Page 99 of Own It

“So who is this guy? Because you acted like Shaun was the love of your damn life in the past.” She giggled drunkenly.

“A very nice man, Serene.”

“Hmph.” She drank some more.

“You better slow down, or I’m gonna have to drive your ass home.” I looked her way, seeing she’d brought the bottle with her.

“I’m spending the night.” She sank back into the couch, seemingly in deep thought.

“Need a break from them munchkins and Avant, huh?”

“No, because I’m tipsy, Day.”

Laughing at her ridiculousness, I said, “It’s fine to need a break, Serene. You run your own practice, you have a husband and two kids which can sometimes feel like four kids, so I would get it.”

“How would you get it when you’ve never been married or even gotten a pregnancy scare, let alone have had kids?” She frowned. “My husband, kids, and career are perfect. I have no reason to want some break or getaway.”

Snickering humorlessly, I nodded. “Okay.”

“What was it like being kidnapped?” she queried after a few minutes of silence.

“Scary, as most would assume.”

“Day, give me something. We were worried as hell about you the whole time, and Daddy would barely tell us shit. He just kept saying he had it under control and for us to carry on with our normal lives for your safety.”

I looked over at her to see she was actually genuine in her interest.

“It was scary, and he was really mean at first. But then we talked, and he told me why he was doing it, and I low-key felt bad.”

“Felt bad for him kidnapping you for money? Is he the man you’re fucking now?” She guffawed, not even realizing how on the money she was.

I wanted to burst her bubble about the fake ass ransom and tell her my father was lying, but I didn’t know if that would fuck over Rakim, so I chose to hold off for now.

“I’m gonna go.” I rose. “I’m not in the mood to talk. I need to be spending my time with my nigga to make sure I get married and have a perfect life like you.”

“Smartest thing you’ve said all night!” she shouted to my back, and I didn’t even acknowledge it.

FOUR

rakim

ONE WEEK LATER . . .

“You need something, my nigga?” The scrawny ass block-boy queried as soon as he hit the corner.

I was at the top of the food chain, supplying little niggas like him boss’s boss with product, so it was no surprise when muthafuckas didn’t recognize me. I preferred shit that way. I didn’t wanna be the plug that niggas knew at first sight. Shit, I didn’t even want the praise. Keep it.

If they did know my face, it was likely from my boxing days or the murder I’d committed, but seeing as those were both almost a decade ago, it was an infrequent ass occurrence. The ones who did remember, though, usually showed love, commending a nigga for handling shit for his woman. Downside to that group of muthafuckas, though, was that a small sum of them knew Ayan’s woman was the same girl I sat down for. These new niggas had no idea Ayan Godfrey’s main thing used to belong to his brother or that his brother killed for her ass. Couldn’t lie and say I didn’t prefer the latter.

“Yeah.” I looked around the dark street.

“What, nigga? I ain’t got all fucking . . . day.” His last word was damn near a murmur when I took my hood off, revealing my heat at the same time as I prodded his throat with it.

“Calm yo’ ass the fuck down. That little bit of money ain’t going nowhere, nigga.”

“Look, I only got fifty on me⁠—”

“Shut yo’ ass up.” I spoke menacingly but kept my tone cool. “You be out here selling fentanyl?”