Fontaine hung back, eyes lingering on Nairobi like he was debating whether to shoot his shot. He’d been my roommate freshman year at Duke, and we clicked right away. Bro was a literal genius—coding laps around the professors before the semester ended. He could’ve easily gone the corporate route, but he loved the fast money and hacking into systems he had no business touching.
The four of us helped me grow my father’s legacy into something bigger. Something that was truly ours.
“Lani, your brother says my outfit is too much,” she said, twirling around with a smirk. “Is it bad?”
Jelani was damn near drooling, his eyes sweeping over her shamelessly. Her ass cheeks peeked out from the bottoms of her shorts, and I shook my head. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Hell nah. You look good as fuck,” he replied, cheesing at her.
“Thank you, Lani. That’s why you’re my favorite Banks brother,” she beamed, rewarding him with a kiss on the cheek. I rolled my eyes.
“Whatever, man. Get in and let me holla at you.” I unlocked the doors, and Nai strolled around to the passenger side.
“What’s the play, boss man?” she asked, biting down on her lollipop.
“We had a mishap,” I said, retrieving a pre-rolled blunt from the center console. “And I think it’s tied to some bigger shit.”
“Mishap how?”
I lit the blunt and took a long pull before answering. “You heard about the ODs we’ve been dealing with?”
She nodded.
“One of my lieutenants stole twenty G’s from us. Nigga was using it to start his own shit with a plug he found in New York, but whatever he’s selling is laced with fentanyl,” I explained, passing her the blunt.
“Well, fuck,” Nai muttered, taking a hit.
“Yeah. That shit isn’t a good look for us. If people keep OD’ing, the police are gonna start sniffing around my shit, and we don’t need that kind of smoke.”
We had a good amount of cops on our payroll, including the commissioner, but even he couldn’t stop the mayor and city council from cracking down if bodies kept dropping.
“So where do I come in?” she asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“He told us who he was working with. I wanna know what else that nigga got going on and who the fuck his New York plug is.”
“Send me the details, and I’ll handle it. Give me three weeks, but I can probably do it in less time,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “You know the drill, half up front and the rest when I’m done.”
“Nai, you already know half the money was wired to your account this morning,” I replied, unlocking the door. She paused and looked back at me with mischief in her eyes.
“I’m staying at my condo in Buckhead if you want to come by when this is done,” she said, licking her lips. There was no mistaking the heat in her gaze.
Nairobi was playing with fire. We’d hooked up a few times, but us being a thing was bad for business. Not to mention, I appreciated her too much as a friend to burn bridges.
“I’m good, mama. Just let me know when the shit is done. Fontaine will send you the info,” I replied, exiting the car. Nai sucked her teeth, as if we didn’t do this song and dance every time she was home.
She said her goodbyes to Jelani and the rest of the guys before disappearing into the sea of people.
“I’m gonna make shorty my wife one day,” Fontaine declared once she was out of sight. I whipped my head to look at him and saw he was dead serious. Nigga practically had hearts in his eyes.
“You got a crush on Nai for real?” Jelani asked, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. Fontaine knew Nairobi was one of the best contract killers in the country. She never stayed in one place too long, and in the decade I’d known her, she never had a serious relationship. She was the queen of casual flings, and with the type of motion she was working with, even at thirty-six, I doubted she was settling down anytime soon.
“Not a crush. That’s my wife,” Fontaine asserted confidently.
“You do know she’s a man-eater,” I said, scanning the crowd.
“She can eat this di?—”
POP! POP! POP!
