Page 88 of Own It

“It is. I swear.” She nodded profusely, and I studied her to see if I could detect any artifice in her body language.

“Aight.” I retrieved my iPhone. “Give me ya number.”

She immediately read it off, and I called it so she could have mine.

“Got it.” She waved her phone.

“Where you staying? You not homeless or no shit like that, right?”

“No. I have an apartment in Hawthorne.”

“Shoot me ya address. I wanna help you, but we gotta be sure that’s my family you carrying before I do all that because I won’t hesitate to put you in the ground for a fucking hoax, especially one involving my dead brother. You understand?”

“I do.” She sniffled, staring up at me.

“Meantime, hit me if you need something.” I went to open the door to the waiting room so she could exit.

This was some shit.

Once I saw Téa off, I continued on with my initial plans for the day but couldn’t forget about the shit I’d just learned. I truly prayed I didn’t have to smoke that girl for playing with me, but I knew myself and knew I would if I found out this was some type of fucking scheme she’d set up.

Stopping by some place named Cava, I read off the order I had in my notes then paid once everything was put together.

Since being split, Daylin and I chopped it up on the phone every night and every morning, and during one of those conversations, she’d told me that her favorite spot to get lunch from was this Cava shit.

Acting as if I were simply making conversation, I asked what was good there, and she ran down her whole fucking order. I then questioned how she could eat all that and go back to work, knowing she would give me the time she usually went to lunch in order to explain how she was able to fight what niggas called itis.

Now that I had her food, I pulled up to her warehouse, smirking at the fact that this was where I’d snatched her ass up.

Gathering her food and some flowers, along with a bank bag, I stepped out the car and made my way up to the heavy metal door, pressing the red button beside it.

“Hello?” The voice of a pure LA hood rat poured through, seemingly scarring my fucking ears since I expected to hear Daylin.

“It’s Rakim,” I said.

Silence lingered before the door came open, and I spotted a girl with a somewhat familiar face, but I couldn’t place the shit. I must’ve seen her in passing somewhere and paid the shit no real mind, because my memory was fleeting and spotty when it came to her.

“Heyyy.” She purred, poking her hip out in the tiny ass shorts that showed the imprint of everything. “I’m Morgin.” She stretched her hand out.

“How you doing? I’m looking for Daylin.” I kept it polite but didn’t oblige her handshake, hoping she’d pick up on the fact that I was more than uninterested.

“Oh.” She sort of jerked back out of surprise. “One second. Come in though.”

I trailed her into the humungous ass room flowing with air conditioning and shelves upon shelves of fucking phone cases. Daylin’s branding was everywhere, and I admired the way she had this shit running, people off to the side packaging up orders in an assembly line.

Daylin stepped out of her office, and her face lit up at the sight of me, causing me to let out a fucking sigh of relief. For some reason, I was on edge, wondering if she would change her mind about us the more time we stayed separate. However, I’d rather her do it now than do it after I got down on one knee or some shit.

“Thank you, Morgin.” Daylin spoke as soon as she walked up to me since old girl was still standing there as if we were about to have a three-way conversation.

“Oh shit, my bad.” Morgin eyed me, seemingly sending a signal that said she would let me fuck if that was what I wanted, before flipping around and switching off, her ass hanging inappropriately out of her shorts. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to see you yet.” Daylin beamed up at me before I kissed her.

“I know, but I couldn’t help it, baby.”

She smiled, and we kissed some more, right in front of all her employees while whoever Morgin was watched like a fucking hawk from behind a laptop.

“Come on. It’s just my lunchtime.” She checked her Rolex, still wearing the other pieces I’d bought her as well.

I followed Daylin to her office, letting the sway of her hips in the tight ass jeans she wore hypnotize a nigga. Though in a tube top and fucking jeans with her curly hair piled on top of her head, she was the baddest. Old girl with her ass hanging out needed to take a few notes.