Page 108 of Stay Dangerous

The passenger door of the car opened, and long legs brought her onto the curb. Thick makeup covered every single one of her freckles, but it didn’t look caked on. Nah, Wynter couldn’t look bad on her worst day, even if she was an evil ice cold bitch.

Her hair was platinum blonde, cut low as hell on either side into a mohawk. The middle of her hair was in a ponytail that went to her ass. She had to have been out all night, since she was in an oversized Versace shirt and some boots that laced up to her thighs.

“You talked to her lately?” Fredo asked, reminding me I wasn’t alone.

“Nigga have you?”

She opened the back door to the car and grabbed an oversized LV duffel bag. The driver’s door opened and a nigga popped out. Flashy and short; prolly from the west side. West Kenton niggas acted like they had real money, when everyone knew them niggas was scamming.

“Yeah. We talk here and there. Just making sure she straight. She into some shit–”

“I’on too much care, Fred.”

She placed the duffel on the trunk and wrapped her arms around the nigga. He did the same, palming her ass. But when he went in for a kiss, she moved her face at the last minute, making him kiss her cheek.

I smothered a smirk.

“You sure about that?”

I heard the amusement in Fredo’s voice and ignored him. It had only been two years since Wynter left Autumn at that party to get kidnapped, but they all forgot. They had to, since no one could know she was the one who put a hole in the head of the Birch Babies’ leader. So eventually, Turk stopped ignoring her. Haze would get into moods where she’d kiss her ass. Fredo clearly still checked in.

Not me.

Fuck Wynter Snow.

Sneaky. Liar. No loyalty. Manipulative.

Rule Number One is to trust no bitch. A bitch like her is why that rule exists.

They dislodged from their hug and the nigga got back in the car. His license plate read WAVYYYY, so I guessed that was his name. Clown.

Turk came outside, pulling on a skully since he decided to grow locs like Shad. Wynter turned to him and nodded, before grabbing the duffel and walking into her house.

Not a glance into my whip.

I unlocked the doors as Turk got to my whip.

“You know that bag she got is full of cash?” Turk asked.

I peeled off toward downtown. “What you mean?”

“Wyn hooked up with some west side crips and she been running it the fuck up. I’m talking, she gave me ten racks towards a new roof for Paradise. She got enough to throw away ten G’s, then you know she stacking major paper.”

“And yo ass just took it, huh?” I gritted, choking out my steering wheel.

“Hell yeah, the fuck?! That place is hemorrhaging money, Dub. The ladies don’t wanna come to work if the floor and ceiling got holes in it. She came through in a major way, so I’ma take it and any jokes that came with it.”

“What she say?”

Turk grunted. “Her ass gon’ say she can’t have the ceiling leaking and Auty break her neck tryna twerk. I told her lanky ass to come back when she get some rhythm.”

“Fuck her,” I grumbled, before Fredo changed the subject.

The parking lot to the old teen club Turk, Set, and Peanut bought was half-full by the time we got there. Much like Paradise, Palace needed work, too.

Nut’s drills for Foe Dub involved renovating it.

Soon as we walked in, there was gloves, paint, and wood by the back entrance. Sean was chasing G and Slime was some paint, and Nut slapped him over the head as he rolled up on us.