YaYo
“You said we would be chilling tonight. Now all of a sudden you gotta go to the club?”
Kayla narrowed her eyes at me from across the room.
Her hair was full of rollers and she had on one of them little red nighties that made it real hard for a nigga to remember his own name, let alone his responsibilities.
The woman knew exactly what she was doing too.
She sat there looking all soft and innocent while simultaneously dressed like a distraction sent personally from God to test my commitment to business.
“Baby, don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“That thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you act like you don’t know what you doing.” Kayla’s lips twitched.
The liar couldn’t even keep a straight face.
Meanwhile, I was over here fighting for my life.
Business was calling though. Unfortunately, money didn’t care about my relationship problems. I sighed and started fixing my watch, trying not to look at her too long.
Looking led to thinking. Thinking led to bad decisions.
Bad decisions led to me canceling plans and ending up tangled in that bed for the rest of the night.
My niggas from Vegas were in Memphis, and a nigga wanted to show them a good time.
Rook, Bishop, and King, also known as the Vaelorian triplets, were not just regular clients.
I’d been introduced to their mother, Queen, years ago through business with her husband.
Back then, the old man ran everything. Then life did what life always seemed determined to do and took him off the board.
Instead of folding, Queen stepped up and let her sons take over the operation.
Them boys turned out to be monsters. Good monsters.
Business monsters. The type of niggas who could negotiate a million-dollar deal before breakfast and still make it to brunch looking unbothered.
Over the years we’d gotten real acquainted.
Not just through business either. We’d partied together.
Traveled together. Survived enough bullshit to establish real respect.
When somebody moving three hundred bricks a month through your operation for five straight years, eventually the relationship becomes bigger than paperwork.
These were my people and right now my people wanted more product.
A lot more. Vegas was moving through inventory faster than they could restock it, which meant they were looking to scale up in a major way.
I’m talking numbers so big they made accountants nervous.
Missing tonight wasn’t an option. Not when this type of money was sitting on the table.
Not when expansion opportunities like this didn’t come around every day.
Still...I looked back over at Kayla and remembered why rich men disappeared.
Because if temptation had a face, it would probably be standing here right now looking annoyed.
“Ma, it’s just business tonight, I promise. I will be back in a couple hours tops.”
“What the fuck ever, Yayo. You’ve barely been home and now you magically got some super important business you need to tend to. Well, maybe I’ll just go out and have fun my damn self then.” She tried to spin off but I snatched her ass by the roller.
“Mmm Yayo, let me go,” she moaned out. It was then I knew why she was picking a fight.
“You know what it is, Sourpatch. If you want it, all you have to do is ask.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she panted. “Just go if you gon’ go. Don’t expect me to be up when you get home either, nigga.” She tried to push away, but I held her by her waist.
“Tell me what you want,” I whispered low in her ear before licking it.
“Isaiah—”
“Mmm. Not what I asked, baby. Tell daddy what you want.” I twiddled her nipples, loving the feel of her nipple rings against my finger tips.
“Sssss, I want to feel you inside me, baby. Stay home...please,” she whined. My dick was brick hard and I wanted so bad to bend her over, but a nigga had to dip. Besides, her attitude had been fucked up lately, so maybe this would leave her with something to think about until I got back.
“You gon’ lose your attitude?” I slid my hand around her throat, placing my fingertips in the hearts tatted around her neck, while the other traveled down a wet pussy.
“I don’t have an attitude, I'm just missing you Papi.” She grinded against my finger.
Fuck it, a nigga was just gon’ have to be late.
Her shit was calling me and I needed it in the worst way.
Sliding her thong to the side, I bent her over and gave her ass an attitude adjustment.
The way she sucked me in made me want to say fuck leaving altogether, but I couldn’t do that.
After getting a dose of her dopamine, a nigga cleaned up, tucked her in, and dipped.
I pulled up, hopped out the car, and tossed my keys to the valet before pushing through the front entrance of the club.
The place was jumping tonight. Music rattled through the walls, lights flashed across packed sections, and every booth looked like it had been reserved weeks in advance.
Since summer started, business had been insane.
Between the club, my trucking company, and a few other ventures, money was moving so fast a nigga barely had time to sit down and count it.
“Ayeee. What's poppin’, you psychotic ass nigga?” Rook stood, grinning with a bottle in one hand and a thick woman hanging off his arm.
Out of all three brothers, Rook was easily the wildest. Bishop and King were a little more calculated.
Not less dangerous. Just better at hiding it.
All three of them were crazy in their own special way, which was probably why we got along so well.
Most people heard the thoughts in their heads and ignored them. We tended to entertain ours.
“Ain’t shit. What good, Bishop? King?”
“My nigga,” King pulled me into a quick embrace before taking a sip from his glass.
“Feel good to get the fuck out the city for a minute. Niggas been on one nonstop in Vin City,” he said, referencing the city nicknamed after them since they practically ran it.
Mob ties didn’t have shit on this family.
“Business booming?”
“That’s an understatement.” Bishop laughed.
“We got people calling all hours of the day. My phone ring so much I’m thinking about throwing the shit in a river.”
“Do that and they’ll call the office.”
“Exactly my point.” We all laughed.
Rook pointed toward two women sitting nearby. “This my little sister, Princess, and her best friend, Russia.”
“Hi Yayo, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Princess batted her eyelashes. Immediately three different brothers looked at her like she’d lost her damn mind.
“Princess, stop playing with me before I put your ass in a headlock for trying to flirt with this nigga in front of us,” Rook said, King and Bishop cosigning hard behind him.
“See? This why we can’t take you nowhere.”
“She grown.”
“Grown with absolutely no survival instincts.” The entire section burst out laughing as Princess rolled her eyes.
“Y’all act like I’m twelve.”
“Nah,” King replied. “We act like we know you.”
That got another round of laughter. She was bad as fuck, but I ain’t have time to go to war with the Vaelorian brothers or Kayla behind this barely legal jail bait. Even if I would snap, crackle, and pop their ass like Rice Krispies treats.
The women wandered off to do their own thing, leaving us to catch up. “Listen, Yayo, we gotta up the numbers. The product movin’ way faster than anticipated.” Bishop spoke up first, cutting straight to business.
King nodded, leaning forward. “Nigga, we pushin’ hundreds of bricks in one week alone. Vegas thirsty as fuck right now, we need bigger shipments, and quicker.”
I smirked willing to indulge them. “Bet, I got chu. What’s good with Queen though? How’s she holding up?”
“Man, Mama Queen out here wildin’. Last week she pistol-whipped a nigga then took him to brunch the next day talkin’ bout ‘violence builds character’. Shorty really out here raising niggas right.” Rook laughed loud and unhinged as ever.
“That woman got three assistants, two housekeepers, a chef, and still somehow calls us every day complaining she ain’t got enough help.” King nodded.
“Yesterday she called me because the Wi-Fi was acting up.”
“So fix it.”
“I was in another state.”
“Did that stop her from calling?”
“No.” Bishop lifted his bottle.
“She told me if I really loved her I’d learn how to repair internet towers.”
I nearly spit out my drink. “She said what?”
“Word for word.”
“That’s y’all fault,” I told them. “Y’all spoiled her.”
“We know.”
“And now we paying for it.”
“Every damn day.” We all laughed at that shit, shaking our heads as we lifted our bottles.
“A toast to future endeavors, fat pockets, and no cases!”
“Facts!” they echoed, clinking bottles before we turned up and partied the night away.
Needing a breather, I stepped away and headed upstairs to chop it up with Majeston.
Shit had been weird ever since finding out that nigga was Ysis’s pops and honestly, a nigga still didn’t know how to take it.
On one hand, we were partners in Euphoria.
On the other hand, the man had always moved like a father figure, putting me on game, showing me different shit, and teaching me lessons I didn’t realize I was learning until years later. Now all of it made sense.