Page 6 of Anything Necessary for Her (Crenshaw Kings #9)

ONE WEEK LATER . . .

“This private room back here, don’t show nobody this shit,” Asif explained as he took me into what used to be a suite he’d had built specifically for Anastazia, his wife, when she had worked for the team for a bit.

Now, it had been transformed into a secret room that I was sure would become useful to a nigga.

As I trailed Asif, him showing me other shit around the warehouse that was now my warehouse, as crazy as that was to say, I ruminated on whether or not I should mention the nigga I’d murked back in Vegas. But by the end of the tour, I decided against it.

Asif had always gotten on a nigga about being reckless, and I didn’t want him to think I was still on that type of fucking timing after he’d just handed over all his shit to me.

I couldn’t explain that it was for Banks’s safety, because then the questions and accusations and shit would land on her.

So, it was better for a nigga to keep that shit to myself and pray it stayed buried like that nigga was.

“How it feel, nigga? You ready?” Asif asked as we took a seat at one of the tables we’d taken many shots at or played Dominoes on.

I was happy to be back home in LA full time.

Vegas was straight, especially with all that good food, fast money, and the freaky bitches lurking, but LA would always have my heart.

Additonally, I wouldn’t have to worry constantly about my siblings being in the next state over without me for days at a time.

The constant stress and traveling had worn a nigga out.

“Beyond.” I nodded.

Though Asif was only five years older than me, he was like a big brother and a father figure. From the time I met his ass, he’d put me on game to a lot of shit, not just within the drug world but on the outside too.

I was reckless, angry, hurting, and hungry when I met him, but he saw something in a nigga.

He didn’t put me on the corner and have me selling like a lot of niggas in his position would’ve done.

He put me under him, had me doing big dog shit, and got in my ass when I acted like a corner boy instead of the position I was given.

At times we’d bumped heads over it because I was a leader type nigga, never a follower, and so was he, but he never gave up on a nigga, even if we had to fight that shit out for me to understand his angle.

A lot of niggas, mainly ones who didn’t know Asif well, assumed his pops had just given him everything and let him run it, but other than the bank, that wasn’t the case.

Prime attempted to do just that, handing over his connect and tasking Asif’s brother Lequay with showing him the trap houses, but the shit didn’t last.

At the first meeting with Prime’s longtime connect, Aarón, the same one even Lequay had used, the muthafucka pulled his heat out on Asif after they exchanged some heated words.

I remembered being scared as shit as I watched the shit go down, pissed off at Asif, who knew we’d been stripped of our own heat prior to the meeting.

But when Asif proceeded to disarm then whup that nigga’s ass until his face was crimson, before smoking the big fat nigga he had on guard with Aarón’s heat, my respect for him grew.

He told me then that just because a muthafucka had something you wanted or needed didn’t mean you should accept disrespect.

As expected, Prime was pissed, feeling like Asif had let his temper get the best of him which was unlike him. And as expected, Asif disagreed, letting his father know he had shit under control.

After that, he had to start this shit from scratch, finding a new connect and new traps since the ones his brother had handed over were hotter than fish grease and bound to be raided in no fucking time.

Low-key, I was worried, but before I knew it, we were pulling in so much fucking money even the niggas slanging on corners were in luxury whips. That started a phenomenon where every nigga with a working brain wanted to be down with Money Fiends Mob.

Asif had the whole West Coast sewed up, running that shit like it was an oil factory or some shit. I was a bit anxious now that I was taking over, not wanting to disappoint the man who’d taught me more than he fucking knew.

“I’m surprised you think I’m mature enough,” I joked as Asif poured some Don Julio 1942 into two double shot glasses as celebration.

“Me too, nigga.” He chuckled as I did the same, taking the shot glass and tossing it back. As he refilled the shot glasses, he added, “We don’ all had an immature goofy stage, though, nigga.”

“You?” I picked up my glass.

“Yep, me too. All my brothers as well, maybe with the exception of Bashar. That nigga always been serious.” He squinted as if he were thinking and trying to remember.

“What that nigga Unique be calling him?” I chuckled, unable to recall the nickname but knowing it was funny as hell.

“Brilliant Nigga or Super Nigga,” he responded before we broke out into laughter.

“Point is, long as you grow out of that shit is all that matters.” He threw back his shot.

“I ain’t wanna pass this shit onto my sons, but you the next best thing.

Free don’t want this shit. He just wanna get paid and fuck bitches, which is cool. ” We laughed in unison.

“How you gon’ keep yo’ sons out this shit? You got three of ’em.” I questioned because I was curious and for myself. My own baby brother was trying to follow a nigga, and I didn’t want that at all. This shit was for the heartless, the callous, and the hungry.

“Can’t but I’m gon’ try. Amir gon’ be the toughest. Nigga got the same birthday as me. Type to have to learn on his fucking own.”

We chuckled as I nodded, thinking of Amir, Amare, and Asante. Sophie was still his only girl, and she, very obviously, loved that shit.

“Yeah, sometimes shit can’t be prevented,” I replied, thinking of my brother Wyatt.

The door to the room we occupied opened, and in walked Gaia, one of my workers, in the smallest jean shorts they probably fucking made and a crop top that showed the bottom of her titties.

Her short haircut had finger waves in it and had become her signature around these parts.

Her light skin was perfection, not a blemish in sight as she strutted by in her New Balance sneakers.

“Hey, Sif.” She waved, grinning hard with her pretty ass.

She switched a little harder than usual due to him being in the room.

I always found females’ antics around the big homie funny because if they knew him, they’d know that shit didn’t work.

The most they’d get, pre-Anastazia, was fucked, and that was a big if .

“’Sup.” He nodded, and judging by the furrow of his brows, he had an issue. I’d known the nigga long enough to catch on to exactly what the issue was.

“So, I was wondering, did you want me to wait for you or go collect now?” Gaia walked up on me, standing between my legs while Asif busied himself, pouring another shot.

“Go ’head.” I nodded toward the door.

“Okay.” She caressed my beard before letting her hand drop to my chest. She turned to walk off, saying, “I’ll hit you after.”

As soon as the door shut, I said, “I know, muthafucka.”

Asif rose to his feet as I took back my shot he’d poured for me while Gaia was here.

“You know fucking on her ain’t gon’ end well, right?

” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his Adidas track pants.

“She too close and know too fucking much. Additionally, some women’s attitude changes depending on whose dick they sitting on.

She walked right in this muthafucka like she the boss. ”

“She can think what she wants but she know what’s up. And how much does Stazi know?”

“A lot, but she’s Mrs. St. Thomas. I know you not comparing some bitch you cracking to the mother of my kids and my wife.”

“Nah. Not even.” I chuckled because I couldn’t see Gaia being anybody’s wife.

It was shocking enough that she had a longtime boyfriend who she cheated on every time I wanted her to.

“I ain’t worried though. She start acting crazy, I’ll murk her.

I’m fucking her, not loving her.” I took the bottle to the head since it was clear Asif was done.

Only reason I even smashed Gaia was for those lazy nigga times when I wanted some pussy but didn’t feel like jumping through hoops for it. Gaia was right there, willing, and had good enough pussy, making it convenient for me to slide up in that in the back room then take my ass home.

Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, he said, “Aye, it’s yo’ shit. I’m legit now.”

We snickered as I stood up to slap hands with him before walking him out.

I shut everything down once Asif was gone before hopping into my whip and heading to my crib. It was about a forty-five-minute drive with no traffic which was a long ways away.

The whole ride, Banks kept popping up into my fucking head, and I didn’t know why. I also didn’t like the shit.

From one interaction, she’d gon’ from the big homie’s baby sister, who I never gave a second thought to, to one of the prettiest women a nigga had ever laid eyes on.

She had this classy ass sex appeal to her that I wasn’t used to.

I’d witnessed it on unavailable women like Anastazia, Yolani, and Couture, where a nigga could admire the shit from afar, but never one that was semi-available.

Most of the bitches I fucked with were hood, freaked the fuck out how I liked, and were only sexy when in their birthday suit. I wasn’t used to a woman turning me on in fucking leggings and a graphic tee like Banks wore that afternoon she and her homegirl walked into the backyard.

Regardless, though, she wasn’t an option, mostly because I wasn’t the nigga she was looking for—I wasn’t like her fucking brothers. I used bitches for one thing and wouldn’t know how to conduct myself in a relationship if my muthafuckin’ life depended on it.