2. DANE BIG DANE RICHARDS
“Everything is just like you requested, sir.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled to Zamya, with her smart-ass mouth. My cousin/assistant was trying to start shit with me this morning, but my mind was elsewhere. Otherwise, I would’ve corrected her about calling me sir. “Have Van get the jet ready.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied smartly and backed out of my office.
When she closed the door, my homeboy, Angelo, chuckled. “You serious about this, huh?”
“Hell, yeah,” I answered. “You know how fuckin’ hard it is to get close to her?”
“Not for you,” he said. “You just refuse to play the Big Dane card.”
“That’s how I know you don’t pay attention, bruh. I have hundreds of women sliding in in on me daily. From the richest of the richest to a woman busting her pretty ass waiting tables. Never have I ever had a DM, pigeon’s note, or so much as a fuckin’ tag or mention from her.”
Angelo burst out laughing.
I waved him off and said, “She’s lowkey, and I fuck with her because of it.”
“Aight, so you supposed to just pop up on her, and what?” he questioned.
“Get my fuckin’ date, nigga.”
He grinned. “Aight, that’s cool and everything, but keep in mind. She just broke up with ol’ boy.”
My top lip curled in disdain. “Don’t bring that fuck nigga up inside my office, mane.”
Angelo sputtered and burst out laughing again. “Oh, this is more serious than I thought. Shouldn’t you be happy that he fucked up?”
“I am happy he fucked up. I still wanna put my hands on him, though.” And I hadn’t put my hands on a nigga in a minute. Haven’t had to.
Amused, Angelo shook his head. “Look, I understand, bruh. I’m a married man for this very reason. The minute I caught Lyla slippin’, I attacked her muhfuckin’ ass like a tic.”
It was my turn to laugh. “That’s what it’s all about. If I can’t be stupid and obsessed about a woman, or if I can’t be damn near in a woman’s skin, she ain’t the one for me.”
Angelo and I dapped. “Fuckin’ right,” he said. “I’m never comin’ up off mine. And she ain’t never comin’ up off me.”
That was what the fuck I was looking for in my life. Well, I wasn’t technically looking anymore. Hadn’t looked in a while. Not since I laid eyes on her. Not since I felt the power of ten volcanoes when we crossed each other’s paths for the first time.
It was at the Music in Black Awards. Lowkey, I’d watched her the whole night.
Then she got on stage to present the Album of the Year Award.
Every nigga in the building had their attention glued to her.
When they called my name as the winner, I kept it cool.
I walked towards the stage, rehearsing how I was going to play off the way she looked so fucking good standing there that I wanted to tackle her with a hug and kiss.
I settled for a church hug, and she smelled good as shit.
In a split second, I noticed the goosebumps along her delicate, bare shoulder, the beat of her heart against her neck, and the way her hand rested on my back, then slightly stroked me.
Ever since she presented me with that fucking award, I’d been on her ass hard.
I knew who I wanted, and I was determined to have her.
First, I had to get past that roadblock of a mama/manager of hers.
Being a silent partner at Onyx Cove Resort had always paid off.
It was paying off even more with the arrival of Justina Knight.
Although Onyx Cove Resort was built on its discretion and luxury, Angelo looked out by informing me of Justina’s impending arrival.
Angelo and I owned the resort together, and he kept his eyes and ears on any and everyone who passed through.
His nosiness netted me an opportunity to finally get Justina alone.
If her mama caught me sniffing around her daughter, she’d dead that shit expeditiously.
Claire Knight was a fucking bulldog in these industry streets, and although I was an entire billionaire, her muthafuckin’ ass was someone I didn’t want to make enemies of.
Simply because I wanted her daughter. It was evident that Justina loved her mama.
So, if her mama didn’t fuck with me, I had no chance with Justina.
The strategy was to get Justina to fall for me before she left my resort.
A handful of days was crazy work to get her to fall for a nigga, but I was good at making shit happen.
Plus, love at first sight and all… Anything was possible.
All I needed was to secure a date. The rest would work itself out.
Justina muthafuckin’ Knight had Dane Richards written all over her.
She just didn’t know it yet. In due time, she would.
“Once we sign the dotted line on Urbn Muzic Records, you gotta decide if you wanna move it here, or keep it in London.”
“We have to first seal the deal, bruh,” I said in reference to a lucrative buyout of a record label based in London.
Urbn Muzic Records, or UMR, was owned by another rapper, Heavy Heat.
The label was in debt, and Heavy was in too much personal debt to save it.
He had several offers on the table. Mine was neck and neck with another billionaire rapper who couldn’t wait to one-up a nigga.
That label was mine, though. I had already claimed it and had a lineup of artists I planned to sign to the label.
“You know it’s ours,” he countered. “After Kar Tell’s listening party, we hop on the jet, get to London, have the meeting, and sign the contract.”
Although Kar Tell’s highly anticipated debut album was set to release, the newest artist on my label wasn’t on my mind. Making Justina mine was on my mind.
“I guess I’ma get outta here. Lyla’s finishing up her shift in a couple hours, so I’m gon’ welcome her home with a bubble bath, massage, and her favorite lemon cake. I feel a baby in our near future.”
I chuckled. “I’ain even mad at you, big dog. Be safe.”
We bumped fists again, then Angelo left my office. Zamya appeared at the door with her hands on her hips.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Hannah is not answering her phone. I’ve called her twice to get the last update on whether she wants to meet with Birmingham or not.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I said as I scrolled my call log until I got to my sister’s number.
I wasn’t worried that something was wrong with her.
A long time ago, I hired the best security to look after my sister.
There wasn’t a chance in hell anyone would harm her.
Not if they valued their life. She answered on the first ring, irritating Zamya.
“Hey, bro!” She sounded winded.
“Hey, baby girl. Where you at?”
“As if you don’t know,” she replied sheepishly. “I’m at the gym. Can I get my ass to sit up like a P without you or Zee interrupting me?”
“Yeah, aight. Call her back when you’re done.”
“Will do. She didn’t have to sic you on me.”
“And did,” Zamya intoned, to which Hannah laughed breathlessly.
“Bye, bro,” Hannah said before hanging up.
“She treats me like I haven’t worked for you for the past three years,” Zamya stated as she stepped fully into my office.
“It just takes her some time to get used to people. Don’t trip.”
“Oh, I’m not. Hannah is light work compared to some people I’ve worked for.”
I grinned. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”
Zamya laughed as she left my office. Hannah and light work didn’t belong in the same sentence.
My sister was an athlete at heart. After playing college basketball, she graduated and moved on to modeling.
I loved that for her, but she belonged on a basketball court.
Which was why Shacar Birmingham was on her trail.
He owned the Orlando Wildcats WNBA team and wanted Hannah on his squad.
My sister had a jump shot that rivaled the greats.
Between her tenacity in the paint, and her passion for the game, she was every team’s dream.
She had to sit down with the fucking owner first.
Zamya appeared at my door again, crashing through my thoughts.
“ETA two hours and thirty minutes, Cousin. I suggest you get a move on if you plan on getting there in time.”
I stood from my desk, collected my things, then shot out of there like missing one minute with Justina was too much.
My first stop was thirty minutes from my office. I pulled onto the side of the road, gathered the bouquets, a small dusting brush, and a polishing towel. I closed the door to my truck, and just a few steps later, I was at my destination.
“Hey, Gorgeous,” I spoke to the wind as I stooped down and brushed a few grains of dirt off the base of my mama’s headstone. I polished the smiling picture of her and replaced the flowers I brought her two weeks ago with a new, fresh bouquet.
“I’ll be gone for a minute, aight, baby.
” I always talked to her like she was sitting here with me and could answer me back.
She’d been gone for two years now, and time hadn’t been kind to a nigga.
I missed the fuck out of her and hated that she left this earth without experiencing life with her first grandchild.
She never got to see me get married, and she missed my little sister’s college graduation.
Donna fucked us up by leaving us the way she did.
“Would you believe I finally have a chance to get my girl, Ma. Say a prayer for me ‘cause I have a feeling she’s gon’ fight before she falls. Which I’m cool with. As long as she falls, right?”
Of course, Mama didn’t answer. I swallowed hard, angry that I couldn’t save her.
Cancer was a bitch ass, hating ass muthafucka.
My mama was living a good life, happy as hell, and full of life.
Cancer came along and snatched everything from her.
From her skin to her smile, cancer snatched it all.
That was what I hated most. It took my mama’s zest for life.
She was never without a smile, a prayer, or a sweet set of words that made anyone stop and listen.
She was the reason I loved to write. From the time I could form sentences, I loved putting words in form and allowing them to create audible pictures. A lifetime of growing in the presence of a poet would do that. Donna was the best mother a man could ever want.
“I’m sorry,” I told her for the thousandth time.
There were so many things I was sorry for.
Sitting at the top of the list was shunning the idea of having my own family.
Now that my mama was gone, all I could think about was settling down.
I had unlimited money, several houses, too many cars to count, and a list of other shit that didn’t keep me warm at night. I wanted my one.
That was where Justina came in. I had her in my line of sight, and I wasn’t letting up no matter how tough she curved me.