“Good, ’cause you know we’ll be shutting that shit down. Ain’t nobody fucking with us on any type of level,” Los said and nodded to confirm his own statement. “Ay, what happened to ol’ girl, did she ever call your ass or what?”
I chuckled and thought about how Sophie had yet to use my number. I thought for sure she would have called me that night after I put her ass on the spot, but then again, a man like me was out of her comfort zone. Just sitting across the table from her that night, I had her on edge. I felt the tension as she tried her best to pretend like she wasn’t feeling me. I saw right through it.
“Hell no. She ain’t fucking with me like that,” I said, joining Los with two beers, one of which I handed to him then sat across from where he was positioned.
“Word, I never thought I’d see the day when Trooper Carter couldn’t lock down pussy.” Los smirked before he lifted the beer to his lips and turned it up.
“That’s not a problem I will ever have, trust, muthafucker. Sophie wants me. In fact, she’s likely somewhere creaming while thinking about me, but she’s afraid to act on it because of what I’ll do to her.” I turned up my beer and focused on my TV, which was currently on Sports Center showing highlights of last night’s game.
“Oh, so you doing it like that? Get the fuck outta here with that, Troop. If she not calling, it’s because she scared. Maybe she just ain’t attracted to you.”
“Yeah aight, keep thinking that shit if it helps you sleep at night, but trust me. She wants what I have to offer.”
“I commend your ability to believe in yourself, Troop. If you don’t believe it, no one else will,” Los’s stupid ass said with a smirk before he placed the blunt to his lips again and inhaled.
“Get the fuck up out my spot with that slick ass shit you’re talking.” I glanced at him before I pointed to my front door and Los smirked.
“Aight, cool. I’m leaving, but not because your ass is putting me out. I’m leaving because I have something to handle, but hit me up later and we’ll work out the details for tonight.’
“Fuck you mean work out the details, Los? What are we, some bitches? We ain’t strategically planning our outfits and moves. I’ll meet you there later. That’s all the gotdamn planning we need.” I only said that shit because it would fuck with him.
“You ain’t shit, Troop. Trying to play me.” Los turned up his beer then placed it on the table in front of him before he stood.
“Keep it one hundred.” Los extended a closed fist to me, which I met with mine before he turned to head for my front door.
I chilled for a bit longer, finishing my beer before I decided to get dressed and head out. I had a few things to take care of before I could chill later tonight.
An hour later, I was dressed. On my wrist was my classic Air King and I completed the look with a Giants fitted that hid my face. I decided to switch shit up today, so I grabbed the key to my Lamborghini and left my Manhattan apartment.
As soon as I hit the lobby, all eyes were on me. A mixture of old ass rich white people and the staff who worked there watched as I moved like a king toward the front doors. Not all of them were hating, but it was evident which ones felt like I didn’t belong there. I loved it.
After I made my way to the garage, I slipped into my car and was on my way. My first stop was the bank. After checking on my accounts and my safe deposit boxes, I left with the intention of making rounds at a few of my businesses. But for some reason, I kept thinking about Sophie. I didn’t know if it was because Los had brought her up, but I needed to see what was up with her.
Sitting in the bank parking lot, playing devil’s advocate with myself, I pulled out my phone and Googled her ass. I smiled when her picture immediately came up in my search.
“Sophie Prescott. CEO of Prescott Marketing Group,” I read aloud, impressed by her status.
Not many women were in positions like that. I could tell she was important by how she carried herself, but seeing it was an entirely different story. The crazy thing was that as confident as I was, knowing who Sophie was had me questioning myself.
Not that I ever doubted my abilities, because I had money and respect, but only in the streets. That didn’t mean shit in her world. I was just another hood muthafucker with money. Regardless, that didn’t take away from wanting to see what she was about, so I was about to take my Black ass down to Prescott Marketing and drop in on Sophie.
As soon as I made it to her building, I parked and headed to the entrance. It was nice as fuck, but that was to be expected. Even being from the streets I knew a little about the Prescott family, mostly who I assumed was her father though. He basically owned the business world in New York. Prescott had his hands in all media arenas—television, radio, print. I remembered coming up and Story telling me that my goal should be to own half of what Prescott owned. Story was hood as fuck, but he was smart as hell too. Even from prison, he made sure I took my ass to college and invested in businesses.
He was the only person in my life who ever cared about me or my future. He put me on my first real street hustle, and when he got knocked, he handed over everything to me as long as I promised I would get out before I ended up like him. I did just that, and to this day, I respected and appreciated him for making me the man I was today.
Once I entered the smoke colored revolving door, I checked out my surroundings. The marble floors were trimmed in gold and embossed with the Prescott crest. I made my way to the security station and nodded at the guy behind it.
“What floor is Sophie Prescott on?” I asked, glancing at the wall behind him lined with gold plates listing names and suites.
“Ms. Prescott is on the twelfth floor, but I’ll have to call up to see if she’s available. May I have your name, sir?”
“Trooper Carter,” I said, annoyed that I couldn’t just go on my own. I wasn’t used to other people controlling my actions and that didn’t sit well with me.
“Just a moment, Mr. Carter.” He lifted the phone and dialed while I watched and waited.
“Ms. Prescott, please, this is Martin.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Prescott. You have a Mr. Carter here to see you. Is it okay if I send him up?”
