Money Devils 1

by Ashley

These mu’fuckas on point, he thought to himself as he rubbed his hands together and blew in his fists.

  “So, you have access to a rig that can bring our packages onshore with no police checkpoints?” CJ said, repeating step by step what Mo had explained to him during the week.

  “That’s right. I have the access and the ability to get ’em in and move ’em out,” Sire said assuredly.

  “How confident are you in your system?” CJ asked, looking Sire right in the eyes, as if trying to see if he wavered. However, Sire returned the stare and spoke with confidence.

  “I’m locked in with the owner. It’s a flawless system. Under the rigs are submarines that are used for cargo. We could put our joints in there. The transport would be underwater. There are no police patrols underwater, feel me?”

  “What inside guy do you have on the rig?”

  “The owner,” Sire confirmed.

  “The owner? If he owns a rig, why would he want to get into trafficking blow? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “He’s one of us. He from the hood. A childhood friend that fell into a position. But at the end of the day … he owes me.”

  “Oh yeah?” CJ responded calmly as his mind began to churn.

  “Absolutely,” Sire answered.

  “And the logistics?” Polo chimed in, obviously wondering how this could run smoothly.

  “I have a team of women that are sharp. We can take care of everything. We just need the supply and it can get there safely.”

  “Women? That’s genius actually,” CJ agreed as he nodded, impressed.

  “Okay, so what about once the bricks get out of the water?” Polo asked.

  Sire slightly smiled. “That’s my game. I can handle as many as you can set on me. The streets have been dry for months. I have a Houston team and also a shop set up in Dallas. They just need me to come and push the go button. We can make ’em disappear.”

  “Mo,” CJ said as he looked past Sire and focused on his cousin who was sitting on the edge with his feet in the water.

  “Yeah?” Mo answered just before pulling the cloud of smoke into his lungs.

  “You say he solid, huh?” CJ asked.

  “My nigga right there a hunnid. I vouch for ’em for sho’,” Mo said positively, nodding his head in confirmation.

  CJ focused back on Sire. “A’ight, we gon to start light, just to see how it goes,” CJ agreed. He reached out his hand and shook Sire’s.

  “Bet. You won’t regret this,” Sire said, feeling inspired. He was finally in.

  “We gon start with one hundred joints,” CJ confirmed.

  Sire was blown away by the numbers.

  “A hundred?” Sire asked, making sure he heard him correctly.

  “You can handle that, right?” CJ double-checked.

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  “Bet. Fifteen a joint. Bring me back 1.5 and we can go from there,” CJ said as if they were talking about pennies. Sire felt like a little kid on the inside, filled with excitement. In all his years of hustling, he’d never seen more than ten bricks at a time or, better yet, been paid fifteen for each one. He did the math in his head and knew he had just become a street millionaire. It was time to turn the fuck up.

  CHAPTER 17

  Sutton lay in bed, tossing and turning as her mind ran wild. She hated that this was becoming personal for her. She hated that she thought of West, that worry about how the press conference had taken its toll on him was a concern of hers. She had set him up to fail; and once the drug bust on the rig happened, Sinclair Enterprises would come crashing down. She hadn’t expected to care this much. She wondered where West would land afterward. Did he need his privilege to be successful or was he naturally cunning? Did he have any resilience left in him or had he attained everything easily?

  She climbed out of bed and reached for her phone. She couldn’t even stop herself from dialing him.

  “It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

  His drowsy Southern drawl was raspy, full of sleep, but she was happy he didn’t sound irritated.

  “You were brilliant today,” she said.

  “As were you,” he replied, then groaned.

  “The party crashers were interesting. A gang of hood niggas from the Fifth Ward I’m sure will have the press speculating like crazy. I can’t wait to see the headlines tomorrow.” She wondered if he would be forthcoming about his involvement with Sire. “Did you know them?”

  “The oil spill affects everyone, not just the white people in the ’burbs. The hood deserves to be informed too. They count. I was glad to see them there. They might not fit the narrative, but they represent an underrepresented community,” West answered.

  Oh, this nigga is good, she thought.

  He had just finessed her with the most politically correct answer she had ever heard. West was smart. She understood how he had dodged the incriminating questions she had planted in the crowd.

  “Where did you disappear to today?” West asked.

  “Another client needed me,” Sutton lied.

  “There’s no other client when you’re working with me that takes priority over what we do together. They need to call someone else,” he said.

  “I can’t just ignore my Rolodex for you,” Sutton said, smiling.

  “I’ll pay your fee for whatever you’ll miss out on, but all that’s dead. I need your focus, Sutton,” West said.

  “You have it,” she whispered. “More than you even know, and I particularly don’t like it,” she admitted.

  “Slip on some clothes,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Leslie’s outside,” West said.

  “You know where I live?” she asked.

  “Human resources,” West answered.

  “That’s a little stalkerish.” Her tone was playful, but she worried some. She had never made herself accessible to clients in the past. She always covered all her bases. She hadn’t even used her home address on the tax paperwork she had submitted to Sinclair Enterprises when they partnered.

  He’s got some juice. He had me looked into.

  The thought both flattered and intimidated her. She had a feeling she had underestimated him. He was powerful and from the likes of the company he kept outside the boardroom, she was learning his reach went far beyond business deals. He was connected to the streets. It explained his dominance in every situation, even over her.

  The laugh they shared warmed Sutton and she shook her head because she couldn’t stop smiling.

  “I told you he’s your driver. When you need him, he’ll come, anytime.”

  “But I don’t need him,” she said.

  “Yeah, but I need you,” West replied.

  “I’m on the way.”

  It had been a long time since she had subjected herself to a “spend the night” bag, but somehow, she found herself packing all her essentials inside a Saint Laurent tote. She was out the door in ten minutes. She didn’t even put on clothes. She wore her silk robe beneath her trench coat with heels.

  “Ms. LaCroix,” Leslie greeted as he awaited her with the SUV door wide open.

  “Hi, Leslie,” she said. “Thank you.”

  She slid into the truck. Sutton tried to talk herself out of visiting this late the entire way to his place, but she never spoke the words. Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to a modern-styled home. “This is where he lives?” she asked.

  “This is it,” Leslie said. He exited and opened her door. “Shall I wait?”

  “No, I’ll call in the morning when I need you,” she said.

  She found herself at West’s door, second-guessing, regretting, nervous as hell until she rang the bell. He pulled open the door and then picked her up. She squealed as he carried her through his home.

  “West, put me down!” she shouted, laughing until he placed her on the kitchen counter.

  He placed fists on either side of her hips and leaned into her. Eye to eye, he admired her.

  “You have the worst staring pr
oblem,” she said.

  “I need you to help me out with something,” he answered.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met that I’ve had to pursue,” West stated.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” she asked.

  “I can’t lie. It’s rather frustrating,” he replied truthfully. “I’m a man that’s used to having what I want, when I want it.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “You,” he replied simply.

  “When do you want me?” she pressed.

  “All the time,” he said, pulling at the belt to her coat and leaning into her neck, planting kisses that made her thighs spread wide open. West slid into place. “I want you on this counter, in my bed, in the shower.” He groaned as he removed her coat, revealing the silk robe. Its sash came off next. “In the back of my car with the partition up, in my office on the desk. I want you everywhere, Sutton.”

  His hand slipped inside her bra. He flicked her nipple, rolling it between rough fingers, before lowering his lips to her areola.

  Her body anticipated the pleasure to come as he picked her up and carried her up the stairs toward his bedroom. They were locked in a kiss. Her trench coat and robe created a path on the floor.

  “West?”

  “Oh my God!” Sutton shouted as she jumped out of his arms, hiding behind West’s body to hide her lingerie. She thanked God he hadn’t gotten to that part yet.

  “Beamer, I thought you were asleep, kid,” he said as he thumbed his lips. Sutton wasn’t sure if he was wiping off her kisses or rubbing them in, but the way he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth told her he could taste her there. “You’re kind of breaking bro code right now.”

  “How was I supposed to know you were about to get laid?” Beamer asked.

  “Oh my God,” Sutton whispered again, mortified.

  “Are you going to introduce me?” Beamer asked.

  “Sutton, this is my little brother, Beamer. Beamer, this is Sutton,” West introduced.

  Sutton peeked from behind West, waving in embarrassment. The bandages stabbed her straight in the heart.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Beamer,” Sutton said.

  “Hey, Sutton and I were about to…”

  “Have sex?” Beamer asked.

  West snickered. “Before you broke up the vibe? Probably so, kid.” Sutton slapped West, reprimanding him, and he and Beamer laughed. “I think the moment has passed, however. I’m going to put on a movie. You down?”

  “Yeah!” Beamer shouted.

  “A’ight, cool,” West said. “Meet us in the theater room in ten minutes.”

  Beamer retreated to his room and West pulled Sutton into the master.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t alone?” she asked, covering her face.

  “He was supposed to be asleep,” West said, shaking his head and fighting the grin on his face. He moved to the drawers and pulled out a white T-shirt for Sutton. She slipped it over her head. “He just got out of the hospital. I picked him up after the conference,” he explained.

  “I’m glad he’s okay,” she whispered. Beamer was evidence of her sins and facing him only made it worse. “He will be okay, right?”

  “He’s been through three surgeries for skin grafts already. He has a lot more to go. The worst burns are on his back and legs. The burns on his face aren’t as severe. We’re paying the best doctors,” he explained.

  Sutton’s stomach hollowed out as she heard about the battle Beamer was fighting.

  “Beamer’s strong. He’s a fighter and whatever he can’t beat, I’ve got covered. He’ll be okay. He was really attached to his mom though. Losing her has been the hardest of it all,” West said. “It’s been hard on all of us. It’s a lot of death being handed out lately.”

  “Will he live with you, now?” Sutton asked.

  “I don’t know,” West answered. “August and I have to figure things out. Neither of us have lifestyles that accommodate a kid, especially one like Beamer. He’s autistic.”

  “Is he, really?” Sutton asked.

  “High functioning, but he has his moments where he has a hard time. When he’s overstimulated or overwhelmed. Abigail was the best with him during those moments. August and I have some adjusting to do, but we have to make it work. We’re all he has,” West said.

  “You really do love them, don’t you?” Sutton asked.

  “They’re my family,” West said.

  “And your biological family. Where are they?” Sutton asked.

  “That’s a discussion for another day,” West replied, diverting away from the subject. It only made her more curious. How had this black boy from the inner city come to be so indebted and in love with this prestigious, rich, white family? Sutton had to know.

  Her brow dented and her heart heavy, she reached for his face with one hand. “I really am sorry,” she whispered.

  “What is it about you?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, adding a second hand to the other side of his face. “It’s you. I’m only this way with you,” she replied.

  His hand slid down her back, gripping her ass as he stole her lips.

  “Hey, Sutton! You like chocolate or strawberry ice cream?”

  She turned to find Beamer there again.

  “What kind of question is that?” she asked. “Why choose, when you can have both?”

  “You’re a genius!” he shouted.

  Sutton laughed and followed Beamer out of the room, descending the stairs to the media room.

  She eyed him curiously. He eyed her back as one made assumptions about the other.

  “West, is this your girlfriend?” Beamer asked.

  West froze as he walked into the room.

  “We’re just friends, Beamer,” he answered as he took a seat beside her.

  Sutton wasn’t sure why she was disappointed with the response. She expected him to say more, despite the fact friendship was an overqualification for what they were.

  Sutton was a snake in his grass.

  Her disappointment was reflected in her eyes.

  “Is that the wrong answer?” West asked.

  Sutton shook her head. “No.”

  She settled in beside him, folding her hands across her chest.

  She was so irrational because she was here for all the wrong reasons, but still, she wanted to mean more to him than “friends.” She felt sorry for all the men who had ever tried to figure her out. She couldn’t even figure herself out.

  “Beamer, buddy, go get the snacks,” West instructed.

  Beamer nodded and as soon as he was out of earshot, West placed a finger to Sutton’s chin.

  “Hey,” West said, commanding her stare. “This thing can be as casual or as complex as you want it to be. You just got to let me know what time you’re on.” His kisses were like emotional Band-Aids, healing cuts he didn’t put there, injuries she had collected from years of dating the wrong men. It felt like she had stumbled across a good one and it turned out she was the one who was going to ruin it. Life was a bitch that way. To give her something she couldn’t keep, something she shouldn’t have even entertained, was worse than not ever having it at all.

  “This is more than friends, West,” she whispered.

  Beamer came back with as much junk food as he could carry and then he broke up their party, sliding his body right between them.

  Sutton laughed as he handed her a big bag of Cheetos.

  “Thanks, handsome,” she said. “What are we watching?”

  “Remember the Titans.” Both West and Beamer said it simultaneously and Sutton frowned in confusion.

  “It’s our favorite movie,” Beamer said. “We watch it every weekend. Ever since West was in college. We would go to his games then come home to watch it while he did his ice bath. It’s tradition. Right, West?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it, kid,” West replied.

  “You played college ball?” Sutton asked.


  “A long time ago,” he said.

  “He was supposed to go pro!” Beamer exclaimed.

  “Pro, huh? How’d you end up in a boardroom instead of on the field?” Sutton asked, reaching for the popcorn in Beamer’s bowl. She popped a handful into her mouth and then frowned.

  “Umm, Beamer, I think you spilled candy in there,” she said, chewing slowly at the odd combination of gummy bears, chocolate, and popcorn.

  “Nope. It’s on purpose,” Beamer said. West reached for a handful next, shaking up the contents in his hand like he was shaking a pair of dice before emptying the odd mixture into his mouth.

  “Another tradition,” he said.

  Sutton nodded, laughing. “You guys are weird. Tradition is blueberry pancakes on a Sunday morning. Not this!”

  “Can we watch the movie now?” Beamer asked. “We’re missing it!”

  Sutton snickered and settled in on her side of the plush sectional. Beamer leaned into her. Within half an hour, he was a goner.

  West snickered. “He never makes it to the end. I don’t think he’s ever seen the whole thing.”

  He stood and carefully moved Beamer’s bandaged legs to the couch as Sutton moved out of the way. She placed a throw blanket over his body.

  “He’s a really cool kid,” she said.

  “Yeah, he is,” West said.

  They crept out of the room and Sutton passed his office. She drifted inside where dozens of trophies lined glass shelves.

  “Wow, you really were good, huh?” she asked. “I’m trying to picture you in those tight football pants and a jersey instead of thousand-dollar suits.” She smiled.

  “You think you would have thrown pussy my way on the first night if I was in the NFL?” he asked.

  Sutton scrunched her face as her skin grew hot with embarrassment. “I would have fucked you on the rooftop,” she said.

  “I mean I got a rooftop deck. It’s not too late to make that happen,” West answered.

  “You wish.” Sutton snickered. “Why’d you stop playing?”

  “An injury ended my career.”

  “That explains the sports agency,” she said.

  “I love the game, just can’t play it anymore,” West said. “I enjoy the mental chess with the owners, though. The corporate side is where the most money is made but the passion of suiting up? Nothing can compare to that.”