However, I ain’t want revenge on him for real. Bentayga deserved that shit leaving my mama high and dry for a bitch that ended up pushing daisies a few months later anyway. He was a sucka that ain’t know how to stand on business. How the hell you go from catching bodies to loving the opps? That shit ain’t make no senses to me.
Nevertheless, the ten million I was skimming off they ass had a nigga in a hell of a mood. The Atkins were so fuckin’ conceded that they never realized there was a snake in the camp. All that talk ‘bout being this and that when I was single handedly taking what I wanted. Royce couldn’t hold onto his product, Black really can’t hold onto his crew cause they jump anytime I throw a plan their way, and Bentley… lil’ bro couldn’t hold his deadass mama down in no shape or form. Sage Springs was my playground, not theirs.
Pulling into the parking lot of Taylor & Taylor Law Firm, I noticed how empty it was. At the max, there were four cars and a van. I was used to Yonnis’s establishment being flooded with business. I wondered what had it so scarce.
I snagged a spot near the door and scanned the lot once more. I’d been here numerous times, once to see him and others just to keep tabs. This was quite unusual, and it had me nervous as hell. I reached for my cell and dialed his number. I saw his whip clear as day, but I ain’t want to assume he was inside either. While his line rang, I opened the case that concealed my white girl. I quickly sorted out a line and inhaled it through my left nostril.
It was just my luck he answered a few seconds after with, “This is Yonnis Taylor.”
“Aye, I got all the documents you wanted. When can I claim my mama inheritance?” I asked getting straight to the point.
“Is this Bentley Atkins?” he inquired ignoring what I said.
“Nigga who else it’s gon’ be? You in this bitch or nah? It’s dead as hell at yo’ shit too. Why?”
“Get a business of your own, and you’ll know mandatory rest days are needed. I’ll meet you at the front door to let you in. Give me a minute.”
With that, the call disconnected, and I peeled the phone from my ear with disgust. Yonnis wasn’t his usual self with all the shit talking. It seemed as if he was playing nice, and I ain’t like that. My detective senses were telling me to raincheck this meeting. However, this was probably the only time I had to get in and get the fuck out.
That so called family dinner was pure bullshit. Them niggas broke me down like a fuckin’ Lego set, especially Royce. That nigga was the head of his table for a fuckin’ reason. It didn’t help that Senior was following up with cuts that hit the white meat. Iknew Bentayga dogged my mama, but he just had to rub that shit in. The only person that gave me grace at that table was Heidi.
She was such a beautiful woman. I was genuinely confused on how she tolerated the Atkins. She reeled in every conversation to make sure shit ain’t go left, and I commended her for that. Without her being there, I was sure blows would’ve been thrown.
Stepping out the whip, I hit the key fob locking the door behind me. When I got to the main door, Yonnis was approaching with his hands pocketed. He wore a sly grin causing my ass to itch. I was over this nigga. Shit, he’d better hoped I didn’t put his ass down once them papers were signed and handed over.
He unlocked the right door and allowed me access. I wasn’t gon’ hold you. This nigga looked and smelled like money every damn time I saw him. From the custom suits to the custom shoes, I just knew his annual salary was more than what I had in my bank account.
“Mandatory rest day, huh?” I asked skeptical of his excuse.
“My people work harder than any other law firm in the city. They get two mandatory rest days with pay. Like I said, get a business first. The more you respect your employees, the more respect and loyalty they’ll have for you. If you start a business, remember that,” he advised.
“So, you giving a nigga advice now? Since when the hell did you start giving a fuck ‘bout what I had going on?” I inquired.
“Don’t get it twisted nigga; I don’t give a fuck. However, this a whole lot of money you stepping into. Make that shit count.”
“I make everything I touch count. Let’s just get this shit over with so I can get the hell back to Florida.”
“Good luck,” he mumbled. I caught it and I had every feeling to turn the hell around. However, I was here and so was that ten million dollars.
Chuckling, I nodded and checked every room I passed for anything suspicious. This was a set up, I could feel it. That inheritance check was in reach though, and I fa damn sho wasn’t passing that shit up. The Atkins probably went through twice as much on a yearly basis while this was enough to keep me and mine good for a lifetime. I was risking my life. I’d already picked up on that.
“We gon’ do this in the conference room with Yolani,” he said opening the door to the same room we met in before.
Yolani Taylor sat on the other side of the table looking as fine as ever. It ain’t make no sense how beautiful the women in this whack ass city was. It ain’t deserve them.
“Mr. Bentley Atkins, it’s good to see you again,” she said standing and extending her hand in my direction.
Stepping into the room completely, I walked over and clasped my hand with hers. It was just as soft as it was on day one. The door shut behind me and that lock was loud and clear causing me to turn around instantly. My heart damn near jumped out my chest when I laid eyes on thee one nigga I singlehandedly put away for at least ten years.
I quickly straightened up to save face. A nigga was terrified, but he’d never know it. I preferred to throw hands, but this particular nigga liked to let his bullets handle business for him. Everything in me said to turn my black ass around, but I just had to let my greed for this money lead the way.
“Look at you stepping in for a nigga on his behalf. What? Since I was locked up, you trying to fill my shoes or something?” I smirked and Bentley continued taking a step closer with every word he spoke. “These is custom muthafucka. You’ll never be able to fill them. That ten mill must’ve made you lose yo’ goddamn mind.”
“I guess money talks. How the fuck you get out of prison Bentley? I played that shit by the books,” I boasted.
“Nigga, you a fuck up, and you forget one major thing. A nigga like me always got eyes on himself. What it take after I handed that shit over Yonnis? Two weeks?” he asked looking to Yonnis.
“Twelve days,” Yonnis answered with a smirk.
