2. Warren ‘Wolf’ Bennett
WARREN ‘WOLF’ BENNETT
“Ya’ll niggas got about one more hour out of me before I get the fuck on. I’m out of my comfort zone right now. I don’t do this shit,” I said to my brothers, as I sat in a section with them, holding a cigar in my hands, after just taking a long pull from it.
“Out of your comfort zone how, nigga? They let us in with sticks. We in a section filled with niggas that’ll take anybody’s head off for even looking at us crazy.
Nigga, just vibe. They about to send out the baddest hoes in our section.
Man, wait until you lay eyes on Poison. Swear to God that’s the prettiest bitch that I’ve ever seen in my fuckin life,” that was my brother Kendrix.
Kendrix was the wild brother out of all of us.
The one that I felt lacked the most common sense.
The one that was always beefing with random niggas.
The one who’s unfortunately had to feel me put my foot in his ass on numerous occasions over the years.
I couldn’t stand a hot-headed ass man, and that’s exactly what my brother was.
I was younger than him, yet it was me that always had to check him about something.
“This nigga will see Poison, and still not think that she’s the prettiest bitch alive,” my other brother Kingston cracked.
Kingston was the oldest out of all of us.
He was 37 years old. The only brother that was married, and he had three children.
You would think that he would be home with his wife, and kids, but Kingston moved like he was a single man, just like the rest of us.
It wasn’t my story to tell, so I’ll just say that his ass commits so much adultery in his marriage, that I know for a fact he’s going straight to hell.
I ignored the commentary coming from my brothers, while I continued to sit back, and take in the views before me.
Even though this club shit really wasn’t my thing, I had to give credit where it was due and admit that the owner, Blue had him something big in here.
The space was nice. You could tell that a lot of money went into the remodeling.
I had a business of my own, so I knew what it looked like to step foot into another business, seeing the flooring, the lighting, TV screens, and all the other investments, to know that money was well spent.
I loved to see a nigga have a hustle. Loved to see a young nigga bring his vision to life and get rich off it. Kind of shit that kept me motivated.
“Look. Look. There she go right there. She walking over with her girl Honey, and I can’t think of the other two dancers name.
Poison is the one in the front. Walking on the left.
With the pink on. Shit!” Kendrix hit me on my arm, so that he could get my attention.
Because I was looking ahead of me, I had to turn my head, so that I could look at the woman that he was referring to.
She made it over to the velvet rope that led to our section.
The security raised the rope, so that the four of them could step into the section, and once she was close enough, and I got a better view of her, all I could say is that my brothers weren’t exaggerating from the fanned-out way that they were acting towards her.
Easily, the prettiest girl that I’ve ever seen in my life.
The body was banging! The face was something that should be put into a lab and studied.
Truly, her features were out of this world, but that was all that I had for her.
Beautiful girl, but I wasn’t willing to damn near sell my soul the way my brothers were carrying on.
I had nothing against strippers. I wasn’t looking down on anyone when it came to how they made their money.
As long as it didn’t involve doing fucked up shit to kids, killing innocent women, and things of that nature, then it was fair game.
Women were beautiful to me, and if a woman wanted to use her features, and her body to make a few dollars in the club, I wasn’t judging that.
At the same time, I’m such a cocky, selfish ass nigga, that I wouldn’t want what every other nigga is lusting after.
I wouldn’t want my brothers or other niggas knowing what my girls pussy and titties looked like.
I don’t mind niggas thinking that my girl was pretty, but to lust over her because you know what she looks like without clothes, I don’t think I could handle that shit.
I’ll be ready to take a niggas head off and have that shit sitting on his mama’s doorstep.
“She look good,” I let Kendrix know. When I was nonchalant in my response, he cocked his head to the side, looking at me like I was crazy. Kingston did the same thing.
“Nigga, that’s putting it mildly. I know it’s Marco birthday, but Ima call her over here so that she can give you a dance. You need it, with your uptight ass,” Kendrix stated.
“Man. I’m good. Tell her to give the dance to Demarco,” I let him know, but he’d already stood up from the couch, pulled up his jeans that were hanging off his waist a little bit, and headed over to the dancers that walked into the section.
As he was doing that, Demarco walked away from the railing, where he’d been standing with a few of his home boys, and came over with us. He slapped it up with me, taking the empty spot that was next to me.
“You good? Don’t it feel good to be outside?” he asked me.
I turned my head, laughing and shaking my head at my handsome ass brother.
I loved all my brothers the same, but Demarco was the one that I loved in a way like he came from me.
I think the love was so special because he was the only little brother that I had.
Both Kingston and Kendrix were older than me, but I was much more mature than them, so at times, I felt like I was the oldest, when I really wasn’t.
I was just three years older than Demarco, but you would think that I had him by at least 10 years because of the shit that I liked to instill in him. I was thirty, and Demarco just turned 27.
Even though Demarco was the baby, he didn’t have that stigma of being the younger, wild brother.
Did he fuck up from time to time? He did, but it wasn’t one of those situations where we looked at him as the family fuck up.
He’ll do his dirt, learn his lesson, and whatever fuck up he made, he wouldn’t engage in it for a second time.
It was Kendrix that would constantly fuck up and wouldn’t learn from his fuck ups.
I tell my mama all the time that she had to have been drinking while she was pregnant with him because it’s no way he turned out the way that he did.
“Nah man. I would rather be home, chilling right now. You probably the only man in the world that could get me to come to the club on a Monday. All the shit I got to do in the morning. I need to be home, resting,” I let him know, and with a smile on his face, he shook his head.
I wasn’t an outside kind of nigga. I took my ass to work and went home.
I had one friend, and three brothers. A lot of niggas knew me though, but there was only one person in this world that I considered to be a friend.
His name was Jamal. I’ve known him since we were in elementary school.
Jamal retired from the NFL because of an injury about three years ago, and now he works as an NFL broadcaster.
He was married with two kids. He lived a busy life just like I did, so we weren’t able to see and talk to each other every day, but we both knew it was heavy love for each other.
“I don’t understand you big bruh. You run the fuckin business, yet you move like you gotta make sure you’re on time every morning, or the manager going to dock your pay.
It’s a billion-dollar company over there that you running.
Business filled with staff, that can handle that shit without you being there.
The kind of money you making, what the fuck you need rest for? ” Demarco asked me.
“And the goal is to keep my billion-dollar company, nigga. It make sense to you for me to slack off, while my business continues to grow? I’m hands on with this shit. I don’t ever plan to slack off,” I let him know.
I owned Wolf’s Jewelers. I had two locations in Miami. My business was one of the biggest luxury jewelry companies out. I knew I was that nigga for real when niggas would fly in from all over the world, just to get custom pieces from me.
I’ve always had an infatuation with jewelry.
Me, and my brothers come from money, so growing up, my pops had us in Cuban’s since we were little boys.
He was the kind of pops that would buy us pricy time pieces to add to our collection.
That’s where my love for jewelry came into play.
Now, I was running my own shit, with a private showroom, an online operation that was booming, and the kind of clients that I had spending with me, I knew it’s some jewelers out there that’s willing to kill me for my clientele.
I was the only one in my family that was running my own business.
My brothers took over the family business.
The family business was Bennett Aviation Group.
It was the business that our pops was able to build on drug money.
Our pops put his time in the streets, made a shit load of money from being in the game, and eventually had to have that moment to sit down, and think about what the future had in store for him.
A lot of street niggas don’t get happily ever afters, neither do they get a chance to grow old, and enjoy the fruits of their labor.
My pops could have opened clubs, got into real estate, done all of the things that a lot of these retired dope boys have done over the years, but he didn’t.
He moved different, doing something that’s never really been done before.