Episode| VI
The commotion was calming down, and the main room was beginning to empty.
People said their goodbyes, while a few stayed behind to talk business with Block and Basket.
There was never trash left behind—no beer cans or liquor bottles scattered around.
Block may be rough, but he has respect for women.
No one left the mess for Christie and Honey to clean up.
They tidied the kitchen of their own accord.
Christie didn’t mind—she liked taking care of Basket, as she did at her own house.
She cooked for him while Honey lounged, still lost in her teenage world of games and parties.
Honey was only 19, and Basket had been trying to pull her out of that phase.
Outside, laughter and conversation echoed in the cool night air.
Some members were drunk, needing designated drivers, while others lingered as they usually did.
The wind stirred the trees, making them sway as if they were dancing along with the crowd.
The stars scattered across the sky like tiny fireflies, with the occasional rare shooting star streaking past. Car headlights blinked on, one by one, as if flicking on light switches.
Doors slammed as the last bits of excitement outside began to fade.
Block closed the door behind him, talking quietly with Darian, one of his soldiers, as they discussed plans for the next mission. Darian gave him a respectful dap before heading down the hall to the other side of the mansion. Basket approached Block with a glass of Pinot in hand.
"Here. This is the last bottle of red wine. Take a seat with me," Basket said.
Block raised an eyebrow, gesturing for his brother to sit first. "Why do you want to talk, Basket? What's on your mind?"
Basket glanced over at Ayana, who was sitting in a chair near the kitchen.
Block turned, following his brother’s gaze.
Ayana sat with her head down, staring at the floor.
She was dressed in a white t-shirt with a blue Nike logo and galaxy-patterned tights.
If you looked closely, it was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Something made her lift her head, and she met Block’s eyes before quickly shifting in her seat.
Her hands moved to her lap, and she straightened her posture.
She swallowed, feeling her throat tighten as if it were full of sand, then coughed three times, trying to clear it.
Christie emerged from the kitchen, handing Ayana a glass of water. She glanced at Basket, who shot her an irritated look. Rolling her eyes, Christie asked Ayana if she wanted to join Honey in the living room. Ayana stood up and followed her out of the room.
Block chuckled and turned back to Basket. “Did you two have a fight?”
Basket scoffed. “She doesn’t know how to mind her own business, that’s all. Always trying to save any woman she thinks is in distress.”
Block took a sip of his wine. “So, what is it you want to discuss?”
He already suspected it was about Ayana.
“I’m concerned for your safety, Block. I don’t trust her.”
Block set his glass down on the maple table, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his hands together.
“I recall a certain someone you found—no, I should say kidnapped. You refused to let her go. I told you to drop her ass off somewhere, but you wouldn’t listen. I get what you’re saying, Basket, but I can take care of myself.”
Basket downed the rest of his wine in one gulp, setting his empty glass beside Block’s. Block picked up his glass, finished the remaining wine, and stood.
“She’ll learn, Basket,” Block said, his voice lowering with finality, “or she’ll rest with her brother.”
Basket stood up as well, his face tight with concern. “If she even thinks about laying a hand on you the wrong way, I’ll put her down.”
Block embraced his brother. “I expect nothing less.” He lifted the wine bottle. “Do you want the rest of this?”
Basket shook his head, knowing exactly why Block wanted the wine.
“Be careful,” Basket said. “She seems inexperienced in a lot of things.”
Block chuckled. “I told you, she’ll learn.” He grabbed the bottle and walked off.
Basket watched him go, then turned his attention toward Christie. He strode quietly into the kitchen, letting his fingertips trail across the marble countertop. The citrusy scent of cleaning products hung in the air. She cleans well, he thought, and that’s attractive.
“I told you we needed to talk, didn’t I?” he said, his voice low.
Christie’s head turned slowly, as if she’d just heard something she wasn’t supposed to.
?