GOOD LIFE #2
The next morning, when Alonzo stirred, he was surprised to find Giselle at his side, IV stand beside her in that dingy ass hospital gown.
Slumped to one side in a wheelchair with her head resting against her hand, she snored lightly.
Although painful, he managed to clear his throat.
The noise was enough to cause her to stir.
She shifted gradually before a lazy grin captured her face.
“Hey,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his head. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a forklift.” Alonzo grunted, gripping his stomach.
“Yeah. Well, the doctors said you’re going to be okay. There was some swelling in your spine, and you had some internal bleeding in your brain, but they were able to fix it. You’re going to be okay.” She smiled lazily.
“And how are you doing?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
“I… according to the doctor… I’m kind of pregnant,” she revealed, unable to hold it in much longer. “Six weeks pregnant.”
Both of his brows hiked in surprise, and he shifted against his pillow.
Six weeks meant there was no way this baby was his.
Something flickered through his gaze as he stumbled on that fork in the road.
Giselle being pregnant changed everything, but at the same time, it all fit for his image.
He didn’t care what she had going on before them.
As far as he was concerned, it was them against the world.
Drowning in guilt, Giselle anxiously awaited his response.
“We’re both still here, G.” He gripped her hand tighter, forcing her exhausted eyes to his. “Whatever it takes, I’ll be here. For you. For him or her.” His gaze shifted to her belly.
“Are you sure about this?” She quickly swiped a tear that had slipped past her cheek.
“Consider me locked in,” Alonzo declared, bringing her in for a soft kiss.
Clinging to his words, Giselle reacted in the moment, thinking it was the right thing.
Her gut screamed in protest, and she knew it was purely selfish.
She needed something solid to believe in, and she didn’t give a damn who had something to say about it.
She’d been in limbo, unable to ground herself, until this.
Now she was out of places to run, and for the first time in her life, it wasn’t just about her.
Almost four years later…
Frenzy was one of the hottest spots in town, thanks to Maisie and Crew.
The club had its grand opening exactly one year ago, so the whole city of Southwick was out celebrating the monumental event.
There weren’t a lot of places to party, and a lot of the older locals were concerned about a club opening in the middle of town.
Heavy and Crew made sure security was tight.
Not only for everyone who visited, but for Maisie and her staff, too.
The place brought in people from outside the city limits since they hosted rap battles and had occasional celebrity visits.
Too Short’s “I Stay Up” blared through the speakers of Heavy’s G-wagon as the club came into view ahead.
He and Viggo planned to make an appearance tonight for more than one reason.
The game had changed for Heavy, and his flex was real, yet subtle.
Now that he was also in business with Maisie and Crew, they were flooding the city with the best weed, THC, CBD, and other cannabis products Maisie put together.
With Kansas not being a legal state, they had to be creative with their distribution, funneling product through the surplus auto stores that Heavy’s family owned.
Maisie opened a hookah lounge and cafe with an attached bookstore along with this club, all fronts for their operation.
Between the three of them, they were clearing at least a million per month.
Naturally, with the money came the bullshit, and it seemed someone was always testing Heavy.
He’d brought Viggo in to help run things, and that nigga could find trouble in church.
He was being greedy, still moving heroin with his crew on top of all the product Maisie produced.
Not only that, but he was fucking around with the sister of some nigga they called Oz, and apparently, he was the ringleader and didn’t play about his family.
“This muhfucka is jumping!” Viggo rolled his window down with the blunt dangling off his lips.
Heavy whipped through the parking lot and slid into the space beside Maisie’s red BMW. The line to get in was wrapped around the building, but he was sure they’d have no problem. Heavy shut his car off and got a call almost immediately.
“What’s up, Pri?” He swiped to pick up and pushed the phone against his ear.
“Hey, me and Henna just got here. Where are you?”
“Over near the employee parking in the back. I’m next to Maisie’s car,” he advised.
“Okay. Oh, I see you.”
“Aight.” Heavy hung up, and Viggo passed the blunt to him.
“How is that going?” he pried, studying Heavy as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket.
“Shit is cool.” Heavy shrugged. “You know Pri is chill, easy to be with.”
“Fine as hell,” Viggo chimed in.
Heavy found himself in a situation with Prischa, although casual, it seemed to keep them both happy.
After some thought, he realized he didn’t want to lose his best friend, and if them being together could make her happy, he was willing to give it a try.
Both agreed not to cohabitate, but he spent the night at her house, and she and Pierre damn sure had their share of visits with him.
It wasn’t exclusive, but over time, they stopped entertaining other people.
The main thing was that they were able to remain friends and be there for Pierre as a united front.
When it came time for that family shit, holidays, birthdays, etc. , what they were creating came first.
Heavy would shut the world out for them if need be. Prischa got on him sometimes because the shops and the streets stayed calling, but he was building an empire and couldn’t be stopped. She wanted him to relax, when every day, he was trying to figure out a new way to invest and make more money.
“My bad, cuz.” Viggo caught a dagger from Heavy’s stare and threw his hands up in surrender. “Just calling it how I see it, though. She be looking good, and she all professional and shit.” He licked his lips and chuckled when Heavy took a pull from the blunt and glared at him through the smoke.
He didn’t fuck around when it came to that girl, and Viggo knew it.
A light tap at his window had Heavy grabbing the pistol in his lap, only to find Prischa and Henna standing between his car and hers.
He hadn’t seen them pull up as he let his window down.
Prischa stuck her head in and stole a kiss.
“What y’all still sitting in the car for? Come on.”
“Finishing this blunt and talking shit.” Viggo grinned, admiring her in the pink mini dress hugging her titties and ass.
With a straight blunt cut bob style, and a glam beat matching her attire with a soft pink eye shadow and matching gloss on her full lips, Prischa was gorgeous.
“Just tell the bouncer I said let you in.” Heavy admired her pretty face and that body in her spandex.
There was no denying Prischa was a baddie any day of the week, but when she was ready to turn up, she held no restraint. She loved getting attention from men.
“Fine.” She exhaled and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Henna. I need a drink.” She reached for his sister’s wrist and pulled her along to the back entrance.
The two of them strutted off, and something else caught his eye when he glanced in his rearview mirror.
He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him for a minute, so he squinted to be sure.
The light skinned young lady strolled past his car with a few of her friends, laughing and joking around while bouncing and snapping to the bass coming from the club.
“Damn, ain’t that Maisie’s little cousin?”
“Gem,” Heavy noted.
Seeing her immediately reminded him of Giselle.
The older Gem got, the more she resembled her big sister.
He wouldn’t admit it to anybody, but that girl still crossed his mind regularly.
He wondered how she was doing, if she was happy, if she ever thought about him like that when she saw a bottle of Don Julio or had a flat tire.
She wasn’t someone you forgot, no matter how hard he tried.
Viggo pulled from his blunt and grabbed his door handle.
“Let’s go. Pri is right about one thing, a nigga need a drink.
” He planted his sneakers on the ground and hiked his regular fit jeans a little higher on his waist since he was sagging.
A diamond Cuban link hung from his neck against the Amiri t-shirt, and his locs were pulled up into a manbun.
Heavy piled out with him, hitting the lock button on his fob as they approached the doors.
With a nod to the bouncer, they were let right inside, and immediately, sweat, smoke, and liquor filled their nostrils.
Bobbing his head to the beat, Viggo nodded to a few hustlers and flashed his diamond-filled smile on the ladies eyeing him.
“Mais! Give us a couple bottles of Ace, mama!” Viggo slapped his hand against the counter at the bar.
Prischa, Henna, Lou, and Gem were all lined up on barstools, and Maisie moved behind the counter with Crew on her ass.
She owned the damn club, but it was natural to find her behind the bar.
She loved that shit, said it made her feel closer to the patrons.
She would flirt and get tips while Crew observed her from some corner, making sure nobody fucked with her in her element.