Page 15 of A Kingpin’s Weakness

“Old nigga can’t get his own section like the rest of us,” Rich muttered, not even trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

He still had a sour taste in his mouth from that meeting the other night.

Rich never really fucked with Ronnie. Honestly, nobody did but me, and even I had my limits.

Ronnie used to be my pops’ right hand. After Pops passed, Ronnie kept me afloat, kept me safe, and made sure our name held weight. I respected that.

But lately? Lately, he’d been moving reckless, sloppy, and entitled.

“Let him in, Benny,” I finally said, waving toward security.

Ronnie stumbled through the ropes, eyes low and pupils blown wide. Definitely high. Probably drunk too.

“What up, Seth?” he said, pulling me in for a dap. “Southside, you brought the whole damn city out tonight!”

“Tell the nigga happy G-day,” Rich snapped. “You all in his section.”

“Yeah, my bad. Happy G-day, Southside, for real.” Ronnie nodded, then turned to Rich. “Aye, Rich, let’s dead that shit from the other night. We all supposed to be family.”

“You can live another day,” Rich said flatly, sipping his drink without breaking eye contact.

I stood up and motioned for Ronnie to follow me toward the edge of the section. “Aye, let me holler at you real quick.”

If Stormi wasn’t gonna tell me what that hospital conversation was about, I’d get it outta him. Ronnie followed, weaving a little as we walked.

“What’s up, baby boy?” he asked, eyes red and slow. The man was gone.

“Stormi. At the hospital. What y’all talked about.”

He shrugged like it wasn’t shit. “You know how big sisters get. Always trying to fix their little brothers’ mess.”

“What mess?”

“I mean, Noah still owe me money. Larose and them still want them drugs delivered. So it’s a mess.”

“Then why haven’t you handled that?”

“I am handling it.”

“So, what Stormi got to do with anything?”

I was already annoyed. My jaw clenched when I saw where his eyes drifted; straight to her.

Stormi was dancing with Ari and them, her hips moving to the beat, ass bouncing in that white dress that hugged her too damn right.

She looked unreal. Too good. That dress was going in the trash as soon as she took it off.

Every man in this section knew better than to stare. They saw who she came with. But Ronnie. He was locked in like he forgot how to blink.

“You see something you like?” I asked him, my voice dropping.

He chuckled, still watching her. “Shit, Stormi’s sexy ass. Can’t believe she came from Jo.”

I stepped closer. “Stormi’s spoken for.”

“By who? Jo and Noah said she single.”

“Me.”

Ronnie let out a slow whistle. “Oh, you claiming that now, young blood?”

I didn’t answer.

“What’s your business with Stormi?”

He looked at me and shrugged. “She offered to pay off her brother’s debt.”

I didn’t like that. Not one bit.

“You had her thinking that was her responsibility?” I asked, my voice hardening.

“She said she’d handle it.”

“Dead that shit, Ronnie. That’s your fuck-up, not theirs. You put Noah in that position. You deal with it.”

He gave me a look, something between regret and defiance. But I wasn’t going to argue with him; not here, not now. I had said what I said. Ronnie had forgotten who’s really in control now.

“Aye, this one for the ladies!” the DJ shouted, right before Glorilla’s new song “Typa” dropped and shook the damn club walls. As soon as that bass hit, the women went wild and so did the energy.

Even Stormi. My lady decided to bend over right there in the middle of the section and throw that thick ass like she didn’t know every man in this bitch had eyes.

Her white dress lifted just enough to make every nigga in the room forget they had women.

But all I saw was her. All I ever saw now was her.

Of course, Ronnie's thirsty ass didn’t miss it. His eyes went straight to her like clockwork.

“It’s dead, Seth,” he said suddenly, catching the death glare I gave him.

I didn’t respond at first. I was too busy imagining what it would feel like to put a bullet through his damn skull for disrespecting me with his eyes.

“You got you a bad one, young blood,” he added, like I didn’t already know.

I turned toward him slow, my voice cool but sharp enough to slice through steel. “Yeah. Just remember who she belongs to.”

Ronnie held up his hands and backed off. “You got it,” he muttered to my back.

But I was already gone mentally. I tuned him out, locked in on Stormi, watching every move she made. That ass had its own rhythm, its own gravity, and I was fully under the spell.

I didn’t care who was watching. She was mine. And every time she moved like that, I was reminded exactly why I’d shoot first and never ask questions.

I made it back over to Southside and Rich, who were vibing a little too hard to Glorilla. I dropped down next to them, grabbed my D’Usse bottle, and took that shit straight to the head. “Oh, y’all dudes some bad bitches,” I said, feeling the burn hit.

“Shit, Glo be spitting.” Rich nodded, caught up in the vibe.

Then my eyes landed on Stormi shaking that ass like she didn’t even have on that tiny-ass dress. She dropped into a squat, one hand up, winding her hips to the beat, bouncing hard. She was rapping every word, then bent over and shook it even harder like she didn’t care who was watching.

I shook my head. “Aye, I’m outta here. Catch y’all later.”

“Yeah, Stormi ass pissing this man off,” Southside joked, grinning.

“Shortie don’t care.”

“Fuck you niggas.”

“Damn, Nigga, I rode with you.”

I grabbed Stormi by the waist and pulled her out of the section.

“Call Lia to come pick you up.” I yelled to Rich before I exited the section with my arms wrapped around Stormi’s body.

“Where we going?” she asked, stumbling a little in those damn heels as we made our way out of the club.

“Home.”

“I wasn’t ready to leave.”

“I was.”

She cut her eyes at me, attitude all over her face. “What that gotta do with me?”

I didn’t say shit at first. Just stood by the car, holding the passenger side door open, waiting. Patience thinning.

“Stormi,” I warned, voice low. “Don’t play with me tonight.”

She smirked, crossing her arms like she was cute. “Damn, I didn’t know my daddy was in the club tonight.”

I sucked my teeth. “Call me what you want. We outta here.”

Soon as she slid into the seat, I shut the door behind her a little harder than I meant to. Frustration sat heavy in my chest.

I tipped the valet for keeping an eye on my car, and keeping it up front worth every dollar; if you know you know. We peeled off into the night, the club lights fading behind us, her silence sitting thick between us.

A few minutes passed, then she shifted in the seat and said, “You can take me home.”

I glanced at her, then back to the road. “Stay the night with me.”

“I don’t do that.”

There it was again: her walls. Always up, always guarded. I didn’t blame her, but it didn’t make it any easier. I tightened my grip on the wheel, jaw clenched, trying to play it cool even though she had me hot one minute and locked in the next.

“I know you a virgin,” I said, keeping my tone low and steady. “I’m not trying to do anything.”

She looked over at me, confused. “Who told you that?”

“Shit... your mama.”

Stormi shook her head, looking away like she was embarrassed.

“That ain’t nothing to be ashamed of,” I told her. “For real. A virgin hard to come by these days. Even the high school girls out here acting grown.”

I wasn’t saying it from experience, that ain’t my lane.

Just stories I’d heard, things you pick up over time.

Me, you had to be in your late twenties for me to even entertain you.

I wasn’t messing with no little girl. I needed a woman.

One who knew who she was and what she wanted. Someone on my level.

“I’m not ashamed,” she finally said. “I just don’t like people in my business.”

“I’m not people, Stormi,” I said, eyes locked on the road. “I’m your man.”

She sighed. “Seth, please”

I raised a brow, glanced over. “So, you don’t want me to be your man?”

She hesitated, then hit me with, “I don’t do dope boys.”

I smirked. “Good thing I’m not a dope boy.”

She side-eyed me, skeptical. “So, what do you do?”

“I’m a boss,” I said simply. “Got multiple streams of income.”

She squinted. “Illegal?”

I shrugged. “Some.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared out the window, quiet again.

After a beat, I asked, “So you waiting on marriage?”

“For what?” she asked, glancing back.

“For that.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“So, what is it then?”

“I just haven’t met anybody I wanted to share myself with,” she said, calm but certain. “It’s a deeper soul tie than people realize, and I want to make sure the person I give myself to is worth being connected to like that.”

I nodded slow, respecting it. That kind of honesty? You don’t get that often.

“I feel you,” I said. “But me? I gotta have experience before marriage. I’m not marrying a woman and not knowing if we click in that way. I need to know she can please me. That we can please each other.”

I licked my lips without thinking. Truth was, I wanted Stormi. Bad. But I was cool waiting. Two weeks wasn’t long. Not long enough to earn what she was offering. I was willing to take my time. Because she was already mine.

The rest of the ride was quiet. At some point, Stormi dozed off, loud little snores rising above the music. I turned the volume down and let her sleep.

There was something about her that pulled me in, something deeper than her body or her face. She was soft, but strong. Guarded, but open if you earned it. I didn’t care if she was a “round-the-way” girl or pure or anything in between.

Because right now? Sex wasn’t on my mind. At least not tonight.

When I pulled into the driveway, I let the car idle for a second before cutting the engine. The glow from the dash lit Stormi’s face soft. She was still knocked out, head leaned back, mouth slightly open like a kid who’d finally relaxed after putting up a fight all day.