Page 32 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
“How you know she’s a hoe?”
“That’s a BBL in a sweatsuit. It’s a hoe with a sad story. Watch. Just hope it ain’t Svyn she’s goin’ to try to fuck on. Or Money for that matter.”
“Girl, shut up and take your ass to the shampoo bowl. Please smoke a blunt before you come to the house tonight.”
Cyn rolled her eyes, stood and walked to the shampoo area. Nia, on her way back peeked in the supply room. Everything had been neatly stored by product and size, the boxes were broken down and carried out and all signs of Reign was gone. The fact that she walked from the hair shop to the salon with a twenty pound box and worked on her day off without complaints set her apart. Reign wasn’t looking for a handout, she was looking for survival.
“I can’t standthose green ass bubbles,” Nia’s voice flowed clearly into Reign’s hotel room. “I was just making sure you were still coming over.”
Reign looked at her basic outfit and hummed. Her hair was still wrapped and pinned. The scrapes from falling into the bushes nights ago almost going away with the lotion supplied from the hotel. In Port Lucia, a girls’ night always consisted ofJavier placing her with other women he had in rotation. Drugs, liquor, and closely monitored fun. Fun that always ended up with her being punished in some manner.
While she didn’t get those vibes from Nia, she was hesitant. She didn’t want to be naïve. She didn’t want to fall into a trap. She didn’t want to get three steps ahead and be knocked back ten.
Reign huffed and grimaced. “Yeah. How do I get there?”
Nia chuckled. “Don’t worry about a cab or the subway. I’m sending a JoyRide to come get you. One of these days, we’ll get you acclimated with the city.”
Reign grimaced again. The city was overwhelming – nerve-wracking. How she walked a twenty pound box down blocks was beyond her, but she was proud she’d did it.
“Sooo,” Nia’s voice broke the silence. “You comin’? I got wine. I’m working on some pasta but it might be pizza if I burn the sauce again.”
“Yeah,” Reign softly replied. “No wine for me though.”
Nia didn’t argue, just smiled in her voice. “I have a bunch of stuff. I’ll send the car. I’ll see you soon!”
“See you,” Reign hummed before flipping her phone closed. “Well, Reign, here goes nothing. Or something. God please let this be good for me.”
She stopped and scoffed at herself. “You got the nerve to mention God.”
Reign pulled herself out of the bathroom, took the travel size of lotion, rubbed her cut feet with the watered down moisturizer and finished dressing. Sure to grab the hoodie off of the ottoman, she stuffed her money down into her bra and underneath her left boob. She was getting in the habit of always having her money on her person. If anything happened and she needed to run, she’d be okay.
A text came through from Nia letting her know the JoyRide was arriving in six minutes. There was just enough time for Reign to don her hoodie, grab her key and jog down the flights of the stairs. She refused to get on the elevator, at least they would have to work to catch her on the stairs. Appearing in the front of the hotel, Reign found the black SUV, front tags reading 76YH92 just like Nia’s text indicated. She slipped inside and settled into the plush leather seat.
She wasn’t naïve to the fact Nia and Markus were making money illegally. The drug game didn’t scare her. She’d ran her packs, made money off strippers and sex workers, made sure she knew how to clean it. At twenty-six, she’d lived a life of a woman much older than her. Being on her own since a teenager forced that out of her. The issue came in when the reality of flying too close to the sun in the name of survival was just as dangerous as where she’d came from.
As the SUV made its way through the city, Reign took in the lights, the people moving about, lost in their own worlds. The city lights faded into the background, over a bridge into the suburbs. Brownstones and modest cars lined the streets. Another thirteen minutes and the homes and cars went from modest to upper class. To the naked eyes, Nia and Markus were successful business owners, nestled in plain sight. The JoyRide double parked near a blacked-out BMW M8. Reign gingerly wiggled out, unable to afford to look at the car let alone hit it and piss off whoever the owner was.
Reign thanked the driver and eased in front of the BMW, on to the sidewalk and up the stairs. The music and aroma of burnt butter met her at the black-framed, smoke-stained glass door. She tapped her knuckles against the door before sensing a presence behind her.
“You should know, Nia can’t cook shit.” Markus’ raspy voiced flowed out of his mouth and danced across her ears with thelingering smoke that trailed him. Her hairs stood on their ends, not in danger but with intrigue and that was dangerous. Her body tensed and her heart flooded in her ears. The same thing it did earlier when she cut his hair. She despised every inkling of it. She hated herself for attracting the same man over and over, especially just days after escaping.
This was too much, too soon, too unwanted. Without a verbal response, she slid away, stuffing her hands into the pocket of the hoodie. Markus’ glasses-covered eyes danced over her for a moment. That wasn’t on her bingo card. Him wearing glasses gave him a less menacing appearance.
His thick brows pinned. “Is that my hoodie?”
Reign curled her lip ready to tear it off her body and toss it to the ground.
He chuckled to himself knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer but chose to further taunt her. “Looks good on you.”
Reign’s lip curled more and her eyes narrowed. He punched in the code on Nia’s door and pushed the door open. Stepping back at a safe distance, he motioned her in. Reign glared at him before easing past him like he had a disease and she didn’t want to catch it.
“Nia, I found your mute on the stoop!”
Reign walked in and waited in the foyer. She had manners, that was the bare minimum. She just didn’t roam through someone’s house, invited or not.
Markus glanced at her again. “You got to be from the south or something. Come on, she’s in the kitchen.”
“No one invited your ass, Money,” Nia called from the kitchen, dumping out another pot of sauce. “That’s probably why I can’t make this shit right because you and your energy is fuckin’ this up.”
