Amaris
I ignored Keisha’s worrisome ass and placed my eyes on the new stack of inventory that was brought in last night.
I rolled my eyes and tried to count the stack of boxes with my eyes.
“Girl, if you don’t stop pretending you ain’t hear me talking to you—”
“I heard you,” I said, stacking bottles of Hennessy onto the metal shelf behind me without even looking up. “I just wasn’t agreeing.” I shrugged my shoulders, tossing my sister locs behind my shoulder.
“We were having a great conversation until you started talking about some other shit that I clearly don’t want to hear,” I continued, rolling my eyes.
It was the same shit her and my dad constantly nagged me about.
“You need a man.” Keisha gave me a pointed look.
She planted both hands on her hips like she was about to physically rearrange my life. I hated when people told me what I needed instead of asking.
“I need inventory counted.” I raised both brows in her direction then reached down carefully for more bottles.
Suddenly, I wanted a shot of the cognac to ease some of my anxiety.
“You need sex,” Keisha pressed on.
“Keisha,” I warned.
“No,” she said, pointing a finger at me accusingly. “Don’t Keisha me.” She rolled her eyes hard.
“You been walking around this bar stressed, serious, and fine for no reason too long. It’s Fall. You moody, tired, and living at home, still worrying about your daddy like you his accountant and life coach instead of his daughter.”
I stopped tending to the bottles of Hennessy to place my eyes on Keisha. If we hadn’t grown so close over the past eight years due to her on and off situationship with my dad, I would have cursed her out. I looked into Keisha’s hazel green, cat eyes and frowned.
“I manage his business,” I corrected her.
“You manage that niggas stress,” she shot back. “That’s not the same thing. You twenty-seven years old, Mari,” she stressed with sadness locked into her eyes. “You need to live more, go on dates, and experience some shit outside of businesses.”
Okay, this is getting a little too deep…
I swallowed down the lump in my throat because the truth always hurt. I should have been doing more and even living more like Keisha suggested. Instead, I remained a daddy’s girl through and through, loyal by default because he had no one else to trust except me.
I detached my emotions from the conversation how Jeremiah Reed, my father, taught me best and rolled my eyes. I reached for the next case of liquor then used my box cutter to split it open down the middle.
“You doing too much,” I uttered lowly.
“I’m doing exactly enough,” she said. “Matter fact, as your bestie boo… I already lined some shit up for us.”
My hand paused mid-lift. Keisha was on some bullshit once again; she never ceased to amaze me.
Or maybe…she could be put in place by Dad to keep my mind off the sneaky shit he’s been up to… I blinked away my thoughts. I couldn’t help how low my trust was for others.
“What you lined up, Kee?” I tried my hardest to make my voice sound neutral.
I could feel my annoyance getting ready to make a delightful appearance; the next step would be me cursing Keisha the hell out.
“A double date.” She smiled proudly.
“No,” I said flatly.
“Yesssss!” Keisha whined.
“No,” I repeated, hoping she left the shit alone.
“You ain’t even hear me out on the details,” she argued.
“Keisha, I don’t need the fuckin’ details!” My voice elevated.
“I don’t like older men like you do. I’m not in need of a sugar daddy. I don’t want a nigga to fly me out and to show me how seasoned he is!” I snapped.
Instantly, I knew I probably said too much.
An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I withheld because my words were the truth.
I loved Keisha a lot, but we were total opposites.
She had daddy issues while I had mommy abandonment issues.
My dad made sure I wanted for nothing; he spoiled me rotten and made the time despite his kingpin status in the streets.
Keisha never knew her parents. She was born in the system and raised by fucked up foster parents. She lived her life in survival mode up until she met my dad. He toyed with her heart and used giving her money and expensive gifts as a method to control her.
I believed that my dad loved Keisha in his own fucked up way.
He just didn’t love her enough to make her a priority.
He didn’t chase or beg Keisha for shit. Dad didn’t give a damn who Keisha laid with outside of him, as long as she became available whenever he called for her.
Keisha was thirty-four years old and beyond beautiful.
Sometimes I wished she saw what I saw whenever I looked into her beautiful hazel eyes.
“Damn, bitch, tell me how your mean ass really feel. That’s why I’m like the only friend you got,” she spat back, trying to hide her emotions.
“And I love you lots, thank you for sticking it out with me.” I cooed faintly to lessen the sting of my words.
“He’s a tall salt and pepper, suit and tie ass nigga. He walks like he got a big—”
“Keisha, no means no.”
“They got jobs.” She ignored my no.
“No,” I repeated again.
“They own property.” She smirked.
“Still no.”
“They not weird.” She frowned.
“That’s suspicious already.” I rolled my eyes.
Keisha’s laugh bounced off the stockroom walls.
“You are so dramatic.” She giggled.
“I’m busy,” I retorted.
“More like you lonely.” Her giggle turned into a dry laugh.
“I’m peaceful,” I stated proudly.
“You stressed.” She shrugged both shoulders.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’m responsible.”
“And sexually frustrated,” she added for great measure, further pissing me off.
I gritted my teeth and just stared at her hard.
“Keisha,” I warned.
“What?!” She squealed loudly, stomping her feet.
“You need to get laid! It’s been too long, and it shows every day…always snappy around this bitch and uptight like ya panties permanently keistered up that big ass donkey booty.”
I almost dropped the bottle in my hand.
“I swear you are insane…I’m not about to sit here and discuss my pussy with you.” I set the bottle on the bottom shelf then leaned my elbow against it, facing Keisha all the way now.
“I’m just being honest. I know you don’t want to hear this—”
“Then don’t say it, you already working my nerves in this stuffy ass room when you supposed to be helping me put up all this shit.” I cut her off.
“Fuck it.” She waved her hand like she was done with the conversation which pleased me.
“I’m gon’ say the shit anyway,” she continued.
I shut my eyes and counted down from five because I knew Keisha was about to say some shit that would most likely make my stomach churn.
“You were lighter on your feet when you were entertaining Derrick three years ago… Obviously he was laying good pipe and making you feel—”
“First of all, I did the fucking with Derrick.” I cut her off again.
“His dick was decent, and I got to cum whenever I was in control of things. Second, he didn’t make me feel shit but regret, I keep telling you to stop bringing that nigga up, he’s the past for a damn reason.”
I could visibly see Keisha recoil at my hissed-out words.
“Don’t let no man show or tell you more than once that he doesn’t want you how you want him.” I snapped my fingers, hoping to snap some sense into her dick-crazed ass.
“I don’t give a fuck if that man is my dad or the mutha fuckin’ president,” I snapped.
“I say all this to say, mind your pussy and not mines, Keish. I’m not about to go sit across from some stranger pretending I care about what gym he go to…
I’m not interested in no nigga right now,” I clarified so she could let it go.
Every other week she had something to say about either my sex life or just dating in general. I never brought up her fucked up situationships unless she pressed me about what I did outside of working and hanging out with her.
“You ain’t gotta pretend nothing.” She stepped up next to me to pick up a bottle. “Just show up cute to the date and let him admire the architecture.” She smiled that big pretty smile that could light up a dark room.
Keisha was beyond beautiful inside out, even when she was being a nag like now.
“The architecture?” I raised both brows.
Keisha giggled and placed the bottle on the shelf then stepped back. She waved her hand at my body like she was presenting something to the empty room.
“Yes. That right there? Is structural excellence…while criminal you wasting it worrying about Jeremiah Reed, aka Maniac’s late night phone calls.” She rolled her eyes hard at the mention of my dad.
That made me pause and realize how much I had been talking her ears off about my suspicions of my dad lately. That nigga was up to some shit, and I wanted to know what it was. There was no secret that my dad was one of the biggest Kingpin’s in Southern California.
Often times, he got bored since he was one of the main suppliers basically making a cut off of anything that moved with his permission. Maniac becoming bored with his Kingpin status was never a good thing in my eyes. Lately, something had changed with him.
He beefed up on security and been having more private meetings that seemed unusual.
“I’m not wasting nothing,” I said calmly.
“You’re worrying hard about him again,” she corrected. “And worrying ain’t living, Mari.”
“I’m fine.” I quickly turned away from her to take in a much-needed deep breath.
“You lying your ass off”
“I’m working, Keish.” I swiped my hand across the shelf as I listened to the sound of her picking up more bottles.
“Sounds like hiding to me,” she mumbled.
“No hiding, just managing.” I shrugged.
“More like avoiding.”
I opened my mouth to respond when the stockroom door flew open so hard it smacked the wall behind it. Quickly, I turned to the sudden intrusion.
Tasha stood there breathing like she ran from the front of the building without stopping. Her big beady eyes were wide, too wide. Not drama wide or customer problem wide. It was fear wide.
“Amaris.” Her voice shook.
“What happened?” I asked immediately, preparing for the worse.