Page 86 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
Noticing the shiver her body gave, I didn’t wait for her to reply because that was a good enough response. I bumped elbows with the valet as I got out. He was a familiar face since the mob kept the same workers for obvious reasons. The less motherfuckers knew about what we did in our downtime, the better.
“Aye, big dawg.” The valet’s eyes scanned the lot as he lowered his head while speaking to me.
“Yeah?” I didn’t know what he wanted, and had no interest in finding out, but I waited to see what it was he was gearing up to spit at me.
Reaching into his pocket, my arm immediately went to the back of my waist to clutch my gun. I could hear Solana gasp behind me, but I wasn’t tearing my eyes away from the potential threat. I was on whatever the hell he was on, and if he was on bullshit, he’d be taken out, discarded, and made a missing person before the next hour.
“Whoa! I ain’t on no shit like that,” he assured.
Using the gun, I tapped his hands that were still in the pocket of his hoodie.
“Slow,” I instructed. I could feel Solana’s eyes on me, but I wasn’t worried. She’d be dealing with much worse shit once she was released to her future husband.
The valet, moving as slowly as a snail, pulled out a folded gallon-sized bag of white powder. At a second glance, I realized that inside the bag were small baggies filled with the rich white man’s drug. Scraping my bottom lip with my top teeth, I relaxed a little.
“I was just letting you know, I had some white girl for sale.”
Tucking my gun back under my shirt, I kept my eyes on the young, eager dope boy. Had this been Don, he’d approach—which I knew he wasn’t stupid enough to do—he’d be eating a bullet right now. But I had respect for him. Not only was he working, but he was hustling too. Working these events was the perfect lick. My people and I didn’t play with our noses, even though we sold enough white to fill one of Preston’s arctic simulations. Just because we didn’t, didn’t mean other motherfuckers inside didn’t.
“I fuck with the hustle. If somebody in there looking, I’ll send ’em out here.”
With a grin on his face, he nodded.
As I said, I respected the hustle, but that didn’t mean other niggas would. His hunger would either get him rich as fuck or dead as fuck when it came to the mob. There would be no in between.
Rounding the car, I waited until her door opened with the sensor I had installed and held my hand out for her to exit. She wasted no time placing hers in mine. Her heels were tall, but she was able to step in them with precision. Swapping from hands to arms with hers now hooked in mine, we were skin to skin since I was wearing a short-sleeved collar Versace shirt. Ignoring my thudding heart, I led her into the building.
She hadn’t mentioned or questioned what she’d witnessed, which I appreciated.
Sticking my hand in my pocket, I pulled out a wad of twenties that I usually used to tip. “Open your bag.”
She gave me a questioning look but complied.
“A woman shouldn’t ever walk around with an empty purse. Especially one that cost three bands.”
“Lessonnumbre tres(number three)?”
Instead of replying verbally, I held up my pinky, index, and middle fingers. She nodded, and we proceeded into the building.
Upon stepping inside the space, the all-black color scheme had me giving a nod in approval. The décor was sleek yet dramatic, with touches of silver accents complementing the black. The decorations greeted us at the door—flowers, silks, and the scents of perfumes, food, and money flowed throughout the space. There was no doubt that plenty of fucking paper was in attendance. Stepping in stride on my side, the team had definitely done their job with Solana’s look. She blended in well with the evening looks everyone else was sporting while alsostanding out due to the curious eyes glancing our way. I had yet to spot any of my blood relatives, so we kept moving into the main ballroom.
I didn’t know an event coordinator who worked harder than Daylani. Servers were in little black dresses, hoisting trays stacked with the finest champagnes and hors d’oeuvers. I hadn’t taken a sip, but I knew my people hadn’t done it any other way. Grabbing one from a waitress who was bypassing, I handed it to Solana. I could feel how tense she was, and it wasn’t from the encounter we had just moments ago from linking our arms. This felt like discomfort, and the bubbly would ensure that she relaxed.
She had no reason to be tense or uncomfortable, but I understood her position. These were my people, but they were no one to her. She was simply a stranger, passing through. That was why I wanted her to do something with her time outside of sleeping all fucking day. She’d been put in a situation where she could live it up before she bore the responsibility of carrying a man’s last name and babies; she needed to take advantage of it.
Before we walked through the double doors, I took Solana in with my eyes. She had her head down as her clutch was tucked under her arm with the flute of champagne in her hand. The left arm was cuffed around my bicep.
“Aye?”
Her head was still slightly bent as her eyes traveled up my face. Once our gazes were locked on one another, I tipped her head up. “Keep it lifted. Don’t bow to no muthfucka. Confidence… lesson four. Wear that shit like a badge of honor wherever you go. Muthafuckas can smell fear, and if you’re scared, that means you can be controlled. You look good tonight, Solana. You need to act like you know it too.”
Her eyes widened. I removed my hand from her chin and gently lifted the glass. Her full lips pressed against the rim asshe took a sip. Her throat moved slightly as she swallowed the champagne. Knowing that the alcohol would loosen her up, I stepped into the ballroom, and she moved in sync with a nigga. I hadn’t been in the room ten seconds, and I already felt the eyes on me. Mostly everyone in here was familiar, but the eyes I felt were ones I’d grown used to since the day I was born.
5… 4… 3… 2…
“Shio. Look at you! You look so handsome!”
Shannon smiled, and even though she was complimenting her only child, she had her sights set on Solana, who had placed her half-full glass on the empty tray of another waitress passing by.
