“The one from the club, right?” Cyren questioned, wanting to make sure she was keeping up with the folks he introduced her to.
Heavy nodded. “Yeah. You trying to go with me?”
She was trying her best to keep her cool on the outside, but on the inside, Cyren was screaming. Not at him, but at herself. She’d picked the perfect time to up and move. A trip out of the country would’ve been the perfect reset. Instead of telling him no right now, she made up an excuse. Which, technically, wasn’t a lie.
“I’d love to, but it’s so last-minute. My job probably won’t let me.”
Heavy stared at her for a second longer than he should’ve. Something about her answer didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t figure out if it was all in his head or if Cyren wasn’t fucking with him onthatlevel.
“Ask em’ and see,” he pressed as she sat back down. “You like em’?”
Cyren nodded. “Mhm. Thank you, baby.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek.
While she slipped off the boots, another text from Cole came through. Heavy frowned, thinking he’d read the words wrong, so he reread the sentence.
She talking about if you want the money, to come get it yourself ‘cause she ain’t giving it to me.
Scoffing, Heavy typed outBetand slid his phone into his pocket. Tish called herself, trying to run shit, and this time, Heavy was going to remind her who the fucking boss was. He’d given her a pass on the strength of their relationship, but now she was pushing it.
“You okay?” Cyren asked.
Heavy glanced up and nodded. “Yeah. You ready?”
“Yes.”
“A’ight. C’mon.” He stood and grabbed her shoes since the associate hadn’t made her way back.
Pushing Tish to the back of his mind, Heavy paid for Cyren’s things and promised to enjoy the rest of their day. When he was ready to give Tish the attention she’d been begging him for, she was going to wish that she hadn’t.
13
If money still moved him the way it had when he was broke and trying to make a come-up, Heavy wouldn’t be where he is today. He followed the beat of his own drum and ran shit how he saw fit. That’s why he was parked outside of Tish’s crib at two in the morning, waiting for her to pull up.
Thanks to Mesha, Heavy had an inside scoop of what she’d been posting on social media. Tish hadn’t come right out and said his name, but speaking on what she did for him and how she helped line his pockets with money while he was locked up wasenough to cut her off for good. It would only take two plus two to figure out who she was speaking on, before it became four more other mothafuckas in his business. The same business Heavy didn’t need Tish for any longer.
Heavy ignored her and the sad quotes she sent him about loyalty and pouring into people who leave your cup empty. Women vented differently. He understood that hurt sometimes made people speak out the side of their necks, but bringing what he had going on into public spaces was crossing a line, especially after he’d spared her feelings more than once.
His truck idled quietly in the reserved parking spot in front of her house. Tish now stayed in a nicer complex, much better than the one he had visited before he got locked up. It was gated, with security, lawn service, and valet trash. It was the kind of place women moved into after years of surviving and finally having some money. It was well-earned, considering she used to share a cramped apartment with two other dancers and slept on a mattress with just a frame.
He’d watched her come up, and that was part of the problem. Love—or whatever version of it they shared—made her comfortable. Too comfortable sometimes.
Tish’s car pulled onto her street five minutes later. She backed in next to him and climbed out seconds later. Heavy suspected she had been at work, but based on her attire for the night, she hadn’t gone in at all. The high heels and mini skirt she was wearing were nothing like the leggings and T-shirt she’d slip into after a shift. Tish walked toward the driver’s side, and Heavy lowered his window halfway.
“You stalking me now?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
Heavy chuckled, though it wasn’t shit funny. “Nah. You’d know if I was stalking you. Back up,” he said, cutting his truck off and hopping out.
Tish moved out of the way, walking toward her front door. Heavy hit the locks and followed her inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Not the one he’d recently fallen in love with from someone else, but a different kind. A floral scent lingered in the air, along with the faint aroma of the hookah she smoked before leaving the house.
The place looked different from the last time he’d been there, too. A bigger television was mounted above the fireplace, and she had a new sectional with decorative pillows nobody actually used. Money—his money— had upgraded her living.
Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she crossed toward the kitchen island, dropping her purse beside a stack of unopened mail.
“You can sit down,” she said casually over her shoulder, hoping he planned to stay. “Or stand there looking irritated. Either one.”
Heavy’s eyes moved around once before settling on her. “I’m good. I’ll stand.”
Tish rolled her eyes while opening the refrigerator. “Of course,” she huffed. “Do you at least want something to drink?” she asked.
