"What kind of deal?”
"To set you up. They want someone powerful in exchange for him."
"He thinks he's going to get me?”
I let out a hearty ass laugh that left Ciara's face shocked, and I didn't mean to scare her, but that shit was funny as fuck to me.
"Listen, you don't ever have to worry about no shit like that. I have been in the drug game a long time, and there is a reason the cops haven't touched me. They can't. I run a tight ship, and I have people looking out for me on the inside so that nothing will stick. NYPD has been trying for years, but that's all they've been doing is trying. So let him. But thank you for telling me."
"You're welcome."
She still looked like she had something else running through her mind.
"Is that it?"
"Yeah, I guess I just want to know if you will be doing something to him because of that or not."
"Ciara, if I do anything to him ever, you will never know because I'm not plaguing your mind with that bullshit. Now letme handle him and everything that you've told me today, and be at peace. That's what I'm here for."
"Okay. Thank you."
I got the luggage from her hand, and then we walked out of the apartment with my head on a swivel. This Kairo nigga definitely has to get dealt with even more now, but I have to be smart about the shit since I've now learned that the nigga is working with the cops. That means murdering him will take a little time, a little patience, but it will definitely happen.
Punching that nigga down wasn't enough for me.
Chapter 8
Cashmier
"Castle Hill. What is he doing over there?"
I closed out of the Air Tag app on my phone and sat up from the lean I'd been in for the past few hours. I've watched the whole season of The Hunting Wives twice, and if I watch it anymore, I'm sure I would too fall for Margo Banks and turn lesbian just like my girl Sophie. I for sure get her character, and not because of her want for other women, but because of how lonely she seems and her yearning for something exciting. I, too, felt neglected emotionally and physically, and that's why I've done half of the shit I've done behind Hov's back in the past. Staging that kidnapping was a cry for help that I'm not sure worked at this point. He still seems to be distant and distracted by something or someone.
I know Hov would never share his location with me voluntarily, so I had to find a more innovative way to keep up with him. This morning, I left Air Tags inside his car, as I've had enough of wondering where Hov is. Because of his lifestyle, I genuinely worry about him, but since the money is good, he wants me to be quiet. Hov's ass makes so much money a day that I've heard he has it stashed in different places all across thecity. It's funny because my father always preached that a college education was the key to unlocking wealth. Hov had, however, proved that it can be done in other ways. He just dropped five hundred thousand dollars on me when he could have said fuck me and his child.
“Hold on, wait.”
I spoke out loud because that single thought about the robbery in my head reminded me of something so critical that I stood up. The stud chick and the other guy, Elijah, who I had stage the kidnapping, live in those projects, so that must mean that he is over there right now, most likely taking them out and coming for me next.
"Fuck, am I about to be next?"
I talked to myself out loud, pacing back and forth as the thoughts raced in my head a thousand miles per hour.
"Fuck that, I should just go now. I should just leave."
I ran into the bedroom where all of my Chanel suitcases and tote bags were sprawled across the floor. This condo was a mess in just a few days, with Hov not allowing any visitors here whatsoever. Without our cleaning lady cleaning up twice a day, I see now how much of a mess I make.
My whole life growing up, I've had what I wanted, been where I wanted to be, and made moves on my own terms, no matter my age. I remember being five years old, making my father go out in a storm to get the right Gucci bag to carry to my birthday because I felt like he got the wrong color originally. Or when I had him take back my new car for my sweet sixteenth birthday because I told him cars are so 19th century, and I would much rather have my own driver instead. So, he did that. He did everything I asked of him because he was so career-driven that he wasn't emotionally available to me, but he made up for thatby giving me gifts and providing me with whatever I wanted. I watched my father give the boys he mentored, like Hov and Crew, more emotional attention than he ever gave me when I was growing up. He taught me at an early age how to replace my actual feelings with material things that I could hold close when I feel alone.
While throwing all my clothes, personal hygiene products, and electronics into the bag, I heard three knocks at the door that made me jump.
Knock knock knock
Oh fuck, is that him already?
Running out of the room into the hallway. My pace was slow at first until I remembered Hov wouldn't knock on the door. He had a key to come inside.
When I looked through the peephole, I backed away from the door and thought for a few seconds about whether I should open it or not. I wasn't scared because I felt he would do something to me for Hov. I know how big Hov is on handling his own debts, as he often talked in code. I know what most of that shit meant, though.
