Chapter 1 #2
She’d been back a short time. When she left Ree Heights, she was only five years old.
Being what her nautical parents named a drifter, Coast didn’t make many friends because she was never anywhere long enough to really do so.
Arwen knew this. She’d told this girl all kinds of shit about her life and bonded with her.
Allowing her to constantly cry about all the lame niggas she let in, then she turned around and betrayed her.
Being a good person was not for the weak in this world.
Pow!
Coast shot past Sipes after much thought, and his nose flared in anger. He bent over to grab his shirt off the floor.
“Next time, you better make sure you hit me.” He slipped his shirt over his head and eased his feet into his shoes beside the bed.
Coast’s hand trembled. Was this really what she wanted? She didn’t give it much thought as her finger pressed the trigger again.
Pow!
This time, she hit him right in the shoulder. She was no slouch when it came to using a firearm and never feared putting anybody down. Sipes crossed the line.
“Fuck!” he barked, pressing his hand against his wound and pushing himself off the wall he’d crashed into.
Disbelief clouded his eyes before a fiery rage flickered through them. Gritting his teeth, he inched toward Coast, and she backed up, keeping him in her crosshairs.
“Give me my fucking gun, Coast!” Sipes spat. “The fuck is wrong with you? This didn’t mean shit! I just fucked the girl! One time! You wasn’t even supposed to be here!”
This was his game. Narcissistic piece of shit.
Make her feel like this was her fault, and she wasn’t entitled to her reaction.
She was done. Tears slipped past her cheeks, and she had no idea why.
She didn’t love Sipes, not like that, but she considered Arwen a friend.
She was grieving that relationship more than anything.
Those were hard to come by in this world, and it only told Coast what she already knew.
People couldn’t be trusted. Somebody was always letting her down; it’s why she always bet on herself.
She was all she had. After this, she didn’t have anything left to give to anyone else.
“Get the fuck out!” Her tone was far too calm, which should have been a red flag. “You think I believe that shit?”
“Gimme my shit.” Sipes held his hand out for the weapon.
“I’ll mail it to you. You got more where this came from, right?” She tipped her head to the side.
Snatching his cell phone off the dresser, he immediately called someone and backed up.
She assumed it was his right hand, Fire, but she didn’t plan to be there when and if he decided to come back.
Sipes was a medium-level hustler, but he was connected to some grimy players in the city, Tommy Donahue being one of them.
Ruthless was a keyword in describing him.
Plenty of men in Ree Heights teetered on the line of good and bad, and men like Donahue only recruited the most callous.
“This shit ain’t over, Coast,” he grunted, still applying pressure to his shoulder and shooting daggers her way.
“That’s exactly what it is, Sipes.”
She followed him to the front, keeping a safe distance in case he tried some shit. With each step he grew weaker, and she didn’t give one fuck. When he got to the door, he let himself out and turned to her with a final glare.
“Remember one thing… when you came back here, nobody fucked with you. Muhfuckas showed you love because of me.” He aimed a finger at his chest. “You just burned your bridge, shorty. Don’t get comfortable around this bitch.”
Coast held his stare for a long moment before he slammed the door behind him.
Sighing shakily, she rushed to lock up before sprinting back into her bedroom so she could pack her things.
Sipes was right about one thing: people around here fucked with him.
He was connected because of Donahue and all the slanging he did.
People feared him because he had a reputation for being cutthroat.
She knew he had the power to turn people against her and cause problems.
There was only one place she could go now, and she dreaded it.
Snatching the duffel from under her bed, she emptied her drawers and went to clear her hygiene products from the bathroom.
She stepped over an unconscious Arwen on the floor.
Coast had no qualms about leaving her there.
As far as she was concerned, that bitch got off easy.
The two of them had her fucked up, but there was no way they were running her out of town.
Throwing her duffel strap over her shoulder, she stopped in the doorway and peered down at Arwen sprawled out.
Coast tucked the gun in the side compartment of her bag and yanked her keys from the pocket of her denim shorts.
She slid the key to the apartment off the ring and flung it toward Arwen before walking out.
The only reason she’d come home was to grab a change of clothes.
She’d been slinging food orders all night, and now she had to go out for a few hours and earn a little more, tending bar at Eclipse Lounge.
Her bills didn’t care that she was exhausted and fighting what she assumed was a stomach bug the way it was constantly flipping and turning on her today.
A few times, she’d even gotten dizzy, and she knew that was because she hadn’t been able to eat much lately.
She’d been living off water, Powerade, and crackers to try and settle her stomach.
The stress even had her period delayed, but she knew from the cramps and tender breasts that bitch was on the horizon.
One more issue since she turned into a damn demon on her cycle.
With more problems than solutions in that moment, she didn’t have time to sit and dwell on this situation.
The only thing she could do was figure out where she was going to stay when she ended her shift.
Beyonce’s “Cuff It” remix hummed over the sound system, causing the walls inside Luxe to vibrate with neon lights and smoke flickering through the atmosphere.
On stage, the current act slid down the pole, legs spread and spiraling slowly in nothing but a G-string.
In the back, tucked in a corner booth with a view of both exits, Mozzi Blackmoor sat with his brother and childhood homie, nothing but weed smoke filling their roped-off space.
Grabbing his glass, he brought the tequila to his lips and sipped, eyes on the slick body moving across the stage like she owned it.
Lin was a bad bitch. Not only that, but most knew her as his bitch.
Nah, they weren’t exclusive, but what was understood didn’t need to be explained between Mozzi and his women.
“Yo, tell Lin if she ever wants to get up out of here, I know a few bitches who would pay top dollar for her to teach them how to pole dance.” Brim, one of his oldest friends, wrapped his lips around the blunt he gripped between his fingertips and pulled.
“Little suburban housewives with nothing but their husbands’ bread to spend.
They’ll pay top dollar for that shit too. ”
Most men in his position would be insecure about their woman in a place like this, taking her clothes off for the whole city to see.
Mozzi didn’t look at it like that. Lin had a whole following.
She was one of the baddest bitches in the city.
On a good night, she could clean up and loved making her own money.
Type of bitch he liked. She was often even flown out and asked to promote clubs in Miami and LA.
It was wild for him to witness how she turned being a local stripper into a whole career.
The two of them meshed well together, and although she was just one of the women on his team, most people considered her his main bitch.
Nobody suited him like Lin. When it came to his lifestyle, she was easily the most compatible.
Mozzi was charismatic and inked in tattoos, with mesmerizing eyes.
Motherfuckers assumed he was a pretty boy, so growing up, he had to make an example out of niggas trying him.
“Pssh, it ain’t even about the money for her no more.” Mozzi leaned back in the soft leather of their booth. “She likes the attention.”
“Not necessarily a good thing,” Kong, his big brother, voiced after tossing back a shot and checking the time on his Patek.
“Aye, I’m not here to dictate what she do.” Mozzi shrugged and leaned forward after shoving his empty glass to the side.
The two of them were trying to unwind after their engagement earlier in the evening.
Moose had to get to his tattoo shop and put in an appearance since it was the grand opening.
He was one of the most sought out artists in the state, and his other ink mates, as he liked to call them, were blowing him up all night about the huge turnout they had.
Most people were expecting him, and he couldn’t disappoint.
Nodding, Kong poured himself another shot while Brim enjoyed the show on stage and continued to hit the weed.
“Right, then you don’t mind that nigga Nickel front and center, throwing money at her?” Kong insinuated, swallowing the warm liquid.
Mozzi’s gaze immediately drifted past him to the stage and caught what Kong had witnessed.
“Nah, I ain’t worried about it.” He shook his head, but his nostrils flared.
“You should be. Been told you about that hoe.” Kong shook his head.
He always thought Lin was trouble. She had a history with both Mozzi and Nickel.
The three of them attended high school together, but Nickel hated Mozzi from jump.
Something about him triggered the hater in that nigga, and Mozzi didn’t fuck with that kind of energy.
Nickel made everything a competition, and all Mozzi did was be himself.
Girls loved everything about him, which caused envy among niggas like Nickel.