Obligated

JUSTE

I threw my head back and grunted out softly. I was sitting in my office chair at home head throwed back with a hand full of Chiana’s braids wrapped in my fist and she had my dick in the back of her throat. I looked down at her lazily as she came up for air letting spit drip from her mouth to the head of my dick, before she took me back in her mouth. I felt her hands wrap around my dick as she came up sucking the tip swirling her tongue at the same time driving me crazy. She glanced up at me with those eyes that knew just what they was doin', lips slick and glistening. Her pace slowed, teasing, like she was remindin' me who was in control—and who really wasn't. "Fuck Chiana you gon make me nut,"

I growled out. She hummed taking me in her throat fully while locking eyes with me from under the desk. That did it, I filled her throat as I growled out a loud moan. Knocks started at the door snapping me back to reality. We had a house full of family down stairs. We had ordered take out since mama was still in rehab and we had came together to discuss the grand opening of the shopping center development out in Thiloux. It was two weeks away and we needed to finalize what vendors would be there on opening day.

I looked down at Chiana under the desk, she still had a mouth full of dick making me smirk. "Yo!"

Noles voice boomed on the door like a damn battering ram. "We sent y'all up for paperwork, not a private freak session."

Chiana's eyes popped wide and she snorted with laughter before taking me out of her mouth and stuffing me back inside my pants, quickly wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and crawling from beneath the desk. I stood and adjusted myself, sighing deep and annoyed.

"Damn, can't get five minutes,"

I muttered under my breath. Chiana fixed her braids like nothin' happened and leaned over the desk to grab the vendor list. "Tell him I was on the floor lookin' for a pen,"

she whispered with a wicked smile. I smirked, swatting her ass. "Yeah, a pen... that took your whole throat."

We both stifled laughs just as Noles flung the door wide open, lookin' annoyed as hell.

"There y'all go. Damn. We down there waitin’ and yall in here fuckin'"

Chiana breezed past Noles, stone-faced like she wasn't just on her knees beneath my desk, but I could see the giggle she was fightin' to keep down from the slight shake in her shoulders. Noles squinted at me, then at her, then sucked his teeth. "They should've sent y'all to rehab wit' Mama ass."

I chuckled low under my breath. "Man, shut up and come on,"

I said, brushing past him and straightening my shirt. "You sound jealous."

"Jealous? Nigga, please,"

he muttered behind me as we made our way back downstairs. The kitchen and dining area was filled with noise—plates clinkin', laughter bouncin' off the walls, kids runnin' in and out, and the smell of crawfish drifting through the air. Everybody had pulled up for this meeting. The shopping center out in Thiloux wasn't just a money move—it was legacy. Black-owned, built from the ground up, tucked in a pocket of Louisiana folks had damn near forgot. This was personal. I took my seat at the head of the table, Chiana slid in next to me with a fresh mimosa giggling with Nia. Pierre, Noles, Jules, and Pop was seated at the table, vendor lists and maps of the development spread out between 'em. Even Lulu pulled up on the FaceTime screen, posted in Houston tryna make sure he was looped in. "Aight,"

Pops said, leanin' in, hands clasped like he was holdin' court. "We two weeks out. I want a clean run. We need to tighten up security, finalize vendor lists, and we still waitin' on three permits to clear."

"And,"

Pierre added, "we got them local food trucks comin' through, the ones Chiana suggested. She locked down some good-ass ones from that lil' festival she dragged Juste to."

Everybody laughed. I smirked, noddin'. "That jambalaya truck? Keepin' that,"

I said. "That shit slap."

Chiana nudged me under the table with her thigh. "Told you."

My tone turnin' serious. "Thiloux gettin' left behind. This development? It ain't just bout bread. It's about showin' our people we ain't forgot 'em. That we got the resources to build somethin' beautiful in a place they said couldn't hold value. And we get to clean this money, and start back movin' product heavy."

Pops nodded. "And makin' sure we got the manpower to protect it."

That shifted the energy in the room. Because everybody knew what he was talkin' about. Maseon. Even with him layin' low, he was still a threat. I hadn't said much, but I knew in my soul that fuck nigga was gonna show his face again. It was just a matter of where. Or when. "We got backup vendors in case some fall through,"

Chiana added, breakin' the tension. "We still need a few more tents and setups for the kids. Bounce house, games, community partners."

"I'll reach out to the Mayor, and sherrif"

Jules said, tappin' into his phone. "Get some off-duty presence out there."

"Do that,"

I nodded, then looked around the table. "I want cameras on every corner. If anything feel off, I wanna know before it even touch the ground."

Everybody nodded in agreement. The shit was bigger than just business now. This was about territory, presence, and makin' sure the St. Jean name stayed untouchable. "Pops, you talked to Ma? She gon' be able to make it?"

Noles asked, leanin' back in his chair, voice low. I already knew that question been sittin' heavy on everybody's chest. Mama been up in that rehab for three weeks now, and if we was being honest, it was the longest she'd been still in damn near a decade. Pops sighed, standing up and grabbing his keys off the table. "

I'm headed out there to see her now. "

Just as he exited the door, the front door swung back open. Amina strutted in with that carry-on rollin' behind her and her TSA-approved uniform sittin' .

"We on Bourbon tonighttttt, periodddddtttt!"

she sang, droppin' the suitcase and throwing both hands up like she was onstage at a bounce concert. Chiana and Nia fell out laughin', damn near knockin' into each other. I just crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so y'all just... gon' announce y'all leavin' us behind? Chi you ain't said shit bout no Bourbon"

I asked, side-eyein' Chiana hard. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Y'all? You don't even like Bourbon Street."

"Yeah, 'cause it smell like piss and ass. But if y'all steppin', we steppin'. You know damn well that shit aint gon fly."

"Unh uh, hold up,"

Nia cut in, brows raised, arms crossed. "Jules is my damn sitter, how you just gon' invite him? You tryna mess up what I got going."

Jules looked up from tying his shoes like he ain't just get caught in the crossfire. "Girl what? I ain't know I was committed to nothin' tonight."

"I'm talkin' 'bout these kids, Jules. Not me and you,"

she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Ima be wit my li'l red bone tonight,"

Noles said, drinkin' straight from his red cup like the shit was water. "The one work at the daycare with the gold tooth. She said she cook smothered turkey necks. We can watch the kids. I miss em anyway."

"Man, don't be tryna use my house to fuck your lil daycare hoe,"

Jules shot back, snatching his phone off the counter. Noles shrugged, real cool. "Nigga you need the sitter, not me."

Right then, Pierre walked in still chewin' . "Mina, I thought I told your ass no 'bout that Bourbon Street shit."

She hit him with one of them high-pitched giggles, walkin' straight up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck like a trap. "Well, it's too late now, everybody goin'."

Pierre exhaled hard, clearly tryin' not to fold. "Man... you some bullshit"

"I know,"

she sang, kissin' his cheek and then slappin' his chest lightly like she owned the whole block. "That's why you love me."

I looked around the room, even though I hated Bourbon, hated the crowds, hated the smell... I wasn't lettin' Chi out my sight. Not tonight. Not ever again.

_

We all linked up at Jules and Nia's spot so everybody could pile into one truck. It was easier that way—less parking to worry 'bout on Bourbon, and we already knew how this crew got after one too many drinks. Chiana, Nia, and Amina were huddled up at the end of the kitchen counter, lookin' like they was castin' spells over a damn bag of edibles. That same pink-labeled gummy bag Chiana been sneakin' into all week. She already popped a few on the way over, eyes low, giggle too loose. "That's enough diggin' in that damn bag now,"

I called out from the other side of the kitchen, leanin' against the fridge with my arms crossed. "Y'all tryna fly before we even hit the block."

All three of 'em turned around like kids caught in the candy jar. Chiana slid the bag behind her back like that made a difference. "Ain't nobody even doin' nothin'."

"Ain't nobody ask you to lie neither,"

I muttered, smirkin' while reachin' for a bottle of water.

Right then, the front door creaked open and Noles walked in with a girl on his arm. And when I say girl—I mean it. She had that high-yellow skin tone, some bone-straight platinum weave with a swooped bang, and that one glittery-ass gold tooth on the side that flashed when she smiled. You could smell the lip gloss before she even got close. My brow raised slightly. Noles only twenty-four, but she looked like she was just figurin' out financial aid. Pierre leaned around the corner and blinked twice. "Oh, so you a cradle robber forreal, huh? That's why we ain't never met her."

Me and Jules busted out laughing. "She legal, man,"

Noles muttered, grinnin' proud like he was tryna convince himself more than anybody.

The girl giggled, all soft and bashful, tuggin' at her off-shoulder top like she wasn't used to this kinda attention. She had a light voice, said her name was Marcet, but everybody called her "lil red. "She made her way to the living room taking a seat while Nia gave Noles a run down on the kids. "I already fed 'em. Don't let Jezel stay up past ten,"

she said, not even lookin' at him while she tied her hoodie around her waist. "And if she ask for a second Capri Sun, tell her no."

"unc got dis."

Noles mumbled. We all piled into one truck like we was back in high school. Me, Jules, Pierre, and Noles up front—while the girls slid in the back, already gigglin' too damn loud. Amina pulled out a small bottle of tequila from her purse like she was pullin' a card in spades. I peeped them in the rearview as we rolled down the street. Chiana passed the bottle to Nia, who took it like it was holy water, throwin' her head back and takin' a full swig. The way they was cuttin' up back there, I knew we was in for a long-ass night. I shook my head.

By the time we made it to Bourbon, the whole block was alive. Music filled the air, mixin' with the steady basslines droppin' from bars on every corner. The scent of fried food, cheap liquor, and weed floated heavy. Neon lights blinked above the balconies, beads flew down from balconies, and drunk tourists stumbled past dressed like it was Mardi Gras, even though it wasn't.

We'd been out there about an hour now, and they asses was Toasted. Slurrin' they words, laughin' at shit that wasn't even funny. Talkin' loud like they was the only ones on the street. I was tipsy myself, not gone lie. I had a cup of Crown in my hand, sippin' slow while I walked a few paces behind Chiana them.

She had on them ripped jeans that hugged every curve—ass sittin' real pretty—and a fitted halter top that tied behind her neck, showin' just enough skin to keep me possessive.

I watched her from behind, drink in one hand, cell in the other, turnin' to Amina with a grin so bright it lit up her whole damn face. She was happy tonight. Carefree. And I couldn't even lie—it did somethin' to me. I'd seen her broken, bruised, quiet... Now she was light again. And I wanted to bottle that shit up and keep it safe. "Juste!"

she turned around, eyes a little glassy. "You gon' just stare at me or you gon' come dance?"

"Girl, I don't dance,"

I chuckled, catchin' up to her, hand sliding low on her waist. "You know that."

"You gon' do it tonight,"

she giggled, leanin' into me. Her breath smelled like tequila and sweet cherry slush. She tugged my hand and pulled me toward the crowd where a street band was playin' somethin' old school—Frankie Beverly & Maze. The vibe was too right. People all around was two-steppin', singin' along, spillin drinks without a care.

Chiana grabbed both my hands, started swayin' her hips in front of me. I caught myself smilin'. Not that fake-ass public smirk either—this one was real. Pure. "You feelin' good tonight, huh?"

I asked, pullin' her closer so her back hit my chest. "Mhmm,"

she nodded, lookin' up at me over her shoulder. "You feelin' me?"

"All day,"

I muttered against her ear, lettin' my hand brush across her bare stomach. "Always."

We danced like that for a minute—her leadin', me lettin' her. Bourbon felt good tonight. no tension in the air. Just vibes, music, and my woman actin' wild and free in front of me.

She ran off gigglin' with Nia and Amina, stumblin' a little in them heels, tipsy and full of life. The three of them was walkin' ahead, arms locked, loud as hell and not givin' a damn. Bourbon had that effect—brought out the wild in you. "You swear you in love, nigga,"

Pierre muttered, sippin' from his oversized neon cup. He had a grin on his face, but he was dead serious. "Man, fuck you P,"

I chuckled, shootin' him a bird. I turned and looked at Jules "You still messin' with Jade or you finally got that hoe off your line?"

He shook his head, jaw tight. "Hell nah. She been callin', tryna tempt a nigga like everything still everything. But I'm tryna figure out what me and Nia doin' for real."

"Better figure it out quick,"

I said, glancin' toward the girls again. "Before somebody else do."

Ahead of us, they'd stopped dead in their tracks, all three starin' up at a second-story balcony full of young niggas leanin' over the rails, throwin' beads and catcalls. Amina was already poppin' off, hands on her hips, mouth movin' like a machine gun. Nia and Chi just giggled behind her, tryna calm her down but low-key enjoyin' the attention. "Aye, hold my cup,"

Pierre said, pressin' his drink in my hand and yankin' up his pants. He was already stalkin' toward the girls with a look that said he wasn't on no chill. "Ay bruh, don't cause no scene,"

Jules called out, but we already knew what time it was.

I squinted up at the balcony just as Amina lifted her shirt, flashin' them niggas with zero hesitation. Beads flew down like confetti. Some drunk white boy yelled out, "I LOVE PRETTY TITTIES!"

in the background. Pierre reached her quick, grippin' her around the neck from behind—not hard, but firm. "Girl, what the fuck is wrong witchu?"

he hissed, yanking her shirt back down. Amina squealed, half-laughin', half-chokin'. "Boy, chill! It's Bourbon!"

"Nah, fuck that,"

he growled. "You ain't on no damn spring break trip, Amina. Tighten the fuck up man."

One of the dudes from the balcony started poppin' off, tossin' more beads down toward Amina. "Damn, Red! Come up here, lemme see them lil cherries again!"

Before Pierre could even react, I stepped up and tossed the cup I was holdin' down on the pavement, eyes locked on the balcony. "Aye, y'all might wanna stay y'all lil asses up there,"

I warned, voice low but sharp enough to slice through the street noise. "Y'all drunk, not stupid."

The energy shifted real quick. They stepped back from the rail, still talkin' but not as bold. Nia grabbed Amina's arm and pulled her to the side, eyes wide. "Bitch, I said be bold—not belligerent!"

"she ain't got no sense,"

I muttered, pullin' Chiana to my side as she tried not to laugh. "Y'all play too damn much."

"Jus, it was just for fun,"

Chiana said, kissin' my cheek. "You know Amina wild."

"Yeah, and Pierre gon' put that wild shit on lockdown if she don't chill,"

I replied, eyes still on the balcony.

Pierre had Amina tucked up under his arm now, whisperin' somethin' in her ear that made her roll her eyes but fall silent. She stayed close, though—like she knew she crossed a line. Nia grabbed Chi's hand and pulled her off toward this little ducked-off club on the corner called Jezebels—neon red lights buzzin' above the entrance like they was flirtin' with the street. Amina broke free from Pierre's grip, struttin' behind them like she was the damn headliner. I just shook my head, lowkey relieved. My feet was startin' to talk back.

"Shit, thank God,"

I muttered under my breath, stretchin' my arms as we stepped inside. Inside Jezebels, the vibe flipped real quick. It wasn't one of them overhyped tourist traps. This joint was darker, cooler, had that throwback feel with thick bass in the speakers and red lights bouncing off gold-framed mirrors. Smelled like fried chicken and brown liquor—real New Orleans shit. We slid into a tight little booth in the corner. It was one of them U-shaped setups that barely fit all of us, but we made it work. Chiana, Nia, and Amina were still over at the bar giggling and ordering another round like they hadn't had enough already.

"Man,"

Jules sighed, stretchin' out and lookin' around like he was home. "Can we get some chicken at this muthafucka? Few brews and three cups of Hennessy, red bone?"

he said to the bottle girl that walked up, thick and glossy with a notepad in hand. She laughed, poppin' her gum. "I'ma see what I can do, baeby. But you gon' have to behave."

She winked and strolled off, hips switchin' like she knew she was being watched.

Pierre leaned back, arms crossed. "She thicker than gravy. My lawd"

He chuckled. "Yes sirrrr"

Jules added. I nodded, eyes trailin' over to the bar. Chi was standin' with her back to me, laughin' at somethin' Nia said. Her hips swayed while she talked, hand on her hip, sippin' out that big-ass drink like she ain't got a care in the world. That lil tied-up shirt had me itchin' to untie it. My baby was tipsy and glowed under those red lights. Then her body language shifted.

She stopped laughing and leaned in toward Nia, whisperin' somethin' that made Nia stiffen. I followed her gaze—and that's when I saw Nash. He snatched Nia up real quick with a smirk on his face, and in an instant, That nigga had Nia up against the side of the bar, damn near kissin' the gloss off her lips in front of everybody like he ain't give a single fuck. His hand was on her waist, pullin' her closer. And the look on her face—like she wasn't even fightin' it. Like this wasn't a room full of witnesses. Like her husband wasn't twenty feet away.

Jules saw it two seconds after I did. He stood up so fast the table damn near flipped. I watched him reach for his waistband, eyes locked on the back of Nash's head. His face was blank, jaw tight, and that vein in his neck was poppin'. Oh, this shit was about to go up. "Nah... fuck no,"

Jules muttered, low but lethal. Me and Pierre was already movin', makin' our way behind him just in case shit turned left. "Come on Jules, she don't even mean shit by that!"

Amina rushed to his side, heels clickin' fast as hell. She tugged on his arm, tryna talk him down, but his eyes ain't leave Nash.

"Nah, fuck that. They think this funny?"

Jules barked, voice sharp enough to slice through the music, loud enough to pull heads from every corner of the club. The bounce beat thumped beneath our feet, bass hittin' hard like it was synced to Jules' blood pressure. Folks was still dancin', but the energy shifted—eyes started cutting over, curious at first... then cautious.

Then Jules snapped. His hand moved swift as hell—clean, practiced—snatched the Glock from his waistband and clicked the safety off like it was second nature. The barrel pressed against the back of Nash's head before anybody could blink. Nia gasped, jumpin' between them, her hands up, eyes wide. "Jules, don't! Don't do this!"

Nash stiffened. His whole body went stone still like he knew better than to make one sudden move.

Jules wasn't lookin' at me. Wasn't lookin' at Nia. His whole focus was on the man who'd dared to cross that invisible line—put hands on what was his. I saw it in his face: he wasn't even here anymore. He was somewhere deep in the past. Some old shit from high school still clawin' at his chest. "Jules,"

I said low, steppin' in close, one hand grippin' his shoulder tight. "Not in here, my nigga. Not like this."

He ain't blink. Just breathed heavy, jaw clenched tight.

Across the room, Tanya—the club owner—rushed over, heels clickin' hard against the floor. She stopped short when she saw the heat drawn, eyes buggin' slightly as she looked at me.

"St. Jean, we don't want no trouble in here,"

she said low, lips barely movin'. I nodded once. "I got it."

"Jules,"

I said again, firmer this time. "Different time, different place."

His eyes finally cut to me. They were bloodshot, glossy with rage. But behind all that... hurt. Real hurt. I leaned in closer. "Come on, Ju. It's too many people in here, too many witnesses. Get your wife. Let's go before this turns into a murder scene."

He stared at Nash another second, then finally he stepped back.

Click.

He tucked the gun back in his waistband, hand still hovering like it could come back out any second.

He didn't say a word to Nash. Didn't even spare him a look. Instead, he turned to Nia—voice cold, empty. "Let's go."

Nia nodded fast, still shook, and fell in step behind him. Her hand ghosted over his back like she was scared to touch him but scared not to, too. We moved out fast. Me, Chiana, Pierre, Amina trailin' behind. The club had gone half silent now—music still playin', but the vibe was off. Folks whisperin', pointin'. You could feel it in the air.

We got outside, the heat of the New Orleans night hittin' us like a wall of bricks. Bourbon still buzzed, music blastin' from other clubs, lights blinkin' over balconies, the smell of fried food and weed blendin' in the air. Jules kept walkin', straight to the truck. Pierre leaned in to me, voice low. "He really was gon' kill that nigga."

"Yeah,"

I muttered, "I know."

And I ain't blame him one bit. We piled into the truck, Jules and Nia climbed into the third row, still steamin'. Chiana slid up front beside me, arms folded tight across her chest, while Pierre and Amina crammed into the second row, Amina already halfway poutin'. I pulled off, the engine rumblin' low as we pulled away from all the lights and noise of Bourbon Street.

Through the rearview, I peeped Jules and Nia already goin' at it. "You stupid as fuck, Nia,"

Jules barked, his voice bouncin' around the inside of the truck. He pointed a finger dead in her face, mushin' her forehead back like a big brother scoldin' his lil sister. "Stop putting your fuckin' finger in my face, Jules!"

Nia snapped back, swattin' his hand away. "you don't even have to do all of that!"

"I ain't even get to eat no damn chicken because of this stupid ass shit!"

Jules hollered, throwin' his hands up. "You fuckin' that nigga or some? Huh?"

His voice cracked, hurt bleedin' through all that rage as he grabbed her shoulders roughly, pullin' her toward him. "Aye, come on now, Ju,"

Pierre said from the middle row, turnin' around and holdin' a hand up. "Do that shit when y'all get to the comfort of your own crib, man."

"Nah, fuck that!"

Jules barked, voice thunderin' through the truck. "Nigga, My bitch, the bitch that I got paperwork on, got me out here lookin' stupid! Slobbin down a nigga in public like I ain't that nigga!"

Nia lunged at him slapping him before he restrained her. "Ima show your hoe ass a bitch,"

She screamed. I gripped the wheel tighter, my jaw clenchin'. The truck was dead silent except for their arguin', the tires hummin' low against the road. Chiana shifted next to me, mumblin' under her breath, "They gon' fight the whole damn way home."

I kept my eyes on the road but spoke low enough for her to hear. "That's they marriage, Chi. Let 'em bleed it out."

Amina tried to jump in from the middle seat, tryin' to keep it light. "Jules, you need a drink and a prayer. Maybe even a lil' holy water."

Pierre snorted, "Both they ass need to chill out. They even now I don't enn know why they doin all that."

That pulled a small giggle outta Chiana, but she quickly covered her mouth. Meanwhile, Nia crossed her arms, leanin' back against the third-row seat, rollin' her eyes so hard I thought she was gon' roll 'em straight out her head. "If you ain't happy, Jules, leave then,"

she snapped. "Ain't nobody beggin' you to stay."

"You got me fucked up,"

Jules growled low. "I'd die 'bout you, Nia, but remember you don't live in a world without me and I don't exist in one without you. You just forgot that shit."

The whole truck went heavy again. Nia blinked at him, her mouth twitchin' like she wanted to say somethin' slick... but instead, she turned her head toward the window, silent.

I blew out a slow breath, turnin' the music up just a notch, lettin' Kevin Gates drown some of the heat in the air. I slid a glance at Chiana out the corner of my eye. She was sittin' quiet, her hand slidin' over to rest on my thigh, squeezin' gently. I covered her hand with mine. At least for now, we was solid. But the way things was movin'... I knew peace was always temporary in our world. Always.