Page 89 of The Don's Virgin Obsession
One person asked if I was going to Vaughn’s birthday party at Club Gemini.
I laughed.
“That man don’t even like birthdays. Y’all celebrating somebody that probably wanna be left alone right now.”
That got people talking immediately.
I took another sip of tequila.
“Ain’t it funny how people make rich niggas seem healed just because they got money?”
More comments.
What happened? You being messy.
“I’m not being messy. I’m being honest. Everybody keep posting this polished businessman version of Vaughn. Y’all don’t know the infamous street nigga, V-Saint.”
I looked down at my nails before speaking again.
“That nigga used to do lines in his father’s penthouse bathrooms before meetings and go discuss business for hours.”
Comments exploded immediately.
She lying. No way. Coke??? Screen record this.
I laughed.
“See? That’s what I’m saying. Y’all don’t know him. Y’all know the version he sells.”
The views started climbing faster.
“He don’t sleep. He distracts himself. Women. Weed. Work. Money. Cars. Whatever keeps his mind busy.”
Somebody commented:You sound bitter.
I smirked.
“Bitter? Baby, I survived him.”
That made the comments go crazier.
I set my drink down and leaned closer toward the camera.
“Y’all calling him husband material, meanwhile, that nigga been obsessing over the same girl for years.”
The comments damn near stopped for a second.
Who???
Who???
Tea.
Wait what?
I laughed again.
“A certain little virgin interior designer got that man losing his fuckin mind. You can see her hugging him on his Instagram story.”
