Page 47 of K.I.N.: Karma Is Near

A woman’s voice came from the hallway behind the bar.

“Why the fuck I hear Xavier this early?”

I looked over.

Kiana.

Kiana had been running shit around Freckles for almost two years.

Badder than a motherfucker.

Thirty-eight years old and still walked into a room like every bitch in it needed to tighten the fuck up.

Kiana wasn’t thick.

She was slim-thick.

Small waist. Flat stomach. Hips sitting right. Her ass was definitely bought, and she ain’t give a fuck who knew it. Not one of them ridiculous diaper-looking asses that entered the room five minutes before the woman did.

Hers fit her.

Titties were fake too.

Nice ones.

She had on fitted black pants, a white bodysuit tucked inside them and black heels like she wasn’t about to spend the next ten hours walking through a three-story club handling everybody else’s problems.

Her hair was long, black and straight down her back.

Face beat.

Long red nails.

Gold hoops.

Sexy as fuck.

And she knew it.

Me and Kiana have fucked plenty of times before.

I knew exactly what she was working with.

But that wasn’t why she was my house manager.

Kiana knew this fucking club.

She knew which girls showed up late.

Who was behind on house fees.

Who had beef.

Who needed to be separated.

Which bartender’s drawer kept coming up short.

Which regular customer liked what section.