Chapter 1 Bentley Atkins #2
“Yung Miami and her crew, Trina and hers, Rick Ross and his, then T-Pain and his. Are you expecting anyone else?”
“Khaled, but he already let me know it was a good chance he would miss it due to a prior engagement. It’s cool. Are they taken care of?” I had every guest set up with bottles and food on me.
“They are. You’re count is at 420. We max out at five without breaking the fire code. After that, it’s on you, boss man. What would you like brought up?” she questioned.
“Two bottles of Louis XIII and whatever this nigga want. Cap it at five. Don’t let nobody else in until somebody kick the boot,” I ordered.
“Got it. Is there anything else I should be aware of before I do my thing?”
“Nah.”
She nodded and was back in her phone. Pressing the button on the wall, the elevator she stepped out of doors opened.
I stepped around her and entered it. Kong followed suit after rattling off his order.
He stepped on and pressed for the third floor.
He waited until the doors were closed before he let some foolish shit fly out his mouth.
“You ain’t hit that yet? I mean, Mula bad as fuck,” he complimented her.
“Hell nah, and ain’t going to. Mula cool and pretty as hell but mixing business with pleasure ain’t my thing. Why the hell you looking at her anyway nigga? Fancy gon’ light yo’ ass up she get wind of that shit.”
“All I did was look. She know I’ll look all day, but touching is a different ball game. I ain’t ever disrespecting my wife like that. As a matter of fact, her and her girls should be on the way here as we speak,” he assured me.
The doors opened to our designated floor, and we stepped off being greeted by the security that guarded the third floor specifically. “Happy birthday boss. Waddup Kong.”
Nodding, I kept walking greeting each celeb that was in the building.
They told me happy birthday as well and some even handed over gifts.
I was more than appreciative. By the time I made it to my booth that sat in the cul-de-sac of the club, the DJ was on the mic and the spotlight was on me.
I was lowkey glad he was getting this shit out the way.
I was ready to relax and enjoy my night.
“Yo, yo, yo. We maxed out in this muthafucka right now. Y’all came out showing love to the head nigga in charge. Let me hear you holla for the nigga that gave you yo’ first shot of the night. Happy birthday, Big Bent!”
The crowd went stupid and in black people fashion, they sung me happy birthday.
I couldn’t lie, I felt the love, fake, but love, nonetheless.
A bottle girl showed up just in time with me and Kong’s order.
I grabbed a bottle of Louie off the tray and raised it in the air. She handed over a mic as well.
“I’m grateful to see another year so much thanks to everybody coming out for your boy. Like DJ Tank said, that first round is on me so enjoy that and enjoy yo’ night. Shots up!” I yelled.
Bringing the bottle to my lips, I gulped the cognac and those that had something in their hand followed suit. The crowd erupted as confetti fell from the ceiling causing the crowd to shout with cheers.
Taking a seat on the sofa, I got comfortable.
Kong stood looking over the banister admiring the crowd.
They was packed out in here fa sho. The hoes was throwing ass from wall to wall and the niggas was trying they best to catch it.
Tonight was for them more than it was me.
It was a rarity to party with me, so they was taking advantage.
I couldn’t even throw back another shot good before my phone was vibrating in my pocket. Retrieving it, I saw that it was my connect. She was an extraordinary individual; I had to give her that. I gave a light chuckle and answered with, “Catalina.”
“Estoy aquí para ti (I’m here for you).”
“Ven aquí. Estoy en el tercer piso (Come here. I’m on the third floor),” I responded.
Aunt Daisy made sure a nigga was bilingual. She always said never give another muthafucka an opportunity to make money that could easily be yours. Many didn’t know it, but I was fluent in three languages. English, Spanish, and French. You knew where your next business venture was coming from.
“Estás sola? (You’re alone)?” Catalina was as private as they came, and I respected it. I was sure she was cruising through this bitch solo dolo as well. For some reason, when she came to see me, she never brought her husband along.
“Siempre (Always).”
The call disconnected as Kong came over and took a seat to the left of me.
He grabbed his bottle of Azul and poured up.
Kong had been by my side since the sandbox.
He ran my operation while I played the shadows.
The one everybody had to get through on a regular basis.
I found it comical that people feared him ‘cause out of the two, he was the unserious one.
“You still meeting with Cat tonight?” he questioned.
“Yeah, that was her that just called. She on her way up now. If you think you gon’ be too fucked up to handle that shipment tonight, let me know now.”
“Nigga, I’ll be straight. I ain’t ever missed a drop, and I ain’t ‘bout to start now. Make sure Cat got what was ordered. She forgot a whole case of Glocks.”
“She said she made it right. We’ll see when it arrives.” I quickly noticed her person out the corner of my eye. I was more aware of my surroundings than others thought I was.
I could smell her perfume before she entered the section.
However, when she did finally step in, her scent became another form of intoxication.
Catalina smelled like old and new money.
Her father Antonio Perez had been my plug since I put my size elevens in the game but passed away two years ago making Cat the heir to his empire.
She was both my connect on the product and artillery.
Taking a seat, she leaned over and pecked the side of my face. “Happy birthday, Papi,” she whispered. Catalina was just as fluent in English as she was Spanish.
A low chuckle rumbled in my chest. Any other time, I’d say fuck her husband and take her pretty ass down.
A Cuban beauty that filled out anything she put on.
Thick in the thighs with a small ass waist. Her breast were nothing less of a d-cup and her ass was visible from the front.
I saw exactly why her husband made her his.
However, I couldn’t shake the chocolate honey from earlier. She was at the back of my mind making me curious ‘bout who lil’ mama was the more I looked in the face of another broad. Catalina was a good lay, but I wanted no parts.
“’Preciate it. You ready to do this?” I wasted no time getting to the point of her attendance.
“We can drink and party for a little first Papi. Why are you in such a rush?”
“I’m here for one thing Catalina. This partying shit is a front and you know it. Let’s go,” I said getting up from my seat.
I held a glass of Louie in my left as I cruised across the floor to the elevators.
I gave Catalina no time to object. I was about my paper and that shit didn’t change just because a nigga made another trip around the sun.
Once this shit was out the way, I had an hour in me before I reached my max level of irritancy.
The doors opened and we stepped on one after another.
She clung to my arm, and I shook my head.
Her husband was a fool to think she held any faithfulness in her body.
Another reason I never gave a bitch the real time of day.
They was too conniving for me. It was gon’ take a gem to change my mindset.
As soon as the doors closed, I placed my hand on the sensor allowing it to be scanned.
The first step of verification went through with flying colors.
Next, I stepped up to the eye scanner and went through that process as well.
When I said niggas would have to kill me to gain access to my layer, I meant that shit.
I trusted muthafuckas as far as I could throw them.
The B on the elevator walls lit up green finally giving the elevator a destination.
“Who’s the clients this time?” she inquired.
“Ex-military. They been in high demand for some reason,” I answered.
“I was wondering why MANPADS (shoulder held missile launchers) were on the list. The number in landmines were big as well but seeing who they’re for makes sense. Your ear still to the streets?”
That was something she knew the answer to before asking. I understood her cautiousness though. Business ran different from when Tony was in charge. She tried her best to mimic his ways but at the end of the day, she wasn’t him.
“Ain’t it always. We good Cat. Relax,” I assured her.
Finally, the elevator doors opened revealing the massive artillery hall.
Anything that came to mind, I had it. From petty ass .
22’s to shit that could wipeout your entire neighborhood in one go, all I needed was your preference and you was walking away a satisfied customer.
The room was also soundproof leaving me to cut a fool if I wanted.
My arm was released before she sauntered over to the table in the middle of the room picking up a set of gloves from it. She knew the routine so taking precautions was nothing new to her. Keep your prints off the merchandise. I followed suit grabbing a pair of my own.
She headed right over to the FN SCAR on the left and picked it from the wall. Smiling, I shook my head. She was a gangsta on the low and she wore that shit so classy. I walked over to the right side of the room where the shotguns were kept and plucked a Benelli M4 for myself.
Without saying a word to each other, we walked to the back where the gun range was and engaged in a shooting session.
We went at it for a quick ten minutes before she was pleased.
If I had to choose what was more exciting, it would be this small engagement than being the nigga that had a thousand eyes on him upstairs.