked.
“You know it,” Demi answered.
“Sit tight. I’ll be headed that way. Don’t drive, and nigga, don’t look at nobody. Ain’t no nigga eyeballing you, ain’t nobody stepping on your Air Force 1s. Order a water, nigga. Give me 30, and I’ma pull up on you. We’ll pour one out for nephew.”
“Nigga, what am I 20? I ain’t fighting in no bars these days. I’m posted. I’ll be here.”
CLICK.
Day turned his focus to the lovely girl in front of him.
“Da’vi,” he greeted, sitting back in his chair, and swiveling it left, then right, as he steepled his pointer fingers and positioned them over his nose. Any last-minute thoughts of keeping her around were fleeting. He was about to fumble a big bag for Stassi, but it was time. Her entitlement alone meant the cut-off was overdue. She thought that she was owed more than she was, simply because of her brother’s initial dealings with Dynasty records. Duke had died years ago, however, and theway Demi and Day had taken a dream and turned it into reality, was far removed from those beginning struggle days. They had taken care of Duke’s mama, and Kiara Da’vi had been given an opportunity. Any debt that was owed had been paid. They couldn’t change what had happened to Duke in jail, and she could no longer use it to guilt trip or force her prioritization at the company.
