Chapter 23 #2
After applying her mascara, she cleaned up the counter, unpinned her curls and spritzed her perfume. Center of her chest, behind her neck, inner arms, thighs, wrists, and ankles. She rolled her eyes at herself. “Like any of that mattered for anyone other than yourself.”
She dressed in a pair of light-washed jeans, a heavy, weighted-cotton fitted hoodie, and a designer varsity jacket.
Reign studied the outfit in the full-length mirror and nodded.
“It’s only for yourself. You look good, girl.
Now you’ve got to gain some weight back.
Which shouldn’t be hard since you’re being stuffed with food every six hours. ”
Reign smirked, tousled her curls, and grabbed a pair of sneakers out of the box.
The amount of clothes Markus had delivered for her was absurd.
The ten bags from Aunt G’s boutique were obsessive, but this closet full of clothes, unheard of.
Shoes in hand, she jogged down the stairs.
Markus was fully dressed again, standing in front of the window with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Did we get them?” he asked whoever he was talking to.
“Bet. I don’t want those houses touched until after we handle that business.
That whole side of town looks like shit.
Twelve is expecting them to be traps. I’d rather not give them niggas any ideas…
yeah, just leave ‘em empty…nah, I’m headed up to Mercer Grove.
I need to check in on the store and handle some other shit…
nigga, fuck you.” He laughed. “I owe your ass a band, too. Don’t say shit else to me.
Bet, I’ll check in when I’m back later. Aight. ”
He hung up and inhaled deeply before turning around, finding Reign sitting on the ottoman putting her sneakers on.
“Will this do?” she posed, hair cascading over her face, blocking her view of his ogle.
He didn’t answer immediately, so she lifted her head to find him taking slow, deep breaths and just…
looking. “Do I need to change? Are you having a stroke or something? I’m only twenty-six, I don’t know the signs of a stroke for real. ”
Markus frowned slightly. “How old do you think I am?”
She shrugged. “Old.”
“Girl,” he grumbled. “Twenty-nine and I’m not having no damn stroke. I’m just…”
She raised her brows. “Just…”
“What is that scent?” he asked, as if it was going to drive him mad.
“Uh…citrus, jasmine, amber, and musk.”
He palmed his face. “You trying to kill me, huh?”
“Are you allergic or something?”
“To keepin’ my hands off of you, yes,” he admitted.
Her lips wiggled into a small smile, but she nipped her lip to stop it from spreading fully across her face. “You need to practice your self-control, then. Are you ready?”
“We got to swing by my spot. I wasn’t thinking you were actually going to let me stay. Could have sworn I was going to be sleeping in my truck until you walked your pretty ass out in the morning.”
Reign rolled her eyes and stood. “Come on before I change my mind and go back to sleep.”
“Then we just gon’ be on the couch sleep. You’re not threatening me, Speechless.”
“Come on, crazy,” Reign huffed, walking out the door, snapping her crossbody bag holding her license, phone, and the money she attempted to pay Nia with. Markus had put it right back in her purse this morning when she was still asleep.
She jogged down the stairs toward the truck and touched the passenger door.
“Why you playing with me?” he grumbled from behind her. He gently knocked her hand away and opened the door.
The ride to Markus’ spot was quiet. Reign read the texts from Nia about the codes for the new salon and forwarded her applications since Markus had fired her starting staff.
Markus focused on the road, enjoying the fall morning.
Thanksgiving was approaching, which meant he’d have to break bread with his cousins.
The idea alone made him grind his teeth.
“You’re grinding your teeth. What is it?”
“I’m not grinding my teeth.”
Reign dropped her phone in her lap and looked over at him. “You’re grinding your teeth. You do it in your sleep, too, by the way. Don’t know if anyone ever told you that.”
He shifted and relaxed into the seat. “Actually, no. No one has. Let me find out you care.”
“There you go. Grind your teeth, have a headache, I don’t care.”
“You do, and that’s okay. Ain’t shit wrong with caring for a nigga.”
“Mmhmm. So what is it?” Reign circled back to her original question.
Markus licked his dry lips, and Reign couldn’t help but stare, her mind vividly reminding her of what his lips felt like against hers. How his tongue sucked and swiped over hers. She shifted in her seat, looking down to make sure she didn’t hit the seat warmer when she got in.
“Thanksgiving is at my Aunt Lucille’s, like it is every year, and I’m not really looking forward to seeing my cousins. We got some static right now. Their egos are bruised, I’m fuckin’ furious with them, and I’m not trying to have another repeat of dinner at Nia’s.”
Reign winced. “That was intense.”
She wasn’t going to say anything about Cyn’s phone conversation.
Partially because she really didn’t know who she was talking to on the phone.
What she knew was that it seemed sketchy.
It could have very well been how she viewed Cyn.
Since their first interaction, it was clear the two would never see eye-to-eye.
Reign was okay with that. As long as Cyn kept her smart comments to herself, she wouldn’t have anything to worry about.
“That was some bullshit, is what it was.” Markus huffed. “I’m still lowkey pissed that I couldn’t finish that alfredo.”
Reign chuckled. “I can make that in my sleep.”
“Where it at then?”
“You didn’t ask. You don’t ask, you don’t get. It’s that simple.”
Markus took his eyes off the road and looked at her. “It’s that easy, huh?”
“Don’t play with me,” Reign spoke with a soft snicker. “You might get some alfredo out of me, but that’s about it.”
“No, it ain’t, but lie to yourself, Speechless.”
Reign curled her lip.
“So I’m assuming I’m getting alfredo tonight?”
“When you assume you make an ass out of you and me,” she sassed. “But I suppose since there’s more clothes in my closet than I know what to do with and three rolls of cash in my purse, I could make you a funky little pot of alfredo.”
“If you’re not going to make it with love, I don’t want it.”
“Then I guess you’re not getting none.”
“Nah, I’ma get some. One way or another,” he muttered, earning a tap of the back of her hand against his arm.
“Ah! Shit!”
Reign covered her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry.”
Markus’ fake scowl turned into a laugh. “Gotcha. That Motrin you got is amazing. I don’t feel shit for real. Just some soreness.”
“You get on my damn nerves,” she huffed, turning to look out the window.
At his house, Reign stood in the foyer, taking it all in. It was spacious and beautifully decorated, but it was cold. It was lonely. It wasn’t a home.
“You want a tour?” he asked, picking up the liquor bottle off the coffee table and putting it away.
“I’m not going to be over here after this, so probably not necessary. You’re not running game on me,” Reign quipped. “Let me show you around, and then somehow we never end up leaving. Nope, hurry up.”
Markus laughed. “There’s doorknobs and shit that’s different from your spot.”
“Emilliano, go get dressed.” Reign couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned on the wall.
“You can sit down.”
“Nah, you probably got women in and out of here. I’m not trying to ruin my nice clothes I just got.”
He cut her a look and headed to his bedroom. “I don’t have women in and out of here.”
“The tube of lip gloss says different, but go off,” Reign called back, looking at the random heel in the corner, lip gloss on the table next to an earring.
Spiteful placement, more than likely by an ex.
None of it fazed her because she wouldn’t be moving in or creating expectations that made it easy for him to let her down.
Almost twenty minutes later, Markus was back downstairs in gray cargo pants, Ameechii sweatshirt, fitted cap, fresh Timbs on his feet, and of course, his gun reloaded and placed in its signature spot.
Half-naked or fully dressed, uncut or fresh cut, the man was gorgeous, and he knew it. It was telling in the way he offered a lopsided grin. “Does this match your fly, or do I need to change?”
“It’ll do,” Reign muttered, turning away, her nose still enticed by his scent. “Going to tell me where we’re going?”
“For starters, we’ll hit Mercer Grove for the street food fest. Then I’m going to teach you how to shoot. If you’re going to be running the salon, you need to be able to handle some shit in the event I’m not around to do it.”
“I have to keep a gun on me?”
“Ideally.”
“Okay, make sure I don’t know how to use it too good. The way you like to break in, I might use it on you.”
“Never that.”
Side by side, they tried various dishes from the food truck vendors, grabbed fresh fruits and vegetables from the farmers, and pastries. From there, they stopped by an empty shop, dusty from the repairs.
“What are you going to do with this?” Reign questioned.
“Maybe another boutique. Not sure yet.”
“I think, if it counts, it can be used for a lounge. Something upscale. A cash business if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Markus looked over at her. “If all goes well by next month, I’ll be the biggest distributor in the north. So yeah, that’s what I’m looking for.”
“Cash businesses would be your way to go. It’s just this building?”
“Acquiring more in the city. Let me find out you know something about business planning?”
She gave him a weary smile. “I was sixteen and on my own, I had to figure some things out.”
“Noted. Come on, let me teach you how to shoot.”