Chapter 45
Bundles, Baddies, Birthdays
A couple of weeks had passed since all that bullshit went down.
It was Junie’s birthday, and me, her, and Mercedes were posted up getting our hair done.
Junie had finally convinced me to try forty-inch bundles for a fresh sew-in, while she went all out with fifty inches.
Since it was my first time ever getting a sew-in, I was really feeling myself.
Mercedes went with jet black hair laced with blonde highlights, Junie rocked a bone-straight, buss-down jet black, and I was stepping out in a rich honey blonde. We all looked incredible.
Once we finally rolled out of the salon, we hit up a high-end boutique. Mercedes dipped out early, saying she wasn’t dropping a bag since her man was just a regular hustler instead of a kingpin, plus she actually worked a normal nine-to-five. We offered to cover her piece, but she firmly refused.
"Oou, look at this!" Junie yelled suddenly, holding something up. "Bitch, and it’s your size!"
"I’m thick, girl, I ain't putting that tight-ass shit on," I shot back.
"They don’t even got my size left, please get it for me! You gone look so fire in it."
I grabbed the fit, and she immediately walked over and found the exact same one hanging in the back.
"Oou, looks like we matching tonight, too!"
I wasn't even surprised; me and Junie matching had been our thing since we were little kids running the block.
"Matching on your own birthday is kind of crazy," I laughed.
"Girl, I ain’t no hater, we look too good. We going to match on your birthday, too!"
"You're getting ready at my house, though—I got a makeup artist coming over tonight," she said as we piled back into the car.
When we finally got back to my house, I left Junie posted up at the kitchen bar and walked into the living room.
"Hey, my favorite granddaughter," Socorro yelled out from across the room.
"I heard that, Junie!" I yelled back, shaking my head with a smile as I headed upstairs.
When I pushed open the door to our room, Clo had just stepped out of the shower.
His hair was soaking wet, and those natural curls were popping hard.
He had a towel wrapped securely right under his signature v-line.
Looking at him, you could honestly swear God took extra time making a nigga like that.
"I already know you got company coming, so stop eye-fucking me before I throw you on this bed and fuck you right now," he said with a lazy, confident smile.
"Baby, no more silk presses until the wedding—I’m completely obsessed with your curls," I told him, biting my lip.
"That’s your only request?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Wear burgundy tonight," I requested, walking closer.
He stood right in front of me and slowly spun in a full 360-degree turn.
"These hair extensions got Junie's whole name written all over 'em. I don’t even know if I like you looking like this," he teased.
I stuck my tongue out playfully and dropped down to give him a quick little twerk.
"What Cardi said? Forty-inch weave, it be tickling my ass crack!" I yelled out laughing.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, a heavy smirk plastered across his face.
Just then, Junie walked right up to the room, but stopped dead in her tracks and turned around the second she saw Clo standing there in just a towel. She backed down to the bottom of the steps and shouted up, "The makeup artist is here!"
"Oh, so y'all on y'all bald-head ho-shit today?" Clo called out.
I sat down on the edge of the plush bed, crossed my legs, and looked him dead in the eye. "Real bad."
He busted out laughing. "All right, bae, get out my way. I’m 'bout to moisturize my hair, diffuse these curls, and then give myself a clean shape-up."
I got up, blew him a kiss, and walked out of the room as Clo shut the door behind me.
When I got back downstairs, Junie was already planted in the living room getting her eyebrows threaded and arched to perfection.
I figured old man Socorro must have retreated back to his own quarters.
I took a seat across from her and watched the makeup artist work magic on Junie's face.
Needing to take the edge off before the madness of the club started, I poured myself a generous glass of Chardonnay and sipped it slow.
Once Junie’s face was fully beat, I had already polished off a whole bottle of Chardonnay by myself.
"You ready, ma?" the makeup artist asked me, packing her brushes.
I nodded, sliding into the chair. She expertly arched my brows, rubbed a rich moisturizer into my skin, and went to work on my face. When she finally finished, I handed her a straight one-thousand-dollar stack for making both me and Junie look like absolute million bucks.
I took one final celebratory shot of tequila with Junie, then headed back upstairs to get dressed.
When I walked into the bedroom, my man looked immaculate.
His curls were sitting right, he had his heavy gold grill flashing, and three thick chains were layered across his chest.
He was rocking a rich burgundy Louis Vuitton button-down shirt paired with a matching LV belt, dark black denim, and pristine black Timbs.
"What did I tell your pretty ass about eye-fucking me?" he murmured, leaning against the dresser.
I didn't say a word, just flashed him a slow, sweet smile.
I slipped into the master bathroom and locked the door behind me so I could finally change into my fit.
I pulled on a tiny burgundy bralette top shimmering with clear rhinestones, featuring a bold metal hoop right in the center.
I paired it with a matching micro-miniskirt—so short and loaded with the same rhinestones and side-hoop detail that it rode high and showed off a whole lot of thigh.
I accessorized with a custom chain that boldly read CLO’S PROPERTY, matching silver bracelets on both arms, a sleek silver clutch, and stiletto sandal heels made entirely of glittering stones with classic red bottoms.
When I finally stepped back out of the bathroom, Clo was laying flat out across our bed with his brand-new shoes still on, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.
"You have officially lost your rabbit-ass mind. Get the fuck off my bed with those shoes on!" I snapped.
"Relax, ma, these ain't even been worn outside yet," he defended lazily.
"Take them off right now, Clover Hernandez," I yelled, putting my hands on my hips.
He finally looked up, and his whole expression shifted.
"Gold, we staying right the fuck in tonight, 'cause where are your actual clothes?"
he demanded, realizing just how wild my outfit was.
I knew right then that troublemaker Junie had gone way too far picking this specific fit out for me, but there was zero chance I was backing down now.
I was going outside tonight, looking like a absolute boss.
"Baby, listen, we 'bout to have a real good time tonight, stop tripping," I reasoned.
"Who would even let you buy that?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Oh, so now you're saying I'm fat!" I yelled back playfully, trying to completely throw him off his argument.
"Nah, baby, you look ridiculously good... but you're mine," he said softer, his tone dropping an octave.
"My chain literally says that. Keep it short," I said, turning on my heel and walking right out of the room.
Clo walked over to the door frame, watching me go, and called out that the private driver would be pulling up in fifteen minutes.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Junie was waiting, looking like an absolute vision in the exact same matching fit.
She looked a little thick and dangerous in that skirt.
She had a sleek black YSL bag, a heavy silver waist chain, a chunky diamond-cut Cuban link choker, and her deep-side-part fifty-inch weave sweeping down her back.
She finished the look with black lace-up heels that crawled all the way up her legs.
We knew for a fact we were out here showing our entire asses tonight, and we didn't care. I gave her a proud smile.
Right then, Clo came walking down the grand staircase behind us.
"Oh my god, Junie, you literally look like a professional stripper," he said dramatically.
Socorro popped his head out of the kitchen with an ice-cold Corona bottle in his hand.
"She ain't one?" he joked deadpan.
I grabbed Junie's hand, laughing, and pulled her toward the kitchen bar before anybody could ruin her birthday mood. We slammed down one more quick shot together.
"Don’t y’all see me with this bust down deep-wave thirty-inch? A bad bitch want to pregame, too," Clo joked, striking a ridiculous pose.
I laughed so hard my knees buckled and I literally fell straight back onto my ass on the floor.
"I’m starting to think you for real, Clo, 'cause why are you actually so pretty?" Junie bantered back.
"I’m more heart than any nigga you ever known. It ain’t my fault you look entirely too strong out here," he fired back effortlessly.
Suddenly, his encrypted phone started buzzing loudly on the counter.
"All right, cut the chatter, we on our way out," he announced, grabbing his keys.
We stepped out into the warm night air and piled into the back of the blacked-out luxury truck waiting in the drive. The radio was playing low, but the second we settled into the plush leather seats, Junie leaned up toward the front console and yelled, "Turn that shit all the way up!"
I immediately started singing right along with her to Latto, letting the heavy bass rattle my chest:
"That gangster shit, it turn me on / That .22 ain't gon' do, that 9, it get me out my thong, ah / Don't get me wrong, I'm a gangster bitch / But I tell bae, 'Go get the switch, you know he pull up spankin' shit!'"
Clo let out a deep, wicked laugh and leaned in, dragging his hot tongue slowly across the sensitive shell of my ear. My whole body instantly spiked with heat; I wanted him right then and there. I instinctively crossed my legs tight and quieted down just as Junie screamed out the window:
"Blick some, blick some, hit some, if you love me!"
Just like that, our tires crunched against the pavement as we pulled right up to the front of the club, and the entire block was already completely packed out.