by Briann Danae
The hood was always popping and, as many times as he and Meechi tried to get their grandmother to move from it, she always declined. School was out and so were all the bad ass kids who lived on the block. The females looking for the next up and coming hood legend were out with the skimpiest of clothes on, ready to run through his pockets. The old couple who stayed getting Sen in trouble when he was younger were sitting out on their porch, waving at Sen as he drove by, and he waved back. He didn’t like their ass when he was a youngin’, but they were cool now.
Sen loved the hood, and it loved him back. It was a reminder of what he came from and how far he had come. The same block had raised him into the drug lord that he was today, and he’d never forget that. Throwing his ride in park, Sen grabbed the blunt from the ash tray and tucked it behind his ear, before exiting the car. Looking around at all the kids riding bikes, kicking balls, and chasing each other, he shook his head.
“Mufuckas not about to mess up my shit.” Going to the trunk, he pulled out three orange cones and placed each one on the back, side, and front of his ride.
“Anybody move these cones, ya’ll getting knocked out!” he hollered, making everyone laugh, but he was dead serious. He’d be damned if somebody scratched up his new paint job. Summer had just arrived and he couldn’t stunt with a fucked-up ride.
Shirt off with a popsicle in his hand, eight-year-old Tristian who lived up the block with silver fronts in his mouth ran up on Sen and kicked his cone over. “You ain’t nobody nigga.”
Smirking, Sen slapped the popsicle out of his hand, making Tristian blow up. Kicking Sen in his shin, he then punched him in the gut with all his might.
“I just got this popsicle from the ice cream man!” he hollered, on the verge of tears. He had been on good behavior all week, and the ice cream was his reward when the truck turned on the block minutes’ prior.
“Oh well, wit’ yo bad ass. What you gone do, tell yo mama?” Sen taunted, jumping out the way from one of Tristian’s balled up fist swinging his way.
Tristian ran up on him and punched him in the back, making Sen juke and jive to shake the little dude. He had the right mind to put him in a head lock, but didn’t want his mama, Mrs. Lynette, to come down there and whoop his ass for touching her baby. Her, bad ass baby.
“You owe me a popsicle, nigga!” Tristian screamed, as Sen jogged up the steps to Oliva’s screen door.
“As long as I owe you, you’ll never go broke.”
“What does that mean? Huuuuh!” Tristian huffed and ran off down the street to tell his mama what happened.
The saying Sen spat to him had been said in his household growing up for as long as he could remember. Always having the hustler mentality, Sen kept money on him. Through high school and even in middle school, he’d throw his mama a few dollars, not knowing she didn’t need it, and Sen would remind her when he was low on funds that she owed him. Truth was, if someone always owed you money, you indeed would never go broke. You just had to get what they owed you back first.
“Bad ass shouldn’t have kicked my cone over. Grandma!” he hollered, walking in the house. The screen door slammed loudly, making his cousin, Domo, peep his head from the kitchen doorway.
“What’s up nigga!”
“Why every time I come over here, yo ass in the kitchen? You ain’t got no job?” Sen asked, as they slapped hands.
Domo chuckled. “I would if you put me on.”
“Put you on what? I’m out here jobless too, my nigga,” Sen bluffed. He’d never confirm or deny his moves, family or not.
Sucking his teeth, Domo went back to fixing him a sandwich. He had to be at work in less than an hour and hated his job. It didn’t matter if he hated it or not though. The bills weren’t going to pay themselves.
“Grams!” Sen hollered out again, making Olivia smack him in the shoulder when she rounded the corner.
“Boy, what? Doing all this hollering. I heard you the first time,” she fussed.
Cheesing, Sen pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “What’s up lady? What were you back there doing?”
“Minding my business. Where’s Neicey?”
Sen sucked his teeth. “Is she your grandchild, or am I?”
Olivia chuckled, taking a seat at the table. “I was just asking. You know that’s my girl. And, yes. You are my grandchild. The most spoiled one out of them all.”
“Nah. He just a little special, so you have to show him more attention,” Domo replied with a chuckle, making Olivia do the same.
“Haters never prosper.” Sen shrugged. “She at work, though. Shit, she better be at work,” he answered.
“And where are you supposed to be at? I heard you in here asking folks about their job. What job do you have?”
Sen smirked. “I’ma boss, Grams. You know that.”
“Mhm. I bet you are. Ooh!” she said, clasping her hands together. “You mind running me to the store? Meechi said he’d do it later on, but I need to get a few things right now.”
Sen gave her the side eye. A few things always turned into a lot of things. “A few things?”
“Boy, don’t question me. We going or not?”
Laughing, Sen nodded his head and Olivia stood from her seat. “I’m in my Chevy, though. It ain’t got no roof.”
“You acting like I’ve never rode in a drop top. I’m not new to this, I’m true to this. I be trying to tell ya’ll. Your grandfather put you on to old school cars.”
Scratching his head, Sen agreed. When he and Meechi were younger before their grandfather passed away, he would have them in the back seat of his old school, riding through Swope Park on Sunday’s. Even though Olivia complained that they were too young to be going down there with him, Mr. Sutton assured his wife that they were in good hands.
“You right. I’ll be on the porch waiting for you.”
As soon as he stepped outside, the heat smacked him directly in the face. Pulling the lighter from his pocket and the blunt from his ear, Sen sparked it and took a generous pull. Across the street, Brandy was waiting on the perfect timing to make her presence known, and she didn’t see a better time than now.
Though she had moved from her mama’s crib, Brandy, like Sen, was always in the hood. Her, for other reasons than him, but she was still trying to be seen.
“Cara. Let me call you back. Sen just came out of his grandma’s house,” she told her friend.
“Mhm. You better.”
Disconnecting the call, Brandy skipped down the cemented steps. Adjusting the waistband of the shorts she was wearing, she made sure her appearance was up to par before crossing the street. Shaking his head, Sen watched her hips sway as she made her way over to him. Brandy wasn’t an ugly girl, but she was a person from Sen’s past that he did not want to relive. The thought of Neicey fucking up his old school ride like she had done his other Camaro had him choking off the weed smoke.
“Hey Sen,” Brandy’s voice was flirtatious, and Sen shook his head no.
“Nah. Nope. The fuck you want?”
She sucked her teeth and rolled her neck. “I was just coming over here to speak, with your rude ass. I see you ain’t never going to change.”
“And you still sucking every nigga’s dick who throw you a little bread. Let’s not talk about change.”
Wide eyed, Brandy took a few steps back. Sen had caught wind of her fooling around with one of the younger cats on his team but didn’t care at all to let it be known that he knew her. Though the insult was true, Brandy wasn’t going to let him try and play her like that.
“You weren’t saying that shit when I was sucking yours. Ole frontin’ ass nigga. You a hoe anyway!” she spat.
“Ya mama, bitch. And, yo head game wasn’t even all that. Average ass. All the dick sucking you do, you should be a pro by now, baby. Now, get yo ass on. Wearing those too lil’ shorts. Looking like a walking yeast infection.”
Brandy tugged down on the hem of her shorts, but it was no use. They didn’t budge a bit. T
ossing him her middle finger, she threw her long braids over her shoulder and switched off.
“Ass still fat than a mufucka, though,” Sen chuckled, putting his blunt out.
Some battles weren’t worth fighting. Brandy was a distraction, and Sen had been on the straight and narrow ever since he and Neicey got back together, and there was no way he was about to let some thot he had only smashed a few times before passing to the homies cause drama in his relationship.
“What was that heifa over here for?” Olivia asked, stepping out onto the porch.
Sen chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Asking if I had some crack. The girl out here bad, Grams.”
Olivia gasped and shook her head. “You lying? That poor child out here on drugs? I wouldn’t be surprised though. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”
On the inside, Sen was cracking up. Brandy wasn’t on drugs, but she had to be if she thought Sen was about to fuck with her.
“And you know I don’t even like apples, so I told her to gone head on,” he replied, holding the passenger door for her to climb in.
Stopping, Olivia looked at the front of his ride and shook her head. “Who do you think you are with these cones?”
“A man who takes pride in his whips. Now, come on and get in. You about to have me at this store all day,” he joked, as she smacked him in the head.
“Hush up. Meechi never complains when he takes me somewhere,” she said, climbing in.
Sen closed the door and muffled under his breath, “Have Meechi take you then.”
“I heard that!” Olivia hollered out, making Sen chuckle.
Swooping up the last cone, he tossed it in the trunk and climbed in the driver’s seat. Looking over, he couldn’t do anything but smile. At seventy-two years young, Olivia looked damn good for her age, with her seat belt on, a pair of designer shades Sen had bought her just because, and a content grin on her face. Meechi and Sensay were her babies, and there wasn’t anything in this world either of them wouldn’t do for her. Regardless if Sen acted like he had a problem with it, he’d give her and every woman in his life the world if they asked for it.
“Let’s roll young woman,” he announced, before peeling away from the curb.
***
“Ms. Butler, can I see you in my office for a few minutes.”
Office phone to her ear, Neicey felt her stomach cave in. After her thirty-minute counseling session with Dr. Fallone earlier that morning, she was sure her day at work would be better. The session, like every one she had been to, didn’t seem to help. In some weird way, Neicey thought that her skeletons, as she called them, would magically disappear once she attended a few sessions. Having only gone once or twice a month for the last year, whatever progression she was looking for wasn’t going to happen.
Sighing, she looked down at the time in the corner of her monitor. It was going on two in the afternoon and the center was rather slow, but she wasn’t complaining.
“Sure. Give me five minutes.”
Once the phone was on the latch, she rolled her eyes. “The hell does he want,” she mumbled. Placing herself on ‘meeting’ inside the employee time-in system, she rose to her feet.
“Hey, Ms. Price. Could you monitor the phones for me? I have a quick meeting.”
“Sure, honey. You go ahead,” Ms. Price replied.
Times like this was why Bryant and Dover hired two secretaries. Ms. Price was older, but she knew her shit. She had been with the company well over ten years and could run it on her own if she was given the chance. As quiet as kept, she almost did but declined. She enjoyed being in the front and greeting clients more than she did being tucked behind four walls with serious responsibilities.
“Thank you,” Neicey announced before heading down the hall.
Step after step, she felt her heart rate increase. She had never been called to anyone’s office before, and she could only imagine why now, of all days. The blunt she desperately wanted to smoke was in her middle console in the car and screaming her name. She hated being put on the spot at short notice, and that was exactly what was about to happen.
Making it down the long hallway, she knocked softly and waited for a reply to welcome herself inside. Before she could take a step back, the door was opened for her, and a pleasant aroma tickled her nose hairs. Desperately, she struggled not to lick her lips, but her brain failed the attempt.
“Come inside.”
His deep baritone shook her to the core, and she quickly stepped inside. The huge office didn’t look like he had just started working there at all. Tidy in every way, down to the award on the shelf, the space looked like it had just been renovated. Feeling like she was under his scrutiny, Neicey walked over to the extremely large bay window that looked over the city and took in the view. Hardly did she ever get to see the city from this side of the building, so she was taking it in.
“Nice view.”
Though he could have been talking about the view in front of her, Neicey knew he meant the view of her ass in front of him. Smirking, she turned on her heels and headed toward the seats in front of his desk.
“Indeed. How can I help you, Mr. Agaci? Or can we address each other by first name?” Neicey’s head was cocked to the side, waiting for him to answer.
Chuckling, he scratched his low-cut beard and stalked over to his chair. “You can call me whatever you like, Storm.”
“Don’t get smacked. I’d hate for you to get fired on what… your first week?”
He chuckled again, making Neicey roll her eyes. His chuckle was almost as sexy as he was, and it was irritating her. “They love you enough to fire me, even though you smacked me?”
“Sure do. And, you can drop this proper ass tone, Dexian. What’s really going on?”
Neicey was good on the games. After getting introduced to Dex as the new IT manager, she couldn’t help but think he was on some snake shit. Though her stripper life was behind her, there was always a hater in the cuts trying to remind her of her past. Humble as ever about once being a stripper, Neicey didn’t care that people knew. It was when they tried to tarnish her name behind a profession that was her means of getting money, is when she had a problem. What she didn’t play about was her money, and she felt Dex was.
“What you mean? I work here,” Dex said in a stern, defensive tone. In no way was he trying to sabotage Neicey and was offended that she would even think that.
The day Bryant and Dover introduced him to her, he was taken aback by her beauty and professional get up. Having seen her in nothing at all more than a few times, he appreciated her view. Dex waited for Neicey to approach him afterward, or at least let it be known that the two knew on another, but she didn’t. And, since she hadn’t, Dex took it upon himself to break the thick layer of ice that had formed. Plus, he wanted to see how she had been.
Neicey smirked and waved her hand around his office. “Clearly. But, who knew you were this genius. IT manager? Really, nigga?” she chuckled, making him do the same.
“What? You thought I was a dope boy or something?”
“Mhm,” she replied, nodding her head. “I surely did. You came to Ramada’s what… every weekend? You weren’t spending little money either. Trust me, I know.”
Dex laughed, and Neicey felt something she had only felt when she was around Sen, sexual attraction. Crossing one leg over the other, she inhaled but cursed herself when all she was granted a whiff of his Clive Christian cologne. She owned the woman fragrance and loved the smell.
“We never discussed my profession. The conversations were usually with me asking you out, you flirting, because that’s what fine ass woman like you do, and then I received a dance or two. You’d ask how my day was because I looked stressed, and I’d tell you it was fine. And it was after you approached me.”
Dex was looking Neicey right in her eyes, and a woman not confident in herself would have buckled under pressure, but she held her own. Staring back at him, she shrugged her shoulders.
“So, if you weren’t a dope boy, what did you do?”
Dex gave her that look that said, ‘if I tell you, I have to kill you’, and Neicey threw her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t going to force him to tell her anything. Hell, she didn’t really even care. She just wanted to be nosey.
“Some lowkey detective work for people in college.”
The word detective made Neicey’s jaw clench. She didn’t fuck with the feds at all. Dex peeped her expression and shook his head.
“I ain’t the feds, woman. I don’t fuck with them. I legitimately went to school and earned my degree. I’m good with computers, numbers, hacking, and all that good shit.”
Neicey wasn’t one hundred percent sure if he was telling her the truth, but there was no reason for him to lie. She did now understand why he called it being a detective. Hackers were undercover with their work, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Bryant and Dover knew his rap sheet. Surely, they had done their research on him. One thing about corporate business that some people didn’t know was that they were shadier than the illegal jobs. Companies schemed, robbed, and flourish however they could. Not all, but some.
“Well, congrats on the new position, Mr. Agaci,” she smirked.
“We’re on first name basis now, Shanice.”
“Neicey,” she said firmly. “Don’t call me Shanice.”
The tone of her voice was adamant. Only a select few could call her by her government. Dex hadn’t earned that right and most likely never would, but he didn’t have a problem with that.
“Aight, Neicey. So, what’s up. How you been? You still fine as a mufucka.” Dex openly admired her frame. From the top of her head down to where the edge of the desk stopped at her waist, he let his eyes roam appreciatively. While he got his stare on, Neicey was doing the same.