Chapter 17
Verse Seventeen
“Fuck!” Donovan slammed his cellphone against the wall.
“This fucking girl. I swear.” He dragged his hand through his dreads, pacing back and forth.
He had no clue what happened, but Chaney hadn’t answered any of his calls or text messages.
He even called the shop and was told she wasn’t there either.
“You must have fucked up, nigga,” Scooter mumbled, trying to sleep with his arm over his eyes.
He was tired after all the errands he had run before they packed for their tour.
He had three suitcases, including one to carry his equipment.
Whenever he was inspired by something, he wanted to settle into his hotel room and push it out.
“How?” He lifted both hands. “I just saw her before we took off.”
“Then whatever you did happened after that.” Scooter yawned and sat up, realizing a nap was not in the cards for him.
“The fuck how? I’ve been with you.” Scooter stood and stretched, rubbing his stomach. He hadn’t eaten before they left, and he always passed on plane food. He wasn’t much of a snack man anyway. He turned on the television and accessed the room service feature.
“You hungry?”
“Naw, I need to wring Chaney’s fucking neck.” He grunted. “If she even with that bitch, I swear—”
“Hold up.” Scooter hiked up his sweatpants, his brows furrowed.
Before he assumed anything, he needed clarification.
His cousin was spiraling, which was understandable if his girl wasn’t communicating, but to insinuate anything that could be tied to his girl needed to be addressed. “With what bitch?”
“Nigga,” Donovan drawled with pursed lips. “The one you were friendly with. All that grinning in her face, smoking behind her, and giving her advice about her fucking person. Nigga, is you a fan or naw?”
A rough, short-lived laugh escaped Scooter’s mouth.
He’d never explain to another man about who he dealt with, because who he dealt with was his business.
In fact, short of Donovan not seeking retaliation for the sake of his freedom, he never once interfered as Chaney entered onto their scene.
As long as it didn’t impact the business, his opinion remained tucked.
“What?” Donovan lifted both hands. “I’m lying?”
“Naw, you’re tripping. The fuck I look like being a fan of anyone, and, honestly, she ain’t about to be another one of your bitches.
Take that shit out on your girl, or better yet, grow some fucking balls.
Shay’s been dragging your ass for years.
At this point, nigga, handle that shit with the laws yourself and sit down and do your time because between me and you, that bitch could never dry blackmail my ass. ”
“Oh yeah?”
Donovan smiled as he plopped on the sofa, grabbing his blunt.
He knew his suspicions were spot on since his intel came from Mango.
She was the closest to Scooter, and she was the family’s personal gossip column.
It didn’t take much for her to share how cool Kaleela and her sister were, even how she was no longer on any waiting lists for services.
Being Scooter’s sister had paid off in more ways than one, as Shonasia offered her a part-time job to work the front desk on the weekends.
“So, all that shit about you fucking Chaney’s girl is true?”
“Funny you should see it that way.” Scooter approached him, watching him release smoke with a smug look on his face. “’Cause I thought Chaney was your girl.”
“Nigga.” He flicked him off. “You know exactly what I meant. Old cripple ass hoe don’t put no fear in my heart.
She got y’all around here defending lame shit, like pulling on a nigga, that allowed her to still roll around and breathe.
All I know is when we do touch down, she better watch her fucking back. ”
“She might be crippled in her legs, but what she ain’t is crippled in her mind.
” He tapped his temple with a look of disgust on his face.
“At least she ain’t in fucking denial. She came and handled her shit with you.
That’s more than I can say with Gucci, who did fuck your bitch while she was your bitch. ”
He issued a sinister-like smile, working overtime not to pistol whip his own cousin. He loved him like he loved his own sisters, but Donovan was the cause of Donovan’s issues.
“Gucci told it already.”
“He did because he had to. Still, does that make what she did less of a violation? Seems to me you have higher expectations of my bitch than you do of yourself and yours. I suggest you let that shit go, my nigga, because I step hard behind my bitch, and I always will.”
He sat up, rage coursing throughout his body.
“And if I don’t?” He couldn’t believe his cousin, his own flesh and blood, was defending the one person who tried to take him out.
“Try me. Naw, better yet. Try Kee.” He shrugged, snatching up his wallet. He was about to go downstairs and book a separate suite. Gucci and Lanky shared one, while Nazir and security had their own.
“That’s what you calling her now? Kee?” Donovan leaned back and placed both feet on the table in front of him. “Damn, cousin. Who knew you’d be the one I’d have to watch out for?”
“You don’t,” he muttered and opened the door. “Bitch ass nigga.” He then pulled out his cell, realizing she hadn’t responded. At first, he thought sending her what he did was kind of lame, but it wasn’t, not when he knew it was tied to something she found great joy in or had at one time.
By the time the elevator opened, he was so busy pecking away on his cell, he almost ran into a group of people when he heard someone scream.
“Solomon, baby! Oh my God! I can’t believe it.” Serita leaped toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was caught off guard as his arm slid around her waist, holding them both up. She peppered his face with kisses until he steadied her on both feet. “Oh, and here’s my luggage.”
“Your luggage?”
“Solomon, I received the tickets. Of course, I plan to stay the night. We haven’t seen each other in months.”
She hiked one hand on her hip, one brow lifted. If it had been two years ago, or hell, even one, he’d feel compelled to give in and make tonight about them. He couldn’t, not when his desire was somewhere else.
“Solomon?”
He pushed out an exasperated breath, scratching the back of his neck. He wasn’t prepared nor in the mood to deal with Donovan’s bullshit or Serita’s entitlement. The way he saw it, even if he had invited her to the show, he never discussed her staying with him.
“Figure you would hang with your homegirls.” He honestly didn’t care where she went. All he knew was he needed to book a separate room to put some space in between him and his cousin before shit went so far left it would be hard for them to come back from.
“Pfft.” She pursed her lips. “Trellanie and Patricka are all in their feelings because I told them no backstage passes for them, and now I can’t stay?” He didn’t know if she even had one, but even if she did, he felt she was selfish as hell not to include her girls.
“Yo!” Serita spun to her right, and there was Donovan with a huge grin on his face. “Dread Man!” she screamed.
Before Scooter could enter the elevator, she jetted in Donovan’s direction.
Since they were cool, he could leave her there and have someone send for her.
As Donovan swung her around, Scooter stood with pinched lips.
He could already tell his cousin was on some bullshit when he opened the hotel room door and motioned for Serita to go inside.
“Sir, going down?” He looked up at the hotel serviceman, then back at his hotel door, a war raging in his head. He may not have been in love with Serita anymore, if he ever was, but he was raised better. His mother and Granny Rene would be greatly disappointed if he mishandled her.
“Naw.” He exhaled a deep breath, grabbed Serita’s luggage, and went back to the hotel room. He would just sleep on the pullout sofa.