Page 7 of A Capo’s Love: Featuring A Don’s Love

“I don’t give a fuck if that man is my dad or the mutha fuckin’ president,” I snapped. “I say all this to say, mind your pussy and not mines, Keish. I’m not about to go sit across from some stranger pretending I care about what gym he go to… I’m not interested in no nigga right now,” I clarified so she could let it go.

Every other week she had something to say about either my sex life or just dating in general. I never brought up her fucked up situationships unless she pressed me about what I did outside of working and hanging out with her.

“You ain’t gotta pretend nothing.” She stepped up next to me to pick up a bottle. “Just show up cute to the date and let him admire the architecture.” She smiled that big pretty smile that could light up a dark room.

Keisha was beyond beautiful inside out, even when she was being a nag like now.

“The architecture?” I raised both brows.

Keisha giggled and placed the bottle on the shelf then stepped back. She waved her hand at my body like she was presenting something to the empty room.

“Yes. That right there? Is structural excellence…while criminal you wasting it worrying about Jeremiah Reed, aka Maniac’s late night phone calls.” She rolled her eyes hard at the mention of my dad.

That made me pause and realize how much I had been talking her ears off about my suspicions of my dad lately. That nigga was up to some shit, and I wanted to know what it was. There was no secret that my dad was one of the biggest Kingpin’s in Southern California.

Often times, he got bored since he was one of the main suppliers basically making a cut off of anything that moved with his permission. Maniac becoming bored with his Kingpin status was never a good thing in my eyes. Lately, something had changed with him.

He beefed up on security and been having more private meetings that seemed unusual.

“I’m not wasting nothing,” I said calmly.

“You’re worrying hard about him again,” she corrected. “And worrying ain’t living, Mari.”

“I’m fine.” I quickly turned away from her to take in a much-needed deep breath.

“You lying your ass off”

“I’m working, Keish.” I swiped my hand across the shelf as I listened to the sound of her picking up more bottles.

“Sounds like hiding to me,” she mumbled.

“No hiding, just managing.” I shrugged.

“More like avoiding.”

I opened my mouth to respond when the stockroom door flew open so hard it smacked the wall behind it. Quickly, I turned to the sudden intrusion.

Tasha stood there breathing like she ran from the front of the building without stopping. Her big beady eyes were wide, too wide. Not drama wide or customer problem wide. It was fear wide.

“Amaris.” Her voice shook.

“What happened?” I asked immediately, preparing for the worse.

“There’s a man out there asking for the owner,” she rushed the words out.

“Niggas do that all the time when they coming to floss or just to see Maniac.” Keisha waved her off with a roll of her eyes.

“No,” Tasha whispered in disbelief. “Not like this.”

My shoulders tightened.

“What you mean not like this?” I asked, stepping away from the shelf of liquor.

“He is sitting in the back of the lounge. He has security spread out, out numbering Mr. Reed’s men.”

Keisha straightened beside me.

“The VIP lounge?” Keisha asked.