Page 26 of Saint Baptiste 2

With a sigh, I lifted my head and looked over at her. Something was up with her. Had been since she showed up. Her smile was forced. She was fidgety. Kept fucking with the big unnecessary puffball hanging off her Chanel bag.

Through a deep breath Natasha said, “I can’t do the 24th. I’m going to be out of the country and?—”

“Out of the country?” Blaise interrupted with a cocked brow. “Out of the country with who?”

Running my hand down over my waves, I tossed my head back against the couch. Here we go. These meetings were hard to get through already, todays especially. A nigga really didn’t need the added-on stress. Type of time I was on, I was liable to let these two muthafuckas go at it however they felt necessary.

My patience was thin. Lack of sleep played a big part in that. I’d love to say that Naoki was the furthest thing from my mind, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t at the front of it. But she was there. Always there. Lingering in the shadows. Every time there was a brief moment of silence, she crept to the front of it. I hated the shit. Couldn’t shake the fucking woman. I was like a got damn addict, looking for his next fix. Except, there would be no next fix. It was only the beginning of my rehabilitation, and I was going through withdrawals already.

Tasha shifted around a bit and shrugged her left shoulder. “Yes, out of the country. With who doesn’t matter. I just won’t be here. So, we need to see if we can switch the meeting to?—”

Taking a deep breath, I sat up again. “Where out of the country are you going to be, Natasha?” I questioned, with my eyes fixed on the brown and tan hues swimming around the cup of hot coffee as I stirred it. Coffee. I had coffee. Maurine prepared it for me this morning. Said she brewed it for the ‘family’ but I knew Maurine well enough to know she’d prepared it for me specifically. She noticed the bags under my eyes. I saw her focus shift to them this morning when she arrived. She didn’t mention them. Instead, she brewed a strong ass pot of coffee, poured me a glass, and made sure to mention that she made coffee for my meeting. I thanked her and accepted it, although I had never drunk a cup of coffee in my life.

A question like that, asked by either of our brothers, would have been asked with their eyes on hers but I didn’t need to look her in the eye to invoke intimidation. I rarely questioned Tasha. Shit, barely called her by her full name. If I was asking her anything by her full name, the gravity of my question had been conveyed crystal clear.

“Bali,” Tasha said through a sigh. “I’ll be home that Sunday morning and?—”

“Who are you going to Bali with?” I continued slowly stirring my coffee.

There was a brief silence before another one of her sighs filled the massive space. “A friend.”

“I’m sure that friend has a name,” Blaise interjected.

She took another deep breath, and that awkward silence filled the massive space for a second time. I let her have it. It was aight. I sat with it because this wasn’t a conversation Tasha was used to having. She was stressed. I sat in silence, impishly stirring coffee I didn’t drink, and Blaise stood against the armoire with his arms crossed over his chest gawking at her with his top lip turned up into a snarl. I understood the hesitation perfectly. Patience was one of my strongest traits. However, even my patience could run thin.

After a minute too long, I stopped stirring and shifted my eyes up at her. Finally, she spoke.

“His—”

“His?” Blaise rudely spat with a grunt before pushing up away from the armoire to pace. “He only wants to fuck. Didn’t we teach you anything? You are a Baptiste,” he said through clenched teeth. And tight lips. “Act like it.”

I didn’t expect the nigga to keep his cool for long. He never could. He was a fool to believe she was talking about anything other than a nigga when she mentioned Bali. Fuck did he think? Tasha was going on a girls trip out the country? Natasha didn’t have friends; she had cousins. Just like us. We didn’t move around with anybody outside of the bloodline unless there was sex involved. Blaise just like Jahad, hadn’t separated teenaged Natasha from grown up Natasha. I understood. Even she had a hard time separating the two. It wasn’t just the naivety it was a lot of shit.

I was fucking up. We were fucking up. Years ago, Tasha would have never been able to blindside us. We would have known who Natasha was dating before their first date. Shit... low key, would have known the minute there was an exchange of phone numbers. But... things were different. Shit was hectic. Between Samuel’s declining health, the change of positions, and me trying to keep my fucking head above water, keeping close tabs on Natasha had gone unchecked. That was an area that couldn’t go neglected.

Blaise and I made eye contact. We did that thing that only Baptiste men could do. Communicated with our eyes. This wasn’t on me. It was on us. But because Blaise didn’t know what the fuck accountability was, he’d place the blame solely on me.

Tasha squinted at him with fire behind her brown eyes. “You taught me a lot,” With a scowl, she rolled her eyes. “Anyway, like I was saying... You know what? Fuck what I was saying. The flights are booked and I’m leaving rather y’all like it or not. Contrary to what the two of you may believe about me, I’m not just some stupid little girl. I know what I’m doing.”

“You do?” Blaise condescendingly asked with a snarl. “Hm? Tell us, Tasha. Tell us, what are you doing exactly?”

“Whatever the hell I want to do,” She beefed up, challenging him with a snarl of her own. Another chuckle forced me to stand up straight. “In case you forgot, I’m a grown ass woman. I’m not a child anymore and I can move around as I please.”

That was true.

She was spittin’.

Still didn’t take away from the fact that Tash didn’t have the usual upbringing so mentally, she wasn’t as mature as the average twenty-six-year-old woman.

I ran my tongue over the corner of my mouth before pushing up from the couch.

With a nod and a light smile, I agreed. “Facts. You’re not a little girl anymore, Tash. You can move around as you please. Nobody’s trying to stop you from doing you, sé. You know how this shit go.” Standing in front of her, I stuffed my hands into the front pockets of my navy-blue slacks. “How long you know buddy?”

“A few months,” She proudly answered with her eyes locked on mine, before snatching her apricot peacoat off the couch and draping it over her forearm. With her thin shoulders pulled back and head held high, she averted her gaze between Blaise and me. “I had Carlisle do an extensive background check on him before we went on our first date. Remember I’m a Baptiste too. I might not know how to operate a drug empire or?—”

“Poze (Chill),” I gritted with my eyes shifted up at her. Pulling my hands from my pockets, I circled my index fingers in the air to remind her of the houseguest she’d obviously forgotten about.

“She’s a Baptiste,” Blaise condescendingly mocked with his arms crossed over his chest, his accident thicker than usual. “What is this niggas name, Natasha? Hm? You say you had Carlisle do an extensive background check on him. You don’t give a job like that to Carlisle.” He scowled with flaring nostrils. “You give that job,” he paused and pointed at his chest. “To me!”

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