Handling Business

Nut

These niggas got me and my baby fucked up, on my mama.

Choc not much of a crier. She real hardbody, just like her crazy ass best friend that’s in my passenger seat. Do she even work?

Anyway, so when I’m breezing through the sun room, on a mission to get a quickie in before my lil nigga gets home from boxing, and I see her on the couch crying, I was ready to go on a killing spree.

The only time Choc should be crying is when she telling me I’m fucking her too good.

Apparently, one of the managers at this fancy ass hotel she just has to have our reception at tried to belittle her, tryna say our Black dollars ain’t worth shit.

Yeah, but these Black bullets gone be priceless.

I handled her, giving her tears of joy, then I told her I’d handle them. She tried to get me to promise muthafuckas wouldn’t die today, but I don’t make promises I may not keep.

Whatever, this ain’t the first time she done hit me with the silent treatment. I know how to handle that, too.

“You know, you remind me of my godbrother. I miss him.” Mace looks out the window and rubs her growing belly.

Mind you, it’s a Tuesday afternoon. And she acting like she don’t have shit to do.

“Do they be paying you? You never at work bro.”

She smirks at me. “I’m here chaperoning you. Full day’s salary to make sure you don’t end up in jail, and four hours overtime if no one gets hurt. I’m not tripping on the overtime though. She deserves the perfect wedding, even if that means you break someone’s nose.”

“I don’t need no fucking chaperone. Besides, last month I was bailing you out!”

She just shrugs and starts tapping on her phone. “That’s what I said, but apparently I’m the only one who can reel you in. Besides, you started this adventure when you first showed me her ring. Why not all the wedding hijinks be us?”

I smirk at her as we pull into the valet. “You just like hanging with a nigga. You said I remind you of yo godbrother. It’s cool; everyone loves P-Nutty.”

She rolls her eyes, mumbling before getting out and slamming my door. She ain’t deny it though.

I pull her little ass by her neck like she Denver to the concierge desk. My four-thousand dollar tailored bespoke suit got me looking like Rico Suave foreal, and these forty-five hundred dollar authentic crocodile loafers are rubbing against my pinky toes, but I look the part of the COO of BirchTree Nightlife. I gotta tell my stylist–Brina–to go up a size on the shoes, though.

I give the concierge a tight-lipped smile and clear my throat. “Hello. Patrick Rivera. I have a one o’clock with Mr. Bronstein.”

Macy does a double take at my professional voice, and I cut my eyes at her.

The concierge flutters her stiff ass eyelash extensions and leans over slightly, tryna show me her titties. I sigh, knowing Choc gone text me any second now, unless she in a meeting. I don’t know how she be knowing but every time a bird try to fly my way she be on my line expeditiously. I think Shad gave her a program or something.

“Yes. You can take the elevator to the fifth floor. Someone will be there to greet you.”

I nod to her and gesture for Mace to follow me. We’re barely out of earshot when she says, “When the hell you learn to code switch like that?”

I roll my eyes and push the call button for the elevator. “I feel like that shit ingrained in us from jump. Once me and Turk started moving in different rooms, we had to switch it up. At least when the timing permits it. The charm and the threads and my business gone get us in the right room today, watch.” 

We get on the elevator and I hit the button for the fifth floor. Some other people file on, but we’re the first to get off.

There’s a young dude as soon as we get off, shaking like a leaf, waiting for us. He sweating too hard for me to shake his hand, so I give him a pound, and his confused ass leads us to a conference room.

The Director of Event Management. The nigga who is begging us for a contract is also the nigga who told my baby they couldn’t accomodate her. And also the first nigga I see. Mr. Bronstein head ass.

Oh, aight.

When we walk in, the owner of this bullshit hotel, Titan Farrell, stands up. The Farrells have owned this bougie ass hotel since Kenton became a town. Titan’s mama, though, is South Kenton through and through, so Titan’s ass would be slumming it with his mama side of the family during the summer, and I even heard he a card carrying crip. He’s older than me, so we weren’t ripping and running during the same time, but recognition still flashes in his eyes when I walk up.

The slimy director nigga gets up, too.

“Mr. Rivera! You’re a hard man to get a hold of,” he says.

“For a reason.” 

The nigga don’t know what to say to that, so he just turns to his boss. “Mr. Rivera, this is Titan Farrell, owner of the Olympus Resort.”

I shake the nigga hand but his eyes have been on Macy this whole time.

Oh, brother.

“And who is this beautiful woman?” his deep ass voice rumbles. Nigga sound like Barry White.

Macy looks up from her phone and bats them damn eyelashes. She comes over and holds her hand out, letting him take it and bring it to his mouth. “Macy Davenport. I’m sure the pleasure’s all yours.”

“It certainly is.”

I grab Macy by her neck and pull her on the other side of me. “Sit yo ass down,” I whisper in her ear.

“Fine,” she says loudly, and plops down on a seat.

I sit down next to her, while they take their own seats across from us.

“To be honest, we’d been wanting to collaborate on a club here for over a year with no call back. I’m curious as to why you set this meeting, and so urgently.”

Oh, Titan don’t hold back.

Good.

“To be honest, it got overlooked. We haven’t been focusing on buying or building any more clubs, so that’s my bad. But something else put y’all on my radar that caused me to personally come see ‘bout y’all.”

“Oh?” Titan asks, sitting up.

So shit, I sit up, too.

“Yeah. See, me and my better half are getting married. She wanna take pictures and have the reception here, in the Underworld Room. She really into Greek mythology, and swear I’m the Hades to her Persephone. Happy wife, happy life, so I told her call y’all up. Black owned, and money is no option, so it should be straight.

“Imagine my surprise when my baby tells me the Director of Events Management himself tells her, and I quote, ‘we don’t have room for a ghetto fest here. Take that to The End of the Line Motel off Proctor.’” I stare right at that muthafucka, who’s finna fall out.

Titan, though, his eyes stay on me.

“I just know no muthafucka is insane enough to speak like that to a stranger, a woman, my woman. I wasn’t tryna accuse my lady of lying, but I needed facts. Since I knew someone was finna die. I asked her if she mentioned she was Dallas Weems, Financial Director of the Collective Financial Group, she said yup. Then I asked if she said she was marrying the COO of BirchTree Nightlife, she said the muthafucka laughed so hard he prolly farted.

“So then, I asked, did she say she was P-Nutty from Foe Dub’s better half. And you know she told me the nigga hung up in her face? Now, I don’t know if you married or what, Titan, but when the lady I love, who I’m planning the rest of my life with, tells me a muthafucka had the nerve to disrespect her like that, I get downright feral.”

I fold my hands in my lap and lean back in the chair.

Titan licks the top row of his teeth and cuts his eyes to the director nigga before focusing back on me. “How can we make this better, Nutty?”

I grin, showing my open-faced fangs. He on that type of time? Maybe this place ain’t as bougie as I thought.

“Well, my lady sent her best friend with me to make sure I don’t hurt anyone… tell you what? If the Underworld Room is available June fifteenth, with a bride and groom suite, too, and that the muthafucka cries as much as my baby did, I’ll feel like I don’t have to lie to her, and this one can get her money.”

“Well, you heard the nigga, Tim. Is the room open that day or what?” Titan sounds like the devil himself, calm and cool as ever. While Tim taps away on his iPad, Titan turns toward Macy, hard face softening instantly. “A woman like you should never have to work.”

“You’re so sweet, but I’m with child,” Macy sighs while cradling her belly. “Besides, I can’t have you skip the line when you can’t even keep your employees in line and from hurting my bestie.”

“Umm, t-the Underworld Room is open that day,” Tim squeaks.

“Good.” Titan turns so fast I almost don’t see it, but I fasho hear the muted gunshot and Tim clutching his knee in pain.

The three of us stand, and Titan shakes my hand. “I’ll be handling your reservation personally, Nutty, and tell your lady I apologize sincerely. This shit will be handled.”

“Fasho. And when I come back from my honeymoon, we can meet with my partner about that nightclub here. Sounds lit.”

Titan smirks and nods before turning to Macy. “You still think I don’t have my shit on lock, beautiful?”

Macy shrugs and starts backing out of the room. “Still not letting you skip the line, mister.”

“Ease up, nigga,” I say when she’s out of earshot, “I’on know if you can handle my sis.”

That nigga ain’t stopped looking out the door she walked out of. “Man, cuz, she just what I need.”

I just shake my head. Boy head gone just like the rest of ‘em.

Meanwhile, when I finally make it to valet, she on facetime with none other than PC ass. She tries to hurry off when the car pulls up, but I peep it. I help her crazy ass in and then round the car so I can drop her off at her actual job.

“You know Titan already found me on IG? Armand’s gonna be maaaad.”

“You a mess. And technically, you the reason that nigga got hurt, so make sure you mention that, so I’m not in the doghouse… and don’t tell Choc about this, either; I wanna be the one to tell her.”

Mace rolls her eyes. “If I don’t say shit at all, she gone know you got the room.”

“You right. You not going to work. It’s time to get the kids anyway.” I bust a bitch, making some cars honk at me.

“Macy and Peanut, strike again! Planning the wedding of the decade! You gone get that wingette bar she been talking about?” Macy beams at me as she dances in her seat.

I glance at my sis, smirking as I get on the expressway toward Thunder Hills.

If Choc wanted the moon at our wedding, I’d pull that shit here to Earth myself. A wingette bar from her favorite wing spot ain’t nothing.