I didn’t want him less because he had women.
I wanted himdifferently.
And I hated myself just enough for knowing the difference.
“So,” he said, finally pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. “You ain’t come over here for small talk.”
“No,” I agreed. “I came to make you an offer.”
His mouth twitched. “That so?”
“Yes.”
I opened my notebook and laid it flat on the table.
“This,” I said, tapping the page, “isn’t a hustle. It’s a partnership.”
He leaned forward, forearms on the table now.
“Talk.”
“I don’t want to be one of your girls,” I said plainly. “And I don’t want to be an employee.”
“Good,” he replied. “I don’t mix business and pussy.”
That should’ve offended me, but surprisingly it didn’t.
“I want equity,” I continued. “Decision-making power and the anonymity that we discussed at the deli.”
“Are you sure about the anonymity?” he repeated.
“Yes. I don’t need visibility. I need access.”
“To what?” he asked.
I smiled.
“Distribution,” I said. “Your cover and clean routes.”
He studied me carefully now.
“You talking big,” he whistled.
“I’m talking prepared,” I corrected. “I already have runners lined up on my campus. They don’t know who I am. They don’t know you exist. They move product, thinking they’re doing favors for my friend, Miles.”
He leaned back slowly.
“And supply?” he asked.
“I have contacts,” I said. “Not yours. Mine.”
He stared at me, something like surprise flickered across his face.
“You’ve been sitting on this,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And you waited until now to say something.”