CHAPTER FIVE #2
As the night progressed and the business talk wrapped up, I made my decision.
Sosa's offer was too good to pass up, but I was gon start small.
I needed to test the waters with a five-key order and see how shit played out.
His goal was to expand in the city and the suburbs, my goal was to expand to our neighboring states, like Michigan, Iowa, and Indiana.
Little did he know I was about to bump him out of his position real fucking soon.
One thing was clear though, I would be keeping my sisters far away from future meetings with these niggas from GMB.
I didn’t want that drug dealing shit for them.
They both needed men with some legit shit going on, and I knew firsthand how street niggas got down.
They can call me overprotective, overbearing, strict or whatever, but for my blood, I’m gon protect them at all costs.
* * *
I was still eyeing Sosa, making sure he kept his fucking eyes to himself, when I spotted shawty across the room. Lizzette. My shorty. Well, not officially my shorty, which was part of our problem, but in my mind, she was mine and only mine.
She was standing near the DJ booth in a tight gold dress that hugged every curve God blessed her with.
But what got my blood boiling wasn't how good she looked; it was the nigga she was looking good for.
Some tall, flashy motherfucker in some weak ass designer clothes.
He had his hand on the small of her back, whispering in her ear while she laughed like he was Dave Chappelle or some shit.
"Everything good?" Yah-Yah asked, noticing my change in demeanor.
I didn't answer. My eyes were locked on Lizzy and homeboy, watching as she touched his arm, her red fingernails against his blazer. Something primal rose up in me, something I usually kept on a tight leash.
"Excuse me for a minute," I said to Sosa, standing up slowly. “I got some personal business to handle."
Sosa followed my gaze and smirked "Go handle ya business Bro.”
I moved through the VIP like Moses parting the Red Sea, niggas stepping aside when they clocked the look on my face. I kept my pace casual, my expression neutral, but inside I was raging. Who the fuck was this clown with his hands all over what was mine?
Lizzy didn't see me coming. She was too busy giggling at whatever weak ass lines this nigga was spitting. I slid up behind her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against my chest in one smooth motion.
"Yatta! What’s up babe," she gasped, her body stiffening against mine. "Whatchu’ doing in here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I replied, keeping my voice low but hard. "I didn't know Club Bleu was your type of vibe shorty."
The nigga she'd been talking to sized me up, clearly not recognizing who he was dealing with. the way he stood told me he wasn't a real street nigga, he was just another rich boy playing gangsta in the club.
"Aye bro," he said, his voice all proper and shit. "We conversating right here, chill out."
I ignored him completely, keeping my focus on Lizzy. "Who the fuck is this nigga?"
Before she could answer, dude stepped closer. "I'm Kyle. That’s who the fuck I am, who the fuck are you?"
Now I turned to face him, letting him get a good look at me. "I'm the nigga whose bitch you touching on. That's all the fuck you need to know."
Lizzy's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm not your bitch, Yatta. You made that shit perfectly clear last week."
That stung, but I kept my face stone. "Aye man, fuck all of that; come on lemme holla at chu’." I said, grabbing her arm.
"Shorty looks like she’s cool on you, Bro.” this bitch ass nigga said, putting his hand on my shoulder like we was cool or something.
I looked down at his manicured hand, then back up at his face.
"You got three seconds to remove your hand befo’ I fuck you up."
"Yatta, stop," Lizzy hissed. "Kyle is a potential client. He owns restaurants downtown and was talking about booking me for some events."
"Is that what they calling it now?" I scoffed. " He looked like he was trying to book more than your event planning services."
Dude’s face hardened. "Yo’ watch yo fucking mouth. Lizzy is cool peoples and you're being disrespectful as fuck right now,"
"Nigga mind ya fucking business, I aint talking to yo’ bitch ass." I warned.
He stepped closer, chest puffed out like he was ready for whatever. "Or what?"
I didn't waste any more words on his ass. My first connected with his jaw before he even saw it coming, a clean hit that dropped him straight to the floor. Lizzy screamed, stumbling back as people around us scattered. Security was on us in seconds, but the damage was done.
The entire club erupted into chaos, bottles breaking, women screaming, niggas shouting. I grabbed Lizzy's arm, steadying her as she nearly fell in her high heels.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she shouted over the noise, tears of anger in her eyes.
Before I could answer, Yah-Yah and Mya pushed through the crowd toward us, both looking concerned and pissed simultaneously. "We need to go," Yah-Yah said, eyeing the security guards heading our way.
I nodded, fishing my keys from my pocket and tossing them to her. "Y'all take my car. I'm leaving with Lizzy."
"Yatta, we should all—" Mya started, but I cut her off.
"Aye what I just say? Take the Benz and go straight home. I'll hit you in the morning." She looked like she wanted to argue but thought better of it. Smart girl.
"You sure?" Yah-Yah asked, already pocketing my keys.
"I'm sure," I replied firmly.
Without waiting for their response, I put my arm around Lizzy's waist and guided her toward the back exit. She was stiff against me but didn't pull away.
Once outside in the cool night air, she shoved me hard. "Get the fuck off me! I can't believe you just did that!"
"Where yo’ car at?" I asked calmly, ignoring her outburst.
"Fuck You!" she snapped, but still digging in her clutch for her keys. "And you're lucky I'm not leaving your ass here to deal with this bullshit."
We walked to her white Audi in silence, tension crackling between us. As soon as we were inside and she'd pulled out of the parking lot, she exploded.
"What in the actual fuck, Yatta? You embarrassed me in front of a potential client worth thousands of dollars! Kyle Thompson owns three of the hottest restaurants downtown!"
I adjusted my seat back, stretching my legs. "With the way that nigga was touching you, it seemed like he was more interested in what's under yo’ dress than a fucking business proposal."
"Oh my God," she said, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. "You are unbelievable. You know what? You don't get to play the role of jealous boyfriend when you won't even commit to being my man!"
There it was the real issue between us. Last week she asked where we stood, if we were exclusive, and I had brushed her off.
Truth was, I didn't know what to tell her.
Lizzy wasn't like other women I'd been with.
She was ambitious, independent, beautiful inside and out.
She challenged me, made me feel things I usually kept locked down tight. And that scared the shit out of me.
"I don't like seeing other niggas' hands on you," I said finally, staring out the window as Chicago's skyline blurred past. "That's all."
"That's all?" she repeated in disbelief, taking a sharp turn that made me grab the door handle.
"You punched a nigga unconscious in a fucking club, you’re probably just cost me a major business deal, and all you can say is you don't like seeing other men touch me? Why the hell should you even give a fuck when you’ve made it clear I'm just someone you're fucking? "
Her words hit like bullets, "I never said that."
"You didn't have to! Your actions said it for you," she fired back, angry tears forming in her eyes.
"One day you're blowing up my phone, bringing me gifts, making me feel special.
Next day you're cold, distant, acting like I barely exist. Then you pull this caveman shit tonight? Which Yatta am I supposed to believe?"
I remained silent as she navigated through downtown traffic toward her high-rise condo on the lake. What could I say? She wasn't wrong. I had been playing both sides. I’ve been keeping her close but not too close, wanting her but afraid to need her.
In my world, caring too much was dangerous. Shit made you vulnerable and weak. But watching her with another man had awakened something in me that I couldn't control.
By the time we pulled into her building's underground garage, the silence between us was thick enough to choke on. We rode the elevator to the 28th floor without speaking, her standing as far from me as the small space allowed, arms crossed over her chest.
Inside her immaculate condo, with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan, she kicked off her heels and headed straight for the bar, pouring herself a generous glass of DUSSE.
"You want one?" she asked, her first words since the car.
I nodded, shrugging off my blazer and draping it over one of her white leather bar stools. She handed me a glass, our fingers brushing.
She took a long sip, then set her glass down with a sharp clink.
"Why are you here, Yatta? What do you want from me?"
I downed my drink in one go, welcoming the burn. "Fuck you mean why am I here? You know what I want, and that’s you. I thought that was obvious."
"For how long? Tonight? This week? Until you get bored or scared of feeling something real?"
I moved closer to her, backing her against the counter. "I ain’t scared of shit that involves us,"
"Bullshit," she whispered, looking up at me defiantly. "You're terrified. Of this. Of us. Of anything you can't control with money or muscle."
I placed my hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. "You don't know what you talking about."
"Don't I?" she challenged, her chest rising and falling rapidly.