4. Scotty
A Short Time Later
What’s Up Though . . .
“Nigga, where else is a tattoo gonna fit? You covered up!” Seneca said with a chuckle. “Talkin’ about you gonna get another tat.”
Seneca had jokes. We were chilling at Derrick’s cousin Declan’s tattoo shop/lounge, Ink Vibing. It was a cool-ass place to hang out. Derrick reached out yesterday to invite Grady and me to come chill with him, Seneca, Tiberius, Declan, and Stitch.
When I got to Charlotte and assessed the real situation with the body shop and all that came with it, I called my dude Grady, who was one of my managers for my shops in Chicago.
I needed that nigga down here with me to have my back along with the other four men I had come.
He was a strong right that also wanted to get out of the city.
This was a great opportunity for him to do just that.
My chuckle was quiet. “I have a lot of space for ink, man. How is a non-tatted nigga talking to me about tattoos, though? That’s an interesting concept. I heard Declan was cold with the needle.”
“Ha!” Derrick blurted. “I wonder who told you that nigga was cold with a needle. I only know one person that explains his skill with those exact words.”
Here this nigga goes. Before I could say anything, Stitch chuckled. “Right. The only person that I know that says that is Miss Blake. How’s it going with her, Scotty?”
He was right. It was Blake that told me about Declan since he was her artist. Every girl could not pull off a facial, neck, and chest tattoo the way Blake’s sexy ass did.
She came across as a hard shell to crack, but I saw through that shit.
For me, it wasn’t about her hard shell. It was about the tool needed to crack it.
I knew that I had that shit, so I wasn’t worried.
The first night that we went to dinner after she tried to play booked and busy, I decided that I would pursue her.
It was rare to meet a woman like Blakeney Collins.
She was more complex than any woman I had ever met.
On one hand, I knew that she would blow a nigga’s head off, and on the other, she would plan that same nigga’s baby mama’s baby shower.
The fact that she had the capacity to be a woman who made expecting parents feel safe and at peace while they awaited their life’s joy told me that she wasn’t as hard as she wanted niggas to think that she was.
Every time we interacted, I made sure I gave her insight to who I was because I knew that was what she needed.
“It’s going cool with her. Y’all got her around here thinking she’s a nigga, but I’m gonna break that shit.” I took a sip from my cup as I thought about her. My intrusive thought decided to voice itself. “Yeah, she’s gonna be my lil baby after a while.”
Everyone’s body pushed back in their seat a little when Stitch’s drink flew from his mouth. He grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. “Fuck, my bad. That was not anything I ever expected to hear from anyone.” He glanced at Seneca. “I guess you was right, nigga.”
My eyes ping ponged between the two men before they stopped on Seneca. I leaned my forearm on my thigh. “What exactly were you right about, Seneca?”
Seneca chortled before he peeked at Derrick. It was clear that he was in on whatever was so right. “Yeah, when I told Stitch about you after I met you in Chicago, I told him that you were what our sis needed in her life. I knew that you were the nigga that could handle her.”
“Man, when he told me that shit, I told him that there was no nigga that could handle her ass. Blake eats niggas up like piranhas. Sis doesn’t let these dudes live out here,” Stitch said.
My head tilted side to side. “I can see how that would bother the average dude, but I’m not that. She needs a nigga that can tell her what to do and she knows to do just that.”
“You better talk that shit!” Derrick said before he clapped his hands. “Scotty, I try to tell these niggas that they can’t let these females out nigga them. Blake is a whole figga in these streets. She needs a real nigga to calm her ass down. I told Seneca it was you.”
Everyone was silent for a moment. “What the hell is a figga?” Declan’s lip was turned up with his confusion.
Derrick cut his eyes at him. “A female nigga, Cuz. Y’all failed the context clues part of the curriculum in school, huh?”
This man was a different kind of man. He took everything serious and nothing serious at the same time from what I observed when I was around him. He was the type that, even in his jokes, he dropped jewels.
“Well, thank you for your vote of confidence. It means a lot that you niggas consider me worthy enough for Blake. I’ll be sure that y’all are on the invite list to our wedding and baby shower,” I told him.
I implanted myself into Blake’s life with intention. It seemed aggressive because it was. That was what she responded to. As much as she thought she was hard to figure out, she really wasn’t. It just took the right man to do it. I was the right man.
Later That Week
Take A Nigga To Dinner Then . . .
It was impressive how much business Touch of Gold received on the top and under the table.
It was understood why it needed to run smoothly with proper management.
The manager that I replaced had a greed problem.
He made side deals and skimmed from the top.
That was crazy, considering as the manager, I had a $70,000 salary.
That didn’t seem like a lot, but I also received 30 percent from all profits under the table. That was where the real money was.
Since I’d been here, I had already earned over $100,000 under the table. It was easy for me to wash my money since I came here with businesses already in Chicago. I was buying some property to rent out. Whether I decided to stay here or not, rental property was a move, no matter what.
“Aye, Scotty, that Hellcat you did yesterday was bad as fuck. That wrap was smooth as fuck. We never offered that service because no one knew how. Do you think you can teach me?” Ace eagerly asked.
His drive to learn was refreshing. “I definitely can. I’m gonna send you the website and pick a wrap you like. We’ll wrap your truck.”
His eyes bucked before he closed his fist and covered his mouth with it. “Oh shit! Are you serious? Okay, I’ll look when you send me the link. Thank you, Scotty. I’m happy you’re here. Our other manager wasn’t the greatest.”
I wasn’t sure if Ace knew about the underground. I was sure he may have heard, but he was a clean cut youngin.
“I heard, but that’s in the past. I want all of y’all to maximize your skills. Once you learn how to wrap proficiently, you can take customers. The labor fee will go directly in your pocket which is twenty percent of the overall cost,” I let him know.
I knew once he got it down, business would boom with new customers who wanted custom wraps.
I didn’t know that much about Ace, but he lived a cool life in a nice tiny home that he rented.
I asked why he didn’t get a bigger place, and he said that he had bigger before, and he wanted to appreciate just enough.
I respected that shit. He had a good head on his shoulders. He was clearly raised right by someone.
Since I moved here, Lashonda acted like she couldn’t manage life. I still paid all her bills, and one of my dudes from the shop dropped off an allowance once a week. She called me and claimed that she never received the payments. The cameras on her porch told me that she lied.
Every time Chap came to drop it off, he counted it out on the porch toward the camera.
He then rang the doorbell and stepped back to force Lashonda to step out.
It wasn’t until then that he handed it to her.
There was no conversation. It was known in our city that my mother was with good bullshit.
She also didn’t realize that I knew she moved that nigga in.
I planned to give her six months before I started to charge his ass rent.
It was almost time to shut shit down. At this shop, I worked on vehicles way more than I did back home. Ironically, I missed it. “Scotty, Megan is back. I’ve never seen a chick be as desperate to get a nigga’s attention. That shit seems dangerous,” Grady said.
I huffed before I closed my eyes. Megan’s vehicle came in a few weeks ago because of a fender bender.
She met me when she came to pick it up. From the moment she saw me, she led the conversation with her pussy.
I wasn’t interested, and I told her that shit.
She said just because I wasn’t interested didn’t mean that she couldn’t flirt.
Claimed that she would eventually wear me down.
Last week, she came in because she had a dent. When I looked at it, it was clear that she was the culprit that put it there. I didn’t say shit, because if she wanted to spend her money for a failed attempt to get my attention, then so be it. “What the fuck she need today?”
“She wouldn’t even tell me. She probably knew that I would tell her to move around.
Her ass is stupid as fuck. I hope all these southernish females aren’t like that.
If they are, I’m going to have to get my chick from home and bring her down here.
” Grady’s facial expression showed that he was clearly bothered.
I chortled. “Nah, they’re not. You just have to find the right one, just like at home. Let me see what she wants so I can get her out of here.”
I washed my hands before I headed to our lounge. When I walked in, my steps slowed at the sight of Blake. Based on how she was dressed, she came here directly from work. This was a surprise because I was usually the one that came to her job.
My head lifted in a nod toward her before I walked over to where Megan sat.
She stood to show her barely-there outfit.
She was dressed for the summer in late fall.
Her fucking pussy would catch a cold if she wasn’t careful.
Wait, what the fuck does that mean? I’ve been around these country niggas too damn long already.