“Okay. Definitely tell Honey I came back,” she says.
“I got you,” he assures her. “You be easy.” He pulls her back in for another of his bear hugs. “No nigga should handle his girl the way he did. I’m glad you got away. Real shit, I’m happy fo’ ya. But stay away. Don’t even think about him or this fuckin’ place again. You deserve better, baby girl,” he tells her with somuch sincerity and love. Before letting her go, he gives her a big squeeze then lightly brushes her cheek with a brotherly peck.
“Thanks, Ced,” she utters before walking off.
Chapter
Eight
Honey really keepsher personal life totally separate from this club and everyone and everything associated with it. No one knows her real name or even what side of town she lives on. Although there are three dancers with animosity toward her, they have no real intel. They eagerly spoke on her stealing some of their customers, having favor with the owner Ano, and fucking one of the security guards but they have no clue who she really is. So, after no luck with the bartenders and the small group of dancers on the floor, Akeem slides off the bar stool and makes his way through the club. As he treks through the main floor, heading toward the back, he looks for Sunjiya but doesn’t spot her.
Maybe she found someone to talk to,he thinks as he walks.
Always cognizant of his surroundings, especially all entrances and exits, while sitting at the bar, Akeem kept his eyes on the back left door. Unlike the other four doors in the club, that one had limited to no activity. In the thirty minutes he watched, he noticed no dancers or even servers walked in or out.
It’s guarded by a security guard who clearly has a nicotine addiction. About every eight to ten minutes, he pulls a vape fromhis pocket, takes a puff, then walks to the men’s restroom, still smoking. He’s usually gone for just a few minutes but a few minutes is all Akeem needs to get behind the door.
When he’s a few feet from the door, the guard pulls his vape out, takes a few hits, and walks off. Akeem inches forward the moment the guard disappears into the restroom, rushing over, pulling his gun from his shoe, and opening the door. His gun is up and aimed as he walks in.
“Nigga, what the fuck!” Ano’s gruff voice barks when Akeem closes the door.
“Relax. I just want to talk,” Akeem says before turning the lock. He notices Ano trying to slip his hand under his desk to retrieve his twenty-two. “If you move, my mouth won’t be talking. My gun will and she loves to pop off,” Akeem warns and Ano angrily shakes his head.
“I got a club full of niggas willing to die for me, playboy. You picked the wrong muthafucking office.” He smirks then flashes his mouth full of gold teeth.
“My man, I assure you I picked the right one and I’m not too worried about your security. I got in your club and in your office with this,” Akeem says as he nods toward his weapon. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s fuck your security,” he says boldly and Ano sits up as to puff his bony chest out. “And I said don’t move. I won’t say it a third time.”
“What the fuck you want?” Ano spits.
This isn’t the first gun pointed at him and it’s likely not the last but Ano has standards. Two things he will never do: lose a hoe to another man and bitch up to any man.
“Honey. I’m looking for Honey,” Akeem says.
“All of this over some pussy,” Ano huffs.
Ignoring Ano’s far off assumption, Akeem merely says, “Where can I find her?”
“Hell, nigga. I don’t know. If I knew where to find the bitch, I would drag her monkey ass in here and have her shaking ass on my main stage. Shit,” he hisses.
“So you don’t know where she lives?” Akeem asks skeptically. “I know she had to fill out paperwork to work here.”
“The fuck she didn’t. This is a cash business. All I ask for is a damn ID to make sure these bitches are legal. That’s it. That’s all,” Ano insists.
“Then where’s hers?” Akeem asks while stepping closer to Ano’s desk.
“In there,” Anon says while slightly nudging his head toward a small gray file cabinet on his left.
“Stand up. Get it and don’t try shit. I will shoot you and not miss. Trust,” Akeem says. When he nods toward his gun, Ano stands, raises his hands, then steps toward the file cabinet. He pulls out the top drawer and uses his fingers to flip through his files. Because they aren’t in chronological or alphabetical order, he’s looking blindly. “Hurry up,” Akeem urges with extra bass in his already deep baritone.
“I’m looking. Shit,” Ano says frantically. Then he shakes his head.All of this for a bitch I should fire anyway,he thinks but doesn’t say out loud. He’s not talking anymore. His only objectives are to find this damn license and get this nigga with the gun out of his office and fucking club. When he finally finds the copy of Honey’s license, he snatches it out of the cabinet and tosses it to Akeem. The paper falls on the floor.
With a slight chuckle, Akeem grits, “Do better.”
Huffing, Ano slams the drawer closed then turns to face Akeem. His glare instantly fades when he notices the intensity on Akeem’s face.This nigga ain’t playing,Ano thinks as he grabs the paper. Once he retrieves it, he hands the paper to Akeem.
Finally, he speaks again. “That’s all I have. Leave my establishment please.”
Akeem studies the paper. A front and back copy of a Georgia driver’s license with the name Honey Black. From the quick study, Akeem deduces it’s a fake but stuffs it into his pocket. He’ll review it thoroughly once he’s out of the club.
