Page 2 of Trading Places

“That we do. Your office, right?”

I stand up as he disappears into the crowd, not even waiting for me. I adjust my pink, long-sleeved body-con dress that has the girls sitting pretty, hugs my curvy frame, and shows off my legs. My thick thighs rub together as I hold my head up high.

My heels click against the hardwood floor as I squeeze through the sea of people, laughing and drinking. I head straight to his office.

Opening the door, I glance down to see him already sitting on the couch. He’s scrolling through his phone.

The office space is dimly lit by dark purple LED lights. I close the door behind me. “Uh, I’ve been waiting all night for you,” I say, pointing at him.

The music turns into just bass.

“I had to make sure shit was straight.”

I sit on the couch and let out a deep sigh. The cushions are so soft against my back. It’s already been a long day since I was up late last night changing my FB ads to make sure the targeting was right for tonight’s event to sell the last couple of tickets.

He pulls out the blunt and pats his pocket.

I reach into my bra, grabbing my lighter. I scooch over and flick my pink glitter lava lighter. My eyes widen as the tip glows.

“Thanks, Pinkie.”

We make eye contact as he takes a deep inhale.

“I told your ass not to call me that,” I groan, shaking my head.

He exhales and passes it to me.

I snatch it, taking two deep puffs, and exhale. Smoke hangs in the air and the clouds rise to the ceiling.

“I’ll call your ass whatever I want,” he says, stroking his full beard with that sexy ass gray patch in the middle.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s another packed house again. Three weeks in a row. I want my cut.”

“You know I got you. You’ll get it.”

I roll my eyes. “Nigga, please. You still owe me from last week.” I hold my hand out, anyway.

“Look, Montrell wouldn’t have done this shit if I hadn’t convinced him.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it was my idea.”

“That you came up with while smoking my weed,” he taunts me.

I press my lips together. “Whatever, nigga,” I say, waving my hand. “Don’t blow my high.” I lean back against the couch and take the blunt from him again.

“This should be enough for both weeks.” He shakes his head with a sneer before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a stack of money. He places it in my hand exactly where it belongs.

The weight of the knot and crisp bills feels good in my hand. I reach over and stuff it into my Chanel chain purse. “Thank you. Montrell’s selfish ass would never pay me. Even though I know product is being moved as we speak.”

“It is, but don’t worry about him. You know I’ma always take care of you.”

I take another inhale and choke. His words run right through me and straight between my legs. Making my clit throb. He’d better stop talking to me like that.

“I don’t need anyone to do that,” I snap. My body is lighter, and I lean back against the couch pillow. I turn my body and put my legs in Drey’s lap.

His hand rests on my shin and he rubs it. “You better stop before your nigga catches you.” He holds the smoke in his mouth for a moment before blowing it out.

“Don’t worry about him.” I sit up and move into his lap. I grab the blunt and blow it into his mouth.