Page 37 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
Markus grunted. “What’s her deal anyway? Who the fuck she runnin’ from?”
“If I knew that nigga would be in the sewer with the rats, but she doesn’t trust me enough yet to tell me,” Nia shared with a yawn. “Whoever it is, they did a number to her.”
“Like there’s more bruises on her besides her face?”
“All over,” Nia spoke, recalling the night she ran in front of her car. “Just be nice. I know that’s a tall order.”
“I’m nice.”
“You aren’t,” Nia huffed.
“I’m nice,” he asserted. “As fuck actually.”
“A nice shot, with nice shoes and a nice car and a nice house but you, Emilliano, aren’t nice. Just don’t be your regular self. Idon’t need her running off. She’s made more money for us in a week than anyone else has.”
“So you keeping her around for the money?” Markus quizzed.
“No, but that’s a plus. I hate when I’m nice and the shit is a waste of everyone’s time and resources. I’ll call her later. Remember what I said.”
“I heard you. I got shot in the arm, not the head, Nia,” he grumbled.
“I don’t know. Even Reign asked if you were slow,” Nia spoke with a snicker.
He frowned. “Where the fuck she get that from?”
“Uh, maybe it was ‘Nia, I found your mute on the stoop’,” Nia repeated. “I told you lay off the pills.”
“Mmhmm,” he muttered, pouring two into his mouth. “I need a re-up. Handle that. I’ll update you when I get to the shop.”
“Good and all my shit better be there this time too.”
“Who is runnin’ this shit, me or you?”
“Me, nigga. I just let you think you’re in charge. Hang up, I’m going back to sleep.”
“What the fuck ever. Tell Svyn to have his ass at the warehouse by noon. You niggas ain’t slick.”
Nia smacked her lips. “Get off my line, Money.”
“Noon, Svyn, we got moves to make,” Markus called back before hanging up. He washed, dressed, popped two more pills and ensured he had a few in his pocket and a blunt before leaving his house and heading into the city. He swung by the warehouse to grab what Nia needed for both the salon and her other clients, then stopped to grab breakfast at Top of The Morning Café.
“Look what the cat drug in,” the barista crooned, spying Markus amongst the morning businesspeople buzzing around. “What you here for?”
He watched as she bit her lip, flipped her hair over her shoulder and let her eyes dance over him. This was the look and the reaction he was used to. That was what made him getting what he wanted out of women easy. They damn near offered themselves to him on a platter. They all wanted a piece of Money. Regardless if he was accepting offers or not, they loved him. Be it his appearance, his charm underneath the brute or the knots in his pocket, this was the norm. What he wasn’t used to was Reign.
The moment her name flashed across his mind and those diamond-cut eyes shot his thoughts an avoidant gaze, he groaned inwardly. He continued to move toward the back, rounding the counter.
“It ain’t you,” he shot back, causing her to smack her lips and giggle.
“You keep playing, I’ll change your life,” she stated.
“I don’t need my life changed. I need two breakfast burritos and two blackberry lattes, none of the cow titty shit and both cups without your number on it. I ain’t callin,” he stated, roaming into the office.
She smacked her lips. “You know you want it, Money.”
“What I’m gon’ do with a shorty that can’t keep her phone on, and her hair done without some nigga doing it for her?” Markus queried, zapping the stupid, girlish grin from her face. “Yeah, I’ll never be your come up.”
Markus tapped the code on the door, stepped in, and closed it behind him. Being that Brantley was demoted, Svyn was busy with balancing the streets and being in Nia’s space. Markus had to collect the money until he found someone within his camp he could trust with the day-to-day. Sooner than later, he needed someone who wasn’t on no bullshit when it came to his business. Someone he didn’t have to micromanage or have the itch to put a bullet through.
