Not to say muthafuckers wouldn’t still come for me, they just didn’t. As long as they felt I wouldn’t affect their ability to makemoney and was no longer in the game, they didn’t feel like I was a financial threat. Now fuck with me on some personal shit and I’d kill your entire family. But as far as hustling went, that shit was dead and gone to me.
“Leaving Gallagher’s, what’s up?”
“You. I thought we were balling today. I know your ass ain’t bout to hit the courts if you just left there.”
I chuckled and looked up as my truck rounded the corner. I wasn’t the type to get overly excited about things, because I had a lot of nice shit, but this truck was easily becoming my favorite.
“Ay, don’t fucking play me. I’ll be there to whip your ass, so don’t be crying when I take your money. And bring cash this time.”
I reached into my pocket for my wallet and pulled out a fifty, the lowest bill I had. I hated to give this damn young ass dude fifty bucks just for driving my damn truck from the garage to the front of the restaurant, but I was fair, so I wouldn’t leave without tipping.
“I got you. Five grand a game and I’ll have cash. One time, Trooper, one fucking time I didn’t have cash on me and you still bringing that shit up.”
“Hell yeah I am, ’cause you still haven’t paid what you owe me.”
The attendant slid out of my seat and we met at the front. I placed the fifty in his hand and he lit up like a little ass kid.
“Thank you, sir. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
He beamed as I nodded and slid into my truck. I inhaled, wanting to take my money back because my truck had a faint fruity smell and I had to adjust the seat because of his short ass, but I rolled with it. I wasn’t a nasty dude.
“You talking about me, how about you stop your fucking crying. I’ll settle up today, just don’t be late.”
I smirked as I pulled away from the curb. “What the fuck ever. I’m heading home now to change. I’ll see you there.”
“Aight, bet.”
I ended the call and dropped my phone into my lap. I noticed my Bluetooth hadn’t automatically kicked in, so I glanced at the dash and noticed my system was on, just turned down. That still shouldn’t have mattered though. I frowned at the thought of this expensive ass shit being fucked up. If it was, I’d be heading straight to the dealership tomorrow so they could fix it.
Relaxing a little more into my seat, I reached for the volume and turned it up. That was when I really got confused. I damn sure didn’t know how the fuck a Beyoncé CD had ended up in my rotation. I knew for sure I didn’t even own that shit. See, this was why I didn’t like valet. They had no business fucking with my shit. My eyes moved about the interior of my truck and I instantly discovered the reason my truck now had a fruity scent, tiny clips attached to the visor that I hadn’t put there.
I reached above my head and grabbed one, bringing it to my nose. Sure enough, that was the problem.
“The fuck is going on?” I mumbled, confused as hell.
Moments later, I was stopped at a red light and my mind went back to the valet station where I noticed a key that matched mine. I was about to be mad as hell if I’d tipped his dumb ass and he gave me the wrong gotdamn truck. I leaned forward enough to reach into my glove compartment and that was when I realized I had the wrong damn truck. I should have been looking at about fifty K in cash, but instead, all I saw was the leather binder that held the vehicle manual. Sitting on top of it was a registration card I grabbed and read…Sophie Prescott.
I was so fucking pissed I hadn’t even realized the light changed until I heard horns behind me. Whoever the fuck it was had better been glad it was mid-morning on a Saturday or I would have likely jumped out and bodied their ass forbeing disrespectful enough to do that shit. Yeah, I had anger management issues, but coming up the way I had, that was to be expected.
“Fuck!” My fist landed on the steering wheel as I floored it through traffic, hitting the corner to head back to the restaurant. This was somthing I didn’t need. I didn’t like people in my shit as it was and I definitely didn’t want them driving it. They’d better pray she was still there or I would likely own the damn place.
I lifted my phone and called Los back to let him know I would be late.
“Ay, give me an extra hour. Something came up.”
“Aight, bet, but you good? You sound madder than a muthafucker, bruh. You need me to come strapped up?” This fool. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll explain when I get there. You just be ready to ball.”
“Fuck off my line with that. I can handle your non-shooting ass.”
“Yeah, remember that shit when you’re handing over them stacks.” I didn’t even let him respond, I just hung up.
Ten minutes later I pulled up at the valet again. The little young dude looked at me all happy and eager until I hopped out and he saw my face.
“Uhh, is there a problem, sir?”
“Hell fucking yeah, there’s a problem,” I said, bypassing him and moving toward his stand.
“Yo, where the fuck is the other key?”
