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Landon Caselli

Wale played low over the speakers throughout my penthouse, as I sat at my desk that overlooked Central Park. My desk faced the view of the infamous park that was stolen from us, just like everything else in this country.

I listened to Wale rap about wanting a Black Bonnie, as I continued to pull reports for Case House. The reason Menace sent me to fucking college twice was so I could spend every top of the month pulling fucking reports for our businesses and making sure they were secured.

As I clicked send to the portal, I leaned my head back on my office chair, pulled my glasses off my face and took a deep breath. Since graduating, this was mostly all the fuck I had time for. I didn’t have classes anymore, so Menace figured I could take more of the load off the family’s accountant.

He didn’t trust him.

If he had a valid reason other than the fact that the man put steak sauce on his steak, then I would have been ready to ride behind his reasoning.

The sun was starting to set over the park, letting me know that my workday had officially ended.

Fuck any calls from business partners overseas and our accountant the minute he went to double check the work I uploaded to the portal.

I didn’t give a fuck about doing anything tonight but drinking and chilling.

Looking at my watch, I shut down my computers and pushed away from the desk. The six hours I sat there, I hadn’t consumed anything. My stomach growled as my feet shuffled across the light wooden floors as I made my way to the kitchen.

The massive kitchen was chef grade with top-of-the-line appliances.

Features that made a nigga like me happy.

I loved to cook and get lost in fucking around in the kitchen.

Time was always the problem. My kitchen didn’t get used often because I was too busy with school or other shit.

Aside from that, the only signs of fresh produce was usually every other week when I received the delivery from Case Farms. The organic vegetables were delivered to all of us, and most of the time they went bad because I didn’t have time to cook.

It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy cooking. Time was always working against me, so by the time I made it home, the last thing I wanted to do was cook a meal. If I wanted to catch a slight mood, I would light a spliff, cook, and zone out to my music.

Grabbing a fresh Granny Smith apple, I took a bite and leaned against the counter while I scrolled through my phone.

The happy birthday text message I sent earlier was still unread, only saying delivered. Exiting out of my text messages, I went to the second call on my log, and pressed the name, while I continued to eat my apple.

“What we looking like tonight?” Beans answered the phone, already knowing the timing I was on.

Since graduating, I had more free nights where I didn’t have to cram and study for different exams. Nobody was holding my hand or forcing me to a desk to study.

The only thing that kept me focused on school was Menace.

I didn’t want to envision the look on his face if I had to tell him I wasn’t graduating.

“Shit, I’m trying to see what you on. Eating a fucking apple in the damn dark I’m so bored.” I chuckled.

“Sounding like big bro’ over there. You cool?” Beans snorted.

I shook my head because Menace loved the fucking dark. Always said it calmed him, but when I was younger, I used to think he did it to scare me. I would come down for a drink of water and that nigga was in the living room sitting in the dark, playing with his hands.

“What you about to get into? Still handling shit for Mens?”

“Nah. It’s all handled. Greene texted me. She at Tiny’s for Kennedy’s birthday dinner.”

When I heard Kennedy’s name, I was more interested in the conversation. There was only one spot I wanted to hit tonight, and it was Tiny’s.

“She invited you?”

Beans snickered like I told a fucking joke. “Nigga, she told me… mean she want me there. Kennedy invited her to have dinner with her girls.”

“Messy bitches.” I couldn’t stand the bitches Kennedy hung around.

Granted, at least three of them were Case House girls.

They were forever leading her down the wrong path, and not because they worked for Case House.

I didn’t care how they got their money, because the more they popped they pussy, the more the Casellis ate.

“Yeah, but you infatuated with their best friend so get dressed… we heading there tonight. Always some shit at Tiny’s.”

I wasn’t going to fight him on that, especially since I texted her ass this morning and never received a response. “Bet.”

Every bad bitch went to Tiny’s for dinner and drinks on their birthday. It was a social club and restaurant. Everyone knew everybody, and you had to be making a certain kind of money to even be invited.

Any bitch or nigga in that bitch was getting to the money. Music was always loud, and velvet booths were available if you wanted to catch a vibe alone or with your significant other. The tables were always crowded with bottles upon bottles and food scattered throughout.

Tiny’s was a spot where you didn’t have to worry about splitting the bill and having the server run several different cards. You just knew, if you were bad enough, some nigga was gonna float his card over to your table and cover the tab.

On the nights that I wanted to be alone, but my home was too quiet, I found myself in a velvet booth with a drink and my favorite lobster ravioli they served.

Observing my surroundings had been drilled into my head by Menace and Corleon for years.

I sat in the back, where I had a full view of everyone and enjoyed my food and drink.

Naturally, I was a person who craved to be around people.

That shit didn’t work when your older siblings loved to be alone.

Kora was more receptive to me coming to sit in her space, but after a while, she started asking questions that told you she was ready for you to leave.

Zoya and I were close, but she was more like Menace than she wanted to admit.

They both liked to be alone and never had a problem with the shit.

They valued their privacy and alone time, so I couldn’t fault them on that.

As I leaned against the counter, the track changed to Wale reciting a poem about an ambitious girl. The kind of woman I wanted in my life.

Fuck that.

Needed.

As much as I could take care of any woman who came into my life, I craved a woman with ambition.

She didn’t want to be with me because of the money in the bank or the name.

Her concern was more on chasing her own dreams, building a life that would perfectly align with mine.

I wanted to spoil her because that wasn’t something she was looking for.

The kind of woman you could see the hustle coming out her pores because she wanted to win in life that bad. It was never about the kind of man she decided to be with; he was the bonus. I dated all kind of women throughout college and the shit got boring.

Everybody was following this aesthetic of what they thought niggas with money wanted. When I thought about who I saw myself being with, it was Kennedy.

Kennedy followed the same lame ass aesthetic; she was more than that, though. I never understood why she followed her friends when she was different.

I checked my text messages and saw she finally replied.

Ken: Thanks, Don. I really appreciate the jewelry.

Since I was seeing her in a few, I ignored her text and went to get dressed before I heard Beans blowing my phone up about being late. His ass was thirsty to get around Greene’s ass since we spent Thanksgiving on the yacht together.

Kennedy and Greene came with us to party on shore, and something between them happened. I mean, shit, something transpired between me and Kennedy, too. She woke up the next morning tripping because we slept in the same hotel suite.

Meanwhile, the night before, she was pulling me to my room. It was always so fucking hot and cold with her, and I never knew where I stood. One minute we were on the same wavelength, then the next second, she was second guessing shit and telling me we shouldn’t have feelings for one another.

While she worried about Menace, I never gave a fuck.

Who the fuck died and made him in charge of who I wanted to be with? Menace kidnapped his fucking wife and fell in love with her. The nigga wasn’t qualified to set any rules on who could and couldn’t be together.

That was the only reason Beans hadn’t really stepped to Greene the way he wanted to. Greene was Menace’s second assistant. Even with her working with Stevie, she was still heavily involved in his day-to-day life with Jeffie.

Beans was one of his top generals, someone he trusted, and that list was already short. The nigga would cut himself off if he thought the wrong thoughts. Beans was invited to his home, vacations, and to be around our family. That wasn’t extended to everybody, so he was careful not to fuck that up.

The view of the park followed me into my bedroom as I went into my closet to decide on what to wear. I wasn’t in the mood to get dressed up. Shit, it wasn’t my birthday, and Ken already was acting funny.

I wanted to take her out for her birthday and had sent her a text last night asking before I wished her a happy birthday. She had me out here bad with the way she picked and chose to respond to me.

Snatching a pair of freshly ironed Essentials sweat shorts, and a Jill Sanders t-shirt, I went over to my shoe closet, that was in the next area. When I moved in, I had the wall to the bedroom beside the master knocked out to expand this closet.