“Tired ofme?”
“Yeah. Ain’t that what I just said? You act like–nevermind.”
“No, Mr. Carter speak your mind. But please… keep it business.”
“Fuck business. My problem with you is personal, nigga.”
“Nigga?”
He shook his head and sat back against his chair. “Mahogany. You frustrate the fuck out of me.”
“Not my problem.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I don’t control your emotions. You control those yourself. This meeting is over.”
He shifted his eyes up at me, the corner of his top lip slightly curled up. “Not until you apologize.”
I drew back again. “Apologize for what?”
“Shardae’s incompetence and for Couture’s inability to uphold high standards.”
I snorted. “Crescent, you’re full of shit.”
He raised his brows. “Now I’m full of shit. What kind of CEO are you, baby?”
I stood up. “Fuck you. I’ll see you in a next week. In the meantime, check your emails. Respond to them. Uphold your end of the contract. Don’t be unprofessional and sloppy in business, Mr. Carter. I’ve heard great things about Skylight Industries. Show me,” I shot back, using his words back on him.
With that, I turned on my heels to leave the office. He didn’t bother walking me to the door and I didn’t give a fuck. When I walked out of the office, I made sure to slam the door behind me. Asshole.
8
DUKE
“You good, my nigga?”Cecil asked, with a laugh.
With my eyes closed, I nodded. “Hell yeah.”
“What possessed you to hit the fuckin’ blunt? You wylin,” he said with a laugh. “You fucked up.”
I tossed my head back against the back of the couch and chuckled a little. “Shit, I don’t know.”
I did know. I knew very well.Life. Life made me hit the blunt. I wasn’t a smoker. Hadn’t touched my lips to a blunt since I was a little nigga. Today though, I said fuck it and accepted the blunt when it was passed to me.
I was at Tank’s crib. After spending the majority of my day at the hotel I was staying at, I said fuck it and got on the phone with my niggas. They always had something going on and I needed a distraction. Without it, I would be stuck in my head, thinking about Mahogany. Thinking about them. And about how much my life was changing… shit about how much it’d already changed.
It had been four days since I last seen her. Four days since I heard her voice. Four days since I stepped foot in my home. Shit was eating at me. My heart ached. Literally. Before, I didn’tknow what the fuck a broken heart felt like but these days I knew. I had something to go off on and I didn’t like it. Not at all.
“What the fuck goin’ on at the crib, my baby? You good?” He asked.
Lazily, I opened my eyes and hit him with a half-smile. “I’m straight, nigga. I just... wanted to hit the fuckin’ blunt.”
“Nah,somethin’up,” He doubted. “You know that nigga Tank ain’t gon let you leave the crib like this right? You might as well get cozy.”
I didn’t say anything. I closed my eyes again and tossed my head back on the couch. The room began to spin. Cecil kept talking but I didn’t know what the fuck he was saying. Shit sounded like whomp, whomp, whomp to me. The music blasting was really the only thing I could hear. An old ass Jeezy song. If I were sober, I would have remembered the name of it. Drunk and high, I could only take a trip down memory lane. Song took me back to a happier time. I was on knucklehead nigga shit, but I was happy. Happier. My shorty was my shorty and shit was copacetic. I wasn’t like this. Back then, God still gave a fuck about me. He couldn’t give a fuck about me now. I prayed, prayed and prayed but what I get? This. The short end of the stick.
I laughed and dragged my hands down my face. Karma was eating me the fuck up, wasn’t it? Crazy how shit came back full circle like that. Crazy how I thought I’d gotten away with what I did. I thought I was scot-free. Thought just because I changed, life would look up. And to be honest, that’s how shit should have gone. I didn’t see why I was being punished for something I did when I was a different nigga. Fuck was this, bro?
