Page 42 of Finessed By A Hood White Boy

“Go handle your business.” I said with a smile.

“Go handle your business,” Ace mocked me, and I flipped him off. “I don’t know how I feel about this shit right here.” Ace spoke honestly.

“Who said your feelings matter?” Ethan questioned.

“I’ma step outside. I’ll be back in a minute.” He kissed my cheek, making me blush.

The trio disappeared out of the room, and I assumed they went out to the back yard. Either way, I needed them to hurry up and discuss whatever they came to talk about. I could feel my patience running thin because I needed to be dicked down at least one more time before I left this man’s house.

CHAPTER 12

Ethan Whitmore

“Hold the fuck up. Before we get down to the nitty gritty. What's really going on with you and my sister?” Ace questioned me.

If he wasn’t my boy, I probably would’ve put my hands on him for questioning me like I owed him answers. Instead, I stood with my hands clasped in front of me with a smirk on my face.

“What you mean? That’s my little shorty.”

“Since when, nigga?”

“Since when?” I laughed. “Since we started fuckin, which was about thirty minutes before y’all popped up unannounced.”

Duke damn near choked as he tried not to laugh.

“Any more questions?”

“Nigga, I got plenty of questions.”

“Alright, the floor is yours. Go ahead and get it off ya chest.” I shrugged.

“She told you she’s married, right?”

“Yeah, and?” I shrugged. “She’s married to a bitch that’s on borrowed time.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Duke rub his face. He must’ve felt the energy radiating off of me.

“Since we’re asking twenty one questions. My turn, muthafucka.”

Ace folded his arms as if he was waiting for the challenge.

“What?”

“Did you know that muthafucka was beatin’ on her?”

Bruh's neck snapped back, and the fire in his eyes told me he didn’t know.

“Nigga, what?” He snapped.

He shot out of the seat, but I stopped him.

“Nigga, move.” He pushed my hands away as I blocked him from going back inside.

“No.”

We stood toe to toe, glaring into each other’s eyes. We were all quiet for a moment. The tone I used, they both knew what type of time I was on. I only used it when I wasn’t asking. I watched his nostrils flare and the muscles in his neck jump. I knew my boy was ready to put in some work and murk a muthafucka. As I looked into his eyes, I could see him imagining all the ways he wanted that muthafucka to die. Truthfully, I wasn’t mad at it. However, at this moment, I wasn’t about to let my boy run off emotions. It was all about timing.

“Chill, bruh. No need to say anything to her. It’s going to be handled,” I assured him.