Page 86 of Just Like Summer

“Hell nah,” Haddon blew. “If the nigga can’t take rejection like a man, you need to hightail it. Ghost his goofy ass, otherwise he’ll get dealt with.”

Kamilla hadn’t shared her trauma with the group in whole. They knew pieces of the story surrounding Martez but not his end and what it cost her. Involving them in a mess she made was out of the question. She’d handle Armon at the right time with a long-handled spoon. This trip couldn’t come at a better time. Kairo was going to be with Fredo. Nate had business moves he was making, and Dania was swamped with clients. She’d fill them in with the details once she was home.

“Guys, I’ll handle it. The right way. For now, I need to focus on this, deal?” Kamilla bargained.

“Don’t have me snap that nigga and his tiny mustache in half,” Charlie mumbled, standing up with the bag of sweets and strolling to the door. “You didn’t want this pie, did you?”

Kamilla spotted the apple pie she got for herself in his bare hands. “No, you can have it. Greedy ass.”

Lucci stood, attention focused on his phone. “I’m out; contractions are fifteen minutes apart. Kamilla, make me proud.”

“Congratulations,” she hummed, earning a smile. “I’ll send flowers when I land.”

With Lucci and Charlie gone, Haddon leaned back in his seat and asked, “Why didn’t you hit that nigga over the head when he gave you that bullshit?”

Kamilla sighed and sat back completely in her office chair and looked out the window. A shrug bounced her shoulders before her mouth opened. “I don’t want to be in a position where protecting myself ends up fatal.”

“As opposed to being in a position where all the niggas charged with looking out for you turn him into Swiss cheese?” Haddon mused. “You ain’t weak. Fredo is your pop, you KP daughter, don’t let no suit and tie nigga dictate your future. I get you were getting back on the scene, but he was a cornball then, he’s a cornball now.”

“Why is he a cornball, Haddon?” Kamilla asked for entertainment purposes.

“Because this nigga rolled up on you with me standing there. If I were yo’ nigga, his head would’ve been smacked off his shoulders for that bullshit,” Haddon spoke.

“Well, let’s thank God you aren’t,” she quipped. “Speaking of which, that little date you went on, how was it?”

Haddon cut her a look and curled his lip. “She was a fan. You know how I feel about that shit.”

“Immensely,” Kamilla chuckled. “So no on her.”

“And no on you playing matchmaker,” Haddon pointed.

“I didn’t play matchmaker, I said I knew her from the salon; one of Dania’s girls does her hair. You were blinded by the titties and the ass. So that’s on you, homie. Not me,” Kamilla defended.

“Yeah, aight. You better watch out before I put you on to a real nigga and watch him change your life. Have you all submissive and shit, leaving work at a decent hour,” Haddon quipped back.

“No, thank you. I don’t even want the one I got,” she muttered.

“Then get rid of him and that baby ass ring.” He stood, held his hand out for their signature handshake, and started toward the door. “Get out of here, the flight leaves at six. Oh, and the next time to you to Long’s Bistro, bring me my own damn cookies.”

“I’ll expense it,” Kamilla joked.

“Expense the whole damn weekend. I’m going to be on accounting about it too. This is your first kid-free weekend since I met you. Enjoy yourself and use that golden ear. We got money to make.”

“And money to shake,” Kamilla replied to his back watching his fist pump.

“Muhfuckin’ right,” he stated before leaving.

Closing her laptop and sliding it into her leather carrying case, she unlocked her phone and called Fredo and texted Dania in tandem. True to his motto, he answered after the first ring.

“Baby girl,” he trilled. “What’s going on?”

“I got pulled into a meeting. When do you want to get Little Mr. Tasmanian?”

“Shit, I can get him right now. What you got going on?” Fredo asked with skepticism in his voice. “Going somewhere with that gel polish wearing nigga?”

Kamilla snorted in laughter. “Could you please! It’s not gel polish…it’s like a buff.”

“Keep telling yourself that. You from the hood, you know a nigga with gel polish on his fingers is a pimp and will slap a bitch. I’ll poke that nigga in his chest if the idea crosses his tight-pants wearing mind,” Fredo continued. “You know you can date multiple people. You don’t gotta sleep with them, you can just get to know them.”