Page 19 of Trading Places

“You the one that brought her into this shit to begin with. I told you no at first.”

“Look, let’s go to my house and smoke a blunt. You just uptight, baby,” Zari says, rubbing my shoulders and kissing me.

“Zari, you got me doing crazy shit, and I gotta keep my head on straight. You ain’t the type to visit a nigga when they on the inside, anyway.”

“You ain’t getting locked up. We’d run away together before I let that happen,” she says, kissing me.

I grab her waist, pulling her close to me. “You’d run away with me, baby?”

“You know I would… as soon as you take that strap,” she whispers, placing her hand on my chest.

“Gone head with that shit, mama,” I say, kissing her forehead. Her peach scent hits me.

“You gonna like it,” Zari says.

“Your freaky ass is crazy. Go to my spot. I’ll be there in a minute,” I say, reaching into my pocket. I give her my spare key.

“Ooo… I guess second baby mama gets perks,” she says, jangling the keys.

I smack her ass. “Damn right.”

She walks out of the room, and I groan. What the hell am I going to do for a week? This shit gonna drive me crazy. I’m sure Von is gonna take over everything.

This is exactly what his ass wants, but I ain’t going out like this.

Chapter 9

Zari

I light a candle on Drey’s black-and-gold-trimmed dresser and stare into the flame. It dances back and forth, and I wish it’d give me an answer.

The sweet vanilla scent hits me immediately.

What am I going to do? I’m not sure how I’ll tell Kye she’s out of the business.

I sit on the edge of the spacious king-size bed. About half the size of mine, but I’ve enjoyed being at his spot. I stare at the key he gave me on his dresser.

I lay back on the bed against the silk pillows. The ceiling fan spins, and my stomach rumbles. The cool AC brushes against my almost bare skin. One thing about him: he keeps it cold in here even though it’s fall.

I know Drey has to wrap shit up with the club, but I miss him. My face warms at the fact, and heat rushes down to my neck.

I’m here wearing barely anything, hoping tonight will finally be our night. A moment I’ve been thinking about since I first started working with him.

I thought tonight was a success, but Montrell ain’t having it. Which means we gotta dead all that shit.

I hold my phone and grip it tightly, and stare at Kye’s contact. There’s no way I can tell her over a text message, and I’m sure she’s drunk, so I don’t need that girl spazzing out.

Nor do I need her drunk ass running off at the mouth to our father.

Because if that nigga finds out what’s really going on, shit will go left real quick. It’s not like I can go to my mother and tell her.

She’s beyond over the drug lifestyle. All she’s been talking about is once I get married, he’s leaving the game. So this wedding is kinda symbolic for her. I figured that’s why she’s so excited and has taken over helping the coordinator with planning.

She hates that my dad is still involved, ten years too late for her.

It’s so bittersweet because I do care so much about Anthony; we’ve been best friends since we were little kids. We’ve always had each other’s back, but our situation is complicated. Something most people wouldn’t understand, and my dad can’t find out the truth.

The bedroom door opens, snapping me out of my thoughts, and Drey stands there shirtless, just with his jeans on.