Chapter 39
The Stash House Kitchen
A full week had bled away since the tense lunch with Junie and Mercedes.
The air inside Clo’s primary stash house was thick with the sharp, chemical tang of drying product and cheap vanilla air freshener.
I stood over the stainless steel pot, the heavy wooden spoon moving in slow, rhythmic circles as I cooked the work exactly the way Clo had drilled into my head a million times over.
Around the kitchen island, Clo, Silk, and Rizz leaned back against the counters, watching the process with professional appreciation. Both crews were running low on hard, and Don had designated this exact location as neutral ground for a high-stakes strategy meeting.
"Tammy is in there whipping that work like she think she me or something," Clo teased, flashing a quick wink in my direction.
I didn't break my rhythm, just shot him a sharp, playful bird with my middle finger without missing a beat.
Silk chuckled, crossing his arms. "Nah, I ain't gon' lie, Clo. Your cook has always been top-tier. But whatever Tammy’s been mixing into this batch? It’s definitely moving differently. Cleaner."
"I ain’t gon' lie either," Rizz chimed in, eyeing the hardening brick on the wax paper. "This is the fastest I’ve ever sold a batch. Damn, Tammy, what are you putting in that Clo isn't?"
Clo raised an eyebrow, feigning offense as he leaned over the counter. "Baby, what are we gotta pay you to keep you exclusively cooking for our side?"
I laughed, tossing my head back. "Boy, what? You're not about to insult my baby's empire."
"Nah, for real, suh," Rizz said, his tone shifting to genuine respect. "You know I love my brother. But your stuff is amazing, and honestly, I think he should let you keep running the kitchen."
Clo straightened up, pushing off the counter, and walked over to sit on a stool dead center between Silk and Rizz. The lighthearted teasing evaporated, replaced by the heavy, calculated energy of men who controlled entire sectors of the city.
"I don't mind letting her cook if it's what's best for the empire," Clo said, his gaze sweeping over his lieutenants. "What I can't have, though, is my top-selling men beefing under my nose."
Rizz frowned, tilting his head. "I thought Rio was your best seller."
"Nigga's been tripping lately," Clo muttered, shaking his head. "I don't know what the fuck he's got going on in his personal life. I've just been letting him and Trent cop directly from Don since they know how to cook their own work anyway. But that's beside the point."
Rizz , who had been leaning quietly against the doorframe, smirked.
"I don’t have a problem with him at all. I don’t even know him personally. He just always has some slick shit to say. I’m a grown man; I’m not out here looking to scrap over ego. You never really know what the next man is going through behind closed doors."
"That’s the exact problem," Clo cut in, pointing a finger at them.
"I need y'all to have a bulletproof business relationship. Y'all are basically my right and left-hand men. Trent and Mario don't cop through me directly—they go through Don because he’s the primary connect, and Don’s cool with half up-front, half later. But when y’all come correct and work together?
Y'all would do numbers that make kings look like paupers."
I stayed quiet, sliding into the background the way a smart woman does in a room full of dangerous, heavily armed men. I watched my king with a quiet surge of pride; Clo was trying to heal the fractures in his own foundation before the streets tore them apart.
Silk cracked a slow, easy smile, pushing off the counter and extending a hand. "I don't have beef with him. I have said some fucked-up shit in the past, and I own that—it's something I gotta fix. But I respect your work ethic, Rizz. I think we’d make an amazing team."
Rizz grinned back, taking Silk's hand and gripping it firm. "Let's make it happen."
Clo laughed, leaning back. "Y'all are gonna make a killer team. Hell, you probably have a lot more in common than you think. For starters, we already know y'all got the exact same expensive taste in women."
The entire room erupted into laughter, the heavy tension finally breaking.
"So, what y’all getting into tonight?" Clo asked, checking the gold watch on his wrist.
"I’m letting Selma run my hoe house," Silk said, grabbing his jacket. "The trap has been beating all week, especially since it's a Friday and the first of the month."
"I gotta go manage my spot," Silk added. "Dream said she’s been sick, couldn't come out tonight."
"Damn, I’m gonna swing by and check on her right after I leave here," Silk offered.
"Well, I guess I'm gonna pop out to your spot, Rizz," Clo smirked. "My workers know I run a strict program, though. I don’t even have to babysit."
Rizz shot him a steady, unblinking glare, his posture tightening.
"You're right. I’ll keep that in mind." There was a silent, razor-thin edge to Rizz's look—a reminder that he wasn't a man to be tested, especially when it came to his lady, Mercedes.
You could tell just by the way he carried his shoulders that he’d lay a nigga out in the dirt without a second thought. I respected the hell out of it.
Spades and a Midnight Call
Once the work had cooled and hardened into dense, perfect bricks, we broke out a deck of cards.
Clo and I paired up as a team against Silk and Rizz to help the two lieutenants get used to strategizing together.
The game was fierce—they won a good chunk of the rounds, keeping us neck-and-neck until the early hours of the morning.
When exhaustion finally caught up to us, I finished weighing out the hard, vacuum-sealing the packages and organizing the stash. While the men retreated to the heavy leather couches and poker table in the man cave, I slipped down the hall into the bedroom to decompress.
My phone lit up on the nightstand, flashing Junie's face across the screen on FaceTime. I swiped to answer immediately.
"Hello, girl," I whispered, propping the phone up against a pillow.
"Hey," Junie's voice came through, high-pitched and strained. "What are you doing? Is anyone around you?"
"No, my man is locked in the man cave entertaining his guys."
"I was just calling to let you know... I’m breaking things off with Mario first thing in the morning," she breathed out, the words tumbling together.
I sat up on the edge of the mattress, my curiosity instantly peaking. Everyone in our circle knew Junie and Don were a mismatched puzzle, but Junie needed a specific kind of dominance that Don had lost the stomach for. "How do you even feel about that?" I asked gently.
"It don’t matter how I feel," she choked out, her voice suddenly cracking. "Feelings ain’t gonna get me the life I want."
Before I could press her further, the heavy shuffle of footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"You alright in there, baby?" Don's voice boomed right outside the bedroom door.
"I’m alright, Don, damn! Just give me a moment, I told you I needed to breathe!" Junie snapped back at him through the screen, quick-thinking as she propped the phone up so it only showed the ceiling while Don walked away.
"I was just calling to let you know it's done," she whispered frantically back to me.
Before I could answer, the line went dead. The call disconnected with a sharp click, leaving me sitting alone in the dim bedroom, wondering just how much explosive fallout was going to hit the streets when the sun came up.