“Yep,” I chirped. “Wait. The cake,” I panicked. “You didn’t throw it away, did you?”
“Nah, I left it there. Figured it was ruined. Housekeeping can take care of it,” Yaseer shrugged.
“If your dick was clean enough to go in my mouth, then I can still eat the cake. It’s too good to waste,” I explained just before my eyes landed on Wayne sitting at the bar.
“Yaseer, why didn’t you tell me someone was in here?” I fretted, my cheeks heating from embarrassment.
“My bad, beautiful. I’m sure Wayne has heard worse.”
I rushed into the bedroom to grab the cheesecake and took a deep breath before I had to face this strange man who had heard my vulgar comment. When I returned to the common areas, Wayne was stacking our luggage onto a cart as Yaseer continued clicking around on his phone.
“Is that a rental car you are driving?”
“No, it’s mine.”
“So where you leaving it while you go to the airport since you don’t live here anymore?” Yaseer pried.
“I’ve been leaving it in the long term parking lot. I haven’t been back to Miami in months, and when I first left, it was an impulsive decision. I didn’t have time to play games with people, so I just left it there.”
“Oh,” he nodded, still clicking around on his phone.
“Wayne, you follow us to the airport.”
“It’s really okay. I know you have to get your daughter to catch your own flight,” I stated.
“It don’t work like that,” he refuted. “I’m going to make sure you get there, then I’ll go handle my business.”
“Okay,” I nodded because there was no use in arguing with him. I’d learn that the hard way.
When we got to the valet stand, Yaseer’s truck was already pulled to the front, and I dug around in my purse for the valet ticket.
“I think I left the ticket in the room.”
“Nah, I had Wayne bring it down here while you were getting ready so they could already have them pulled around,” he clarified.
“Wassup my man, where the Bentley at?” Wayne asked the valet attendant that jogged in our direction.
“Ummm, my manager is actually coming out to speak with you guys. He’s right there,” the young black man pointed over our shoulders at a man dressed in a suit.
“Hello, my name is Keith Stanford. I want to start by apologizing about the inconvenience, but there was a gentleman who came here last night and claimed the Bentley. He said his wife lost the valet ticket and…”.
“I’m sorry, what?” I sputtered, stepping towards Keith, but Yaseer quickly stepped in front of me, silently urging me to calm down.
“So you let a random motha fucka take her car?” Yaseer quizzed, his thick eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Biting into my bottom lip, anger coursed through me. First, the hotel staff allowed Yaseer to gain access to my room, now someone took my damn car. I whipped out my phone to open the My Bentley app to track my vehicle’s location as my chest heaved up and down.
“He had a photo ID that matched the name on the vehicle registration, and he knew the make, model, and tag number. Our valet followed protocol by bringing in management. I was not on duty at the time, so I cannot speak to the incident any further. The gentleman did allow our staff to take a copy of his photo ID, and it matched the names on the account that initially booked the hotel. We can pull the footage and give you access to everything we have on file. Again, we’re deeply sorry.” Keith detailed, brows pinching with remorse.
I looked at Yaseer, whose jaw flexed before he went in on Keith. “Motha fuck yo apology. You think that’s good enough when you let a motha fucka ride off in her shit?”
“Yaseer, it’s okay. Just take me to the airport before I miss my flight,” I urged him when the location finally popped up on my screen. “Nobody stole my car. I have the location. I know where it is.”
“You sure?” Yaseer queried.
“I’m positive.”
Yaseer mugged Keith before leading me over to his truck. Wayne started packing our luggage inside while we sat in the car. My phone started vibrating back to back with pictures from Quinten. I laughed at myself when I saw there were pictures of me and Benjamin entering Oleans, and me and Yaseer pulling out of the parking lot of Oleans. There was a message that followed that picture.
Scum: You think you about to ride around with another nigga in the car I bought you? You out of yo fucking mind. Have that nigga buy you a car.
