Page 4 of A Minute Past Midnight

“Niggas in there using fake money.”

“They still there?”

“According to Chantel, they are. Spending big too.”

“Anissa!” I called out to the flight attendant.

“Yes, Mr. Frost?”

“How long before they open the door?”

“Five more minutes, sir.” I nodded. “Do you need anything else, sir?”

“No. Thank you.”

She nodded and walked off. I sighed in frustration. It seemed as though, tonight, motherfuckas wanted to tap dance on my nerves. First Forever’s funky ass, now broke, bum niggas wanted to play with me.

“You know I’ma take care of it, brodie. Don't even stress. Get home and get you some rest.”

I shook my head. “Going home is the last thing I’m doing. I honestly don't have a home. I already had Terri book me a room at the Marriott.”

“So, this is really happening?” he asked, referring to my and Forever’s divorce.

“Has to, bro. I can't do it no more.”

He gave a curt nod and focused back on his phone.

I wished it wasn't happening. My parents had been married for thirty-nine years. I’d only witnessed them arguing maybe three times, but by the end of the day, they made sure not to go to bed angry. Moms made my pops feel at peace and he made sure she felt loved.

We didn't have a lot growing up. That's how I ended up getting in bed with the Aldana Family. I did so well running packages for them that they gave me my own turf and supplied me with whatever I needed, just as long as they got their cut.

When I was ready to transition, they gave me a buyout number and sent me on my way. I bought the nightclub first, took classes at Emery's school to get my architectural degree, saved up more money, then opened my firm.

Now, eight years later, I was a multimillionaire with a multimillion-dollar company, who employed over forty people, including my nightclub.

All I ever wanted was a loving, loyal wife, and five kids at minimum.

I thought I would have had that, but that dream deferred a long time ago.

Now, I was preparing for a divorce I never wanted but had no choice but to accept.

“That's them right there,” Cornell said, pointing to the group of niggas in the corner booth of the VIP section. Bottles on bottles of Ace of Spades on ice sat on their tables while they had a multitude of women surrounding them.

My jaw ticked as I watched them from my office partake in my alcohol and food they purchased with fake money.

I had Dime, my manager, bring the money they spent to me and burned a bill just to make sure it was a fluke. Sure enough, the money burned a rainbow color leaving me malevolent and ready to air that whole section out.

“Take them to the special room. Tell them it’s compliments of the owner. Make sure you give them another bottle of Ace with the special. Let's make sure they have a night they would want to forget.”

“You got it, boss.” Cornell gave a slight bow and left my office.

I rarely ever had to get violent these days, but when people wanted to do fuck shit like play in my face, I had no choice but to show my ass.

The seven men were about to see just how crucial I could be when being disrespected.

I grabbed my gun off my desk and tucked it in my waistband once I saw that Cornell had led the men to my soundproof VIP lounge that was reserved for important people only.

Heading out of the office, I went down to the bar to buy time for them to get good and comfy, before I handled them, and told Lisa to pour me a drink. My eyes perused the club making sure nothing seemed out of the ordinary.