Page 31 of Own It

Shaking my head as I dried my hands and left the bathroom, I paused upon seeing the laptop sitting on the bed.

“What’s that?” I quizzed, coming closer.

“So you can check on yo’ shit. A nigga ain’t gotta warn you to keep shit business only, right?” He cocked his head, and I shook my own, masking it as my answer when really I was disappointed in how alluring I found every mannerism of his.

“Nope. All business, sir. I promise.” I winked at him, half smiling, but I dropped it when I noticed him taking me in seriously.

Seemingly catching himself, he said, “Cool.” Then, he walked off toward the desk to kick it while I handled my business.

I checked my sales, which were doing great, then answered some emails from my staff asking where I was or other questions about certain products, then I shot an email to Morgin stating I had a family emergency which was the reason for my absence. I knew her ass was too self-centered to even ask what the emergency was, and I guessed I was thankful for that at the moment.

Looking over the laptop screen, I spotted Rakim fixing a thread on his boxing glove.

“You like to box?” I asked, feigning ignorance as to who he used to be.

When he told me he knew that I recognized him, I wasn’t sure if he meant from his boxing career, Ayan’s party, or his sensational murder of Judd Jenkins.

“I do,” he answered shortly.

“Why didn’t you become a pro like your brother?” I pushed the ignorance envelope a little further.

He chuckled a bit, presumably at my lack of knowledge on him, and said, “I did, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to last.”

“How so?” I closed the laptop, intrigued to hear what happened from the source himself instead of the internet articles.

Rakim parted his lips but then caught himself, leaning up off the desk and moseying toward me to grab the laptop.

“You done?”

“I am.” I nodded my head, bummed at the fact that he wasn’t going to delve any further. “Thank you again.”

“You straight.” He nodded then started to turn but halted his steps. “I apologize for being aggressive with you earlier. That ain’t me. I ain’t the nigga that presses women, especially over words. Despite that, I won’t allow you or anyone else to disrespect me, regardless of ya fucking gender. Today is the first and last time you’ll get a pass on calling me a bitch.”

“Meaning if I call you one right now, it will be fine since it’s today?” I jested, and when he smirked before licking his lips, I was so surprised I was speechless. I bet his actual smile was just as beautiful as him.

“Take yo’ ass to sleep, Mike Epps.” He shook his head, gathering the laptop, his boxing gloves, and turning off the lamp.

He left behind the pleasant smell of his cologne that acted as a lullaby, peppering the air so that it caused me to drift off to sleep with a small smile on my face.

EIGHT

rakim

SOME TIME LATER . . .

“He give you any problems?” I asked Zaire.

“Nah. Just told him what was going on and that if he made any noise about the shit, he was dead,” he replied as I nodded, happy with the outcome.

I’d sent Zaire to chop it up with Shaun to make sure he didn’t try to do too much in order to find or free his girl. I wasn’t sure if or what Dr. Conrad told his ass, so I couldn’t be sure what the nigga knew or didn’t know.

From looking into him, I saw he was a low-level hustler, doing shit I was doing at the age of fourteen when my pops would choose to go lay up with whatever flavor of the month he’d encountered while boxing all over the country, leaving my mama to handle four boys and the bills we’d accumulated. By saying that, it was highly unlikely that a muthafucka like Shaun would be up in somebody’s police department snitching, but one could never be too sure. And I liked to have my bases covered at all fucking times.

“’Preciate that. Keep an eye on that nigga though,” I said, and Zaire nodded before slapping hands with me and exiting my whip, heading inside to watch Daylin while I ran some errands.

Zaire was chosen to do the job with Shaun because it was more likely that he and Shaun would have a simple conversation, versus me going and it ending in bloodshed. I had my days where I was chill, relaxed, didn’t do too much, but there were occasions where I’d put a bullet in a muthafucka just for talking crazy.

Additionally, though I didn’t truly give a fuck if my identity was revealed, same time, I wouldn’t go out of my way to reveal myself as Daylin’s kidnapper. Therefore, Zaire handling this shit in particular was just a better choice overall. I also remembered Daylin mentioning that her nigga and father weren’t exactly cool, so I doubted Shaun would be running to the doctor to alert him to Zaire’s identity. Shit, if he was smart, he was too scared to.