2. Asif St. Thomas

FEW DAYS LATER…

“So, this the office, huh?” I perused the big ass space surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows.

“For the CEO, yes.” My father stood there, hands in his slack pockets, watching me with a smirk. “I’m proud of you, nigga.”

“Are you? Or you just happy you can lay up under Ma even more?” I asked, causing him to laugh while stroking his beard.

“Both. I’m happy I ain’t gotta check in around this muthafucka no more, but also, I’m glad you became the man you are right now. You just might be a better man than me, but that’s what the fuck I been gunning for since I got that DNA test back.”

We guffawed in unison.

“Damn.”

“Had to make sure you was mine ’fore a nigga got too excited.” He shrugged with a smirk.

“Shit, after what Cemone went through, you may need to check again.” I sat behind my desk, taking the shit in.

That situation was crazy as fuck to me, and even after it all, Cemone couldn’t stay true to his word and remove himself from Callen and Blakely’s lives. And though everyone had expressed he leave that shit be, Cemone, per usual, didn’t give a fuck what the next muthafucka thought if they weren’t named Yolani Compton.

However, once the real fathers were found out, shit became complicated because them niggas weren’t too fond of Cemone being any type of father figure. And due to legal shit, he really didn’t have no right to. Now, he saw them still, but it was only when with their grandparents, which wasn’t often.

Laughing, my dad replied, “Real shit, but nah. I got something more credible than a test. I can see myself in you, not just ya looks but how you move.”

“New and improved,” I joked.

“Yeah, aight.” He sat up straight. “So this is gon’ help you maneuver, son. With as much money as you making, the first thing muthafuckas gon’ do is a simple Google search, and if shit don’t come up or some shit does come up that don’t match, it’s gon’ be some bad shit on the horizon.”

“I know.” I nodded. Nigga had told me this about one hundred times at this point.

The plan was for me to come on as CEO in a few more years but because I’d made more money than he had expected me to, shit had to be done earlier to protect my freedom.

He eyed the office from his seat. “So when niggas see you the CEO of this bank and a part of the family that founded it, they won’t even look any fucking further. Not unless you moving sloppy, but that ain’t you.”

A knock sounded off on the door, so I yelled for them to come in. In walked a woman wearing a tight ass dress and shoes I usually saw on females in the fucking club.

“Hi, I’m Diamond, the new secretary.” She simpered softly at me, clutching some files.

“Nice to meet you, Diamond. Have a good day.” I nodded to her, and she stared for a minute before making an about face and switching out.

When my father and I made eye contact, we chuckled a little bit.

“Keep shit professional, young nigga.” He stroked his beard.

“You ain’t gotta worry about that shit with me. I don’t shit where I eat.”

I was speaking facts too. I would never fuck with a bitch that had access to my business in any way, shape, or form. Any female I gave dick to was on the outside and not even able to look in. I knew how women could get, and I’d be damned if I had to body Diamond’s pretty ass because she thought she could fuck with me on some woman scorned shit.

“Yeah, you definitely didn’t inherit that from me or my pops.” My father laughed.

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that shit, but one could assume he’d fucked on a woman in the past that he had no business smashing.

We chopped it up for about an hour longer, before my dad left me to myself just to take shit in and look over some of the books, company policies, and shit like that. I wasn’t just coming into this position at St. Thomas Financial simply to have a front. I wanted to actually improve on shit, make the company better while I got wealthier and stayed under the fucking radar. Rich as fuck and discreet was my motto.

As I looked over some documents, my paging device buzzed against me. It was some old shit that I was able to activate and give to my team of niggas, Money Fiends, and I was only to be contacted via this fucking pager. If a nigga made that fatal choice to call me up, that was on him. I always made shit clear, and I wasn’t fond of muthafuckas who were hard of hearing or hard of understanding.

Niggas just might have saw me as a tyrant, but I begged to differ. It was a reason I was where I was and why I had niggas on my mob eating like they never had before. No disrespect to my pops and brother, niggas before me, but it was real shit. No nigga who worked for me could say they weren’t eating good. I took my freedom and money making very fucking serious.

Peeping the screen, I saw the shit was from my nigga Low and knew it wasn’t good. Low usually only came to me, especially if he knew a nigga was busy, if he just couldn’t help it. That was something I appreciated about that young nigga.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, rising to my feet and shutting this whole shit down.

Grabbing my shit up, I left out the office, telling Diamond’s smiley ass I had to dip and wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day, to which she nodded and didn’t say shit else, thankfully.

Hopping into my Maybach, I sped off to the warehouse where Low and them niggas were. I got there about forty minutes later, due to the fact that the shit was somewhat out in the middle of fucking nowhere, California.

“Fuck happened?” I walked into the room to see one of my soldiers, Ram, laid out on the fucking table with his stomach covered in blood.

“One of them bum niggas tried to rob him,” Low replied, shaking his head.

“Nigga, what you got on?” Grady, one of my other niggas, eyed me while grinning.

“Dress shirt and pants, muthafucka. Act like you been somewhere before,” I shot back. “This ain’t no time to be laughing though, nigga. You should be combing the streets finding out who the fuck pulled this shit.”

Grady’s smile faded before he said, “Shouldn’t Low’s young ass be doing that?”

“Nah, I ain’t delegate that task to Low. That shit is for you. Me and Low gotta figure out how to save this nigga without taking him to the fucking hospital and opening an investigation.”

Sighing, Grady nodded, gave Low a look, and walked out of the warehouse.

“He losing a lot of blood, boss, and the nigga we usually call for shit like this is on vacation with his family. He’ll fly back for us, but Ram gon’ be gone by then,” Low explained as I stared down at Ram.

“Fuck.” I ran my hand down my face. “Take that nigga’s chain off and let me go change,” I instructed Low, who nodded.

I had no choice but to take Ram to the hospital, even though at this point, he didn’t look like he would make it. However, I couldn’t take him while wearing that MFM chain that I told his ass not to get. I wore one, but niggas weren’t bold enough to step to me like they would Ram. A muthafucka trying to rob me was a muthafucka with a death wish, or harboring the faith of a mustard seed, and niggas knew that.

Same time, Money Fiends Mob was well known in the streets, and every nigga knew if they were down with my shit, they were getting paid like a muthafucka, so it was no shock that a nigga saw Ram with that chain and wanted to hem his ass up. Niggas in LA were starving, so seeing a muthafucka with enough chains and bread to feed them for a year or more straight was too tempting to pass up.

I changed into my wife beater, joggers, socks, and sneakers, before securing my do-rag around my head, making sure my dreads stayed behind me. Leaving my office I’d had installed here, along with a few other amenities this muthafucka needed, I met Low, who was still standing at the table with Ram.

“What next?” he quizzed.

“Let’s get him in the black van, and we gon’ drop his ass out front of the hospital,” I instructed.

“Aight.”

Low fell in line, and moments later, we had Ram in the back of the van. Low did his best to keep Ram’s ass somewhat coherent and awake until we made it to the rurally located hospital.

“Ram,” I called out as I pulled up to the front, “if they ask, you don’t remember what happened or who shot you. I’m gon’ handle the shit, aight?”

Ram somewhat nodded before Low groaned while lifting him and tossed him out of the back, his body rolling along the concrete as a few people around screeched in horror. I didn’t wait around as I mashed the gas on this unmarked van, slowing up some down the street only so Low could close the doors.

Once Low and I got back to the warehouse and cleaned up, we parted ways, him agreeing to let me know what the fuck went down with Ram at the hospital once I got back, while I kept tabs on Grady to see what the fuck he found out.

Hours later…

“He gone.” Low shook his head as I stood before him, Grady nearby and shaking his head as well.

“We need somebody in house for this shit,” I said, pondering. “Ram could’ve been saved. The shit wasn’t that bad, it was just all that fucking wasted time.”

“Who, though? Most people too scared to come work for the underworld niggas,” Grady said, and that shit was true.

The nigga I’d usually went to, Dr. Mirran, I’d lucked up on his ass. He was greedy and wanted all the money being offered; he didn’t give a fuck about being afraid. However, he still worked in a hospital, had five kids, a wife, and even a fucking mistress, so he often took forever, or there were always workarounds needing to be found, like today with his bitch ass being on vacation.

“I’ll find somebody. Don’t trip. You make sure I know who the muthafucka was that robbed Ram by this time tomorrow, nigga. Our get back turnaround needs to be less than twenty-four hours. I don’t want this being some weeks long type shit.”

“I got you. By tomorrow,” Grady assured me.

I dapped both them niggas up and then left. As soon as my whip pulled onto the gravelly ass road, beginning my trip back into the city, my phone rang. I saw Milan’s name, and since I could definitely use some pussy, I answered.

“What’s up?” I asked, getting comfortable in my driver’s seat.

“Hey, are you busy tonight?” she cooed.

I smirked, already knowing what she was on, and I was definitely in the muthafuckin’ mood. And like usual, as my dick hardened slightly, I thought about Anastazia.

She was pretty as fuck, but I’d met a lot of beautiful ass women; however, she was different to a nigga. She was smart, sexy, and my favorite thing about her was her chill demeanor. She and Analicia were a lot alike, but whereas Analicia was more extroverted, the type to make everybody get up and dance if music was playing, Anastazia was the more laid-back, observant type.

I didn’t meet too many women like that, especially with my line of work. Bitches always wanted to be seen and in the middle of some shit, and because I was a low-key nigga, I wanted a woman to match my vibe. And while most niggas were scared shitless of Anastazia at the moment, I found her actions against that fuck nigga Cedric gangsta and sexy as hell. Not too many women would load up and pop a nigga all on their own.

As you might have guessed, Milan wasn’t anything close to being low-key. She was fine, a good fuck, would legit let a nigga put it in any hole she had, but outside the bedroom, she did too much for me. Always twerking, always loud, always wanting people to know I was in her guts periodically, always wanting to be looked at, spoken about, followed on social media—some shit I didn’t even use really—and anything else that would put her in the spotlight.

I wasn’t saying I wanted a boring, don’t-wanna-do-shit ass female. I just wanted a woman who sat pretty in that sweet spot. She could be fun, but she could also sit her ass down and just kick it or go a day without posting a video of herself shaking ass just for niggas to comment on it. While I enjoyed Milan’s videos as much as the next nigga, the ones she sent me since I didn’t frequent social media enough to catch them muthafuckas on my own, all it did was make me wanna fuck and nothing else.

“I’m not busy,” I answered.

“Oh, good. You should come see me, daddy.”

“Oh, I should?” I smiled.

“Yes. I got it set out for you, so it’s perfect that you don’t have any plans.”

“What you got for me?”

“Come see.” She giggled salaciously.

“Aight. I’ll be there in an hour or some shit.”

Milan happily got off my line, and twenty-five minutes later, I was at her condo building, riding up.

Before I even rang her doorbell good, she was opening the door in next to fucking nothing.

Leaning against the doorway, she let her silk robe fall open further to show off the crotchless panties and pasties she had on.

“Hi.” She smiled as I took her in, going inside and letting my hands grace her small waist.

She giggled as I squeezed and smacked her plump ass, before she took my hand and led me through her spot that she’d taken her time to set the mood in.

As I sat on the bed, she straddled me, and I got right to tugging on her underwear. Despite them muthafuckas being crotchless, they hindered a nigga from really diving deep in that pussy the way I liked to. Not to mention, I wanted access to every fucking thing.

“What you doing?” I quizzed, frustrated when she moved my hands away, grinning.

“Before we go there, how was your day?”

“Straight.” I got back to sucking on her neck.

“Sif,” she whined, “why don’t you ever give me anything or tell me much of anything?”

“It don’t fucking matter how my day was, Milan. That’s ain’t what a nigga is here for. That’s not what you around me for. I came here to get a nut off, not go to fucking therapy.”

“Alright.” She nodded, climbing from my lap and pulling on the waistband of my sweats.

I lay back on her plush ass bed as she took me into her warm ass mouth, sucking me off with passion like her ass always did.

“Damn, love.” I groaned, palming the back of her head and guiding her slightly, loving the way she sounded when she gagged a little fucking bit.

For the next half an hour or so, I beasted on Milan, getting all my frustrations out in that pussy, and she took it, wetting my dick up and without complaint.

Once finished, I trashed the condom and lay down with her just for a quick second, not wanting to hear shit about me using her for pussy. But I wasn’t staying the night. I didn’t give a fuck about how much she bitched.

My pops, and even my brothers, liked to call me paranoid, but Asif St. Thomas would never spend the night with a bitch I was only fucking. Niggas made it too easy to get caught slipping, and I would never be caught up. I moved a certain way and thought before I made any additional moves, to be sure of the shit.

Even something as simple as coming to kick it, I told Milan I’d be here in an hour, knowing that without all the stuffy ass traffic, it’d be more like twenty minutes. Shit like that may have seemed simple, but a minute could make all the fucking difference.

“Hey, so my cousin is having a birthday party, and I wanna go.”

“So go.” I stared up at the ceiling, keeping an eye on my piece that laid on the dresser as Milan lay on me.

“I am, silly. I was saying I want you to come with me.”

“Nah. You know yo’ people, especially yo’ fucking cousin, ain’t my type of people.”

Milan wanted me to go so she could show off, but even if that weren’t the reason, I didn’t kick it with the type of muthafuckas she surrounded herself with. Not only were they rambunctious and over the top like her, but they were also sneaky. Every single homegirl of hers, including her cousins, had tried to fuck me on the low. And while I wasn’t Milan’s nigga, they knew me through her, and that made it fucked up. I didn’t associate with muthafuckas who moved like that.

“Which cousin? I didn’t even say.”

“Bianca or whatever the fuck her name is.”

“Bianni,” she replied somberly, letting me know I’d guessed right. “Please, baby.” She sat up some, looking down into my face like she wanted to kiss a nigga, but she knew better.

“Told you I don’t like that begging shit, unless it’s for some dick, and even then, I ain’t too fond of it.” I sat up.

“But if you’re my man, you should be willing to suck it up, just for one night. I promise we won’t be too crazy, and I swear my cousin Nick won’t ask to be put on this time.”

First and last time I went somewhere with Milan, I ended up having to put my nine in her cousin’s mouth for thinking shit was a game when I told him I wasn’t there for no fucking hiring event. It wasn’t often I got out of character, but occasionally, a fuck nigga could pull it up out of me.

“I ain’t worried about Nick’s muthafuckin’ ass,” I said, grabbing my boxers and slipping them on. “And I’m not ya man, Milan. We cool and that’s it.”

These past couple years of me being in the game had altered a nigga’s perspective heavily. The shit that used to excite me and shit didn’t so much anymore. I learned quickly that witnessing all the death, betrayal, and everything else that came with this lifestyle made you mature much faster than expected. By saying that, Milan was a year my senior at twenty-seven, but mentally, she was immature as fuck to me.

All the shit she liked to do, I’d done tenfold already, and it was old as fuck to a nigga now.

While I liked to hit the club maybe two or three times a month, depending on the scenario, Milan could roll through that muthafucka two, three times a week.

Money and business always came first for me. However, Milan had an online boutique that she often forgot to fulfill orders for, making her gain a reputation as a scammer. She liked to get blackout drunk every Monday night and wake up Tuesday evening when, by that time, I’d already put in fifteen hours or more.

She wanted to spend money like it grew on trees, and floss, while I had several savings accounts—some hidden, some not—and only wore a few things that niggas had to just be up on that rich nigga game to even recognize. On some if you know, you know shit.

We were worlds a-fucking-part, and the only thing we came together on with no issues was fucking. I wasn’t knocking her; she was young and lively. She just couldn’t be my lady living like that.

She pouted slightly but nodded, watching me continue to get dressed.

“Stay, baby. I won’t talk about the party anymore, and we can go another round.” She rubbed my spot on the bed after letting the covers fall from her naked body.

“Nah, I wanna go home.” I leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Ple—I won’t ask again, okay?” she called after me.

“Lock up, love,” was all I said as I left out, anxious as fuck to be alone.