Page 63 of Own It

“That’s real shit.” I nodded. “Phone cases. Fuck made you open a business dedicated to that?”

Giggling as she glanced at me, she said, “I love phone cases. Like, I switch them out for every season of the year and have a different one for each month. I pick out my phone’s outfits for the year before my own.” She drank some of her water, and I tried not to focus on how good she smelled. I knew she’d gotten perfume from that Sephora spot when she had me place an order, but I couldn’t be sure if that was it. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. “I know the best business to run is something you’re passionate about, and since I loved art and phone cases, I merged them.

“I started by drawing the designs and putting them on the cases, then once I started getting some success, I began working with other artists and launching collections. Lucky for you and your kidnapping plans, I don’t have another collection dropping for a month.”

She winked at me, making me half smile. I liked listening to her talk, and I was in awe of how she came into her business. A lot of people wanted to run a business and didn’t give a fuck what it was, so long as they could become rich and fuck off whenever they wanted to, but she put some real thought into it.

I knew from starting up Godfrey Baking Co. that it wasn’t easy birthing a business or becoming successful with the shit.

“So you can draw.” I nodded, realizing she was the first person I knew that possessed the talent.

“I can, but I’m not as talented as some of the people I collab with, which is why I don’t create the designs anymore.”

I just watched her, processing her words and. . . just her while she ate.

“That’s dope you made it this far, baby, and with odds against you like yo’ people.”

“Thank you.” She beamed. “But I do have a business degree, so there weren’t too many odds against me.”

“Degree don’t equal success. I met a crackhead with a master’s.”

“Seriously?” She laughed but caught herself until I grinned. “Liar.”

“Swear to God, but you can still laugh at the shit. And I don’t mean a functioning crackhead. He was on the block, teeth missing and every fucking thing.”

“Damn.” She giggled. “That’s funny but kind of sad.”

“It is, but I say that shit to say, don’t ever down yourself or take away from your accomplishments because you got a degree. You worked hard to build your business, and you ain’t gotta be humble ’bout that shit.”

“Thank you.”

“No need. Just speaking facts, baby. You being beautiful and successful is the same thing as me saying a chicken lays eggs; it just is what it is,” I spoke truthfully. “You being sexy on top of that is my opinion, though I’m sure plenty of niggas agree.”

“Shut up.” She blushed slightly.

“I like that you didn’t let yo’ parents bully you into some shit you ain’t wanna do. You got yo’ own mind and backbone. That shit ain’t as common as you think.”

“Yeah, I used to be so bothered by how they felt about me that I would be depressed for days or wondering if I should’ve listened to them, but I grew out of that, thankfully. Started funneling that anger, sadness, and resentment into my business and designs. Now, my parents don’t say much, just purposely make it clear they aren’t concerned with my career endeavors or business goals. But to be honest, I don’t think Serene wanted to be a doctor, but she was afraid to receive the treatment I have and to disappoint our parents.”

“See, not as common.”

“You’re right.” She ate some more. “They say kids react differently to their parents sometimes. They don’t all turn out the same despite growing up in the same household. A drunk father can produce a drunken son and a son who abstains from alcohol, just depends on the person they grow up to be.”

“That’s real shit.” I nodded, pondering on her insightful ass words. “I think my pops’ ways made me grow into an angry individual, especially in moments of survival,” I admitted for the first time ever in fucking life.

“What do you mean?” She scooted closer, giving me an even better whiff of her scent.

Putting my empty plate and tray to the side, I said, “He used to lock me up in closets, beat me to the point where I would have to stay home from school because I couldn’t sit and they knew authorities would be called if my teachers found out why I couldn’t sit at my desk. Or he’d make me watch my siblings eat, knowing I was hungry, whenever I misbehaved. It didn’t slow up until I started fighting him, going at his ass.

“So when I got older, if I felt threatened in any way, I would react violently. I was able to channel that aggression into boxing, though, so it kind of worked out, until that shit spilled over into smoking Judd for violating my woman.”

“That makes sense.” Her soft hand landed on the nape of my neck, sending chills down my spine. She didn’t move it either but instead began to massage, maybe feeling the tension in my muscle.

“Anyway, my brothers got the same treatment though on a smaller scale, and like you mentioned, we all responded differently to the shit. Ayan became obsessed with pleasing our father and turned into him. He’s one of the most selfish muthafuckas I’ve ever met, just like our dad. Josias became a problem child, acting out and eventually grew into a reckless man. Zaire, the youngest in a sense since he is a few minutes younger than Jojo, was too sensitive for that environment and developed an addictive behavior. Started with sweets when we were coming up. He’d peel off a whole case of soda because he couldn’t stop once he started, and as he turned into a man, soda became pills.”

The whole time I spoke, it was as if Daylin’s small fingers were kneading the information out of me, and I realized how fucking dangerous her ass was.

“I’m sorry.” She kissed my face, placing her lips right on the scar the inmate in California State Prison gifted me for laying his ass out.