“Especially when it comes to her.” Boogie shrugged.
“Why it gotta be the ops’ daughter, man? I never understood that shit.”
“I never understood it either, Bro. I just need to go see about her. Make sure she straight. You know how I feel abouther. It don’t matter how long it’s been. And she workin’ in a place like this, livin’ out of a hotel . . . it don’t make sense to me. Her daddy got enough money to end world hunger.”
Denzel accepted the blunt back from Boogie and nodded slowly. His dark skin glistened under the streetlamp, and his crisp waves looked like they were glittering from the oil he put in his hair earlier. His older brother had taken on the serious role.He always dressed like he was on the way to a business meeting and didn’t often crack jokes, but he had the biggest heart.
Boogie, on the other hand, was the menace. He played all day and talked a lot of shit. He marched to the beat of his own drum, which was something his brother and father struggled with because they were focused on keeping their billion-dollar operation in line.
“Just be careful. I’ma have Tank and Renzo follow you to make sure you good.”
“It ain’t that serious,” Boogie said dismissively.
“When it comes to your safety, Bro, it is that serious. You know how we do. They’re gonna follow you. You won’t even know they’re there. Just holla at them if you need backup. And if you decide you gonna be keepin’ time with shorty, then you need to tell Pops. I ain’t ’bout to be holdin’ this secret in for you.”
Boogie nodded his head begrudgingly. He knew his father would want to know about Sweetie coming back around, and as far as Boogie was concerned, she would be. He didn’t care if she had a nigga. He would have to raise up and get lost.
That conversation with his father wasn’t particularly one he wanted to have though. He was an understanding and kind man, but when it came to the Bishop family, he didn’t trust it one bit.
“Got you.”
They stood there and finished off the blunt in silence before Denzel said, “You know this is bad timing, right? Pops is about to step down and hand us the world on a damn platter, and here you go messin’ wit’ that Bishop girl again. He might not step down now.”
Boogie had also thought about that, but again, he didn’t really care. There wasn’t much that would get in the way of his bag, but Sweetie Bishop? She could either be his everything wrapped up in a bow, or she could be his downfall. He was willing to take that risk.
Instead of responding to his brother’s last comment, he gave him dap and a brotherly hug. “I’ll get up wit’ you tomorrow.”
“Make sure you do that.” Denzel saluted his brother and walked back into the club.
Boogie knew that Tank and Renzo, two of their bodyguards, would be out soon. He wasn’t about to wait for them. The niggas had his location and would catch up.
He hopped into his car and made the short drive toward the Ritz. His thoughts drowned out the music as he thought about the dance Sweetie gave him. Baby had grown all the way up, and he loved to see it. What he didn’t love was the thought of her giving another nigga the kind of dance she gave him.
That thought made him frown as he pulled up to the valet. He got out quickly and tossed his keys to the kid at the outside desk.
“Make sure my shit straight,” he said as he handed the boy, who looked to be barely eighteen, a hundred-dollar bill.
His eyes lit up. “Got you, G.”
Boogie walked into the hotel and looked down at his phone. A smile spread across his face when he realized Sweetie texted him that the room was secured, and she left his name at the front desk. A very small part of him wondered if life had turned her into someone else. He had wondered if she would take his money and dip, but Sweetie still seemed to live up to her name. Not a rotten bone in her body. As sweet as pie, just how he remembered her.
Once he got his key, he made his way up to the penthouse. Nerves bounced around his body, but he was cool as a cucumber on the outside. When the elevator doors opened into the suite, he grinned.
Sweetie sat comfortably on the couch with her feet tucked under her and a glass of wine in her hand. She wore a silky cream-colored robe, and he peeped some black lace underneath it. His dick hardened, but he coached it down. He wasn’t therefor that . . . yet, anyway. He genuinely wanted to talk to his first love and pick her brain.
When her cat-like brown eyes met his, they had a brief stare down. Years of unsaid things passed between them. Finally, Boogie kicked off his shoes and walked toward her.
“Sweetie Bishop,” he muttered as he sat beside her. He didn’t hesitate to pull her into him. He didn’t know why he felt like he could do that with a woman he hadn’t seen in twenty years, but he did. He always had been possessive over her, even as a boy.
“Darren DeLuca,” she murmured.
He smirked as she laid her head on his chest. Sweetie and his mama were the only two people alive who could get away with using his government. In his early twenties, he laid a nigga down for using his real name. It caused a lot of chaos that his father and brother had to dig him up out of, but Boogie didn’t regret it. He was a bit touched in the head like that. Respect was at the top of the list for him. Anybody could get it if they showed even an ounce of disrespect.
Boogie sat there with her in his arms and breathed her scent in. She smelled like flowers and vanilla or some shit. She smelled likehome. He loved it. Sweetie always had a way of making him feel like forever was an option. He was glad to see that hadn’t changed.
“Where you been?” he finally asked into her hair. It was silky and curly, just how he remembered it. Right now, it was piled on the top of her head, giving him the perfect view of her face when she pulled back. They faced each other and stared for a beat before she responded.
“Around.” She shrugged.
