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Menace taught me a lot of shit, mostly how not to be a fucking nut, but one of the main things the man was strict on was having a good pair of shoes and tailored suits.

Funny, because his ass hated anything that wasn’t a pair of sweatpants.

Anytime he popped out in a suit, you would spend the whole night trying to find a flaw, and you never would find one.

I settled on a pair of Travis Scott low top one’s and then tossed my clothes on the bed before going to shower and spend the rest of the night out. Me and Beans may start at Tiny’s, but we always ended up somewhere else.

Being the youngest, I was always underestimated. My siblings were all big presences. I often found myself lost in the shuffle. Added with the fact that I couldn’t remember my parents, I couldn’t even count on that.

I could never decide if I was like my dad.

Nah.

Maybe I was more like my mother.

While my older siblings could rely on that, I was left putting the pieces together with old pictures and not too many trips down memory lane. Menace never spoke about them, and Kora mentioned small things, but nothing to where I could paint the picture of who they were.

Hell, I just discovered Stevie and Menace got married on my mom’s birthday. Zoya pretended like everything was fine when I knew she hated not having a mother. She hated that all her friends had moms they could lean on, and we had Menace.

We used to have Angelica, but she ended up leaving and we were never told the reason. I knew the bullshit excuse Menace gave wasn’t the truth. Shit was perfect and then the next thing I knew, she was packing up her bedroom and telling me that we were old enough now.

Me and Zoya still needed her, and I worried about how Menace was going to do all that she did.

Who was going to hug me when I failed a test and tell me I was still smart?

Menace would rather pull his toe nails off before he hugged anybody.

Who was going to help with homework? Whenever Menace did make dinner, he made the same shit every night and then told us we could eat grass for being ungrateful.

Menace and Kora split the responsibilities. While Zoya could lean on Kora to teach her about all the womanly shit, I had to lean on my brother. He showed me how to shave and keep my shit neat.

Did he do it the normal way?

Nah.

He purchased a fucking plant, clipped the shit up and told me my shit should be presentable and neat.

When it came to keeping my hygiene, he was on me like white on rice.

Menace taught me how to properly squeeze a toothpaste tube, brush my teeth without getting toothpaste residue on the mirror, and to be as neat as possible.

As much as I hated going over to his house because of all the rules, I appreciated the lessons he instilled in me. I was neat and made sure my house was at all times. I brushed my teeth without a mess and always kept a tailored suit and a good pair of designer loafers.

When it came to the woman arena, I was as clueless as anything. Menace didn’t date and even when he was entertaining someone, we never met them, and he was never around them long. By the time we got cool with him having someone, they were as good as gone.

With Stevie, I watched how he was and took notes. He cared for and loved her, and he wanted to spoil her. Make her life easier because it had been complicated thus far. He was a Menace to the world, but a saint to her.

I’ve had my fair share of relationships that never worked because my heart was never in it. It was always something that had me second guessing what I was doing, and I learned if I had to second guess anything, then that meant it wasn’t meant to be.

With Kennedy, I never second guessed her. I knew her life hadn’t been the best, and I wanted to save her. I wanted to make all the trauma and pain she experienced disappear because I was into her like that.

Was it love?

Nah.

It could be, and that was what pissed me off about her.

She didn’t want to see where the shit could go.

How it could feel to be in love with the right person who wanted to take care of her.

Even when Menace found out she was the daughter of our father’s friend, she still wanted to work.

He made it where she didn’t have to work for Case House, and she refused and wanted to continue.

Kennedy was fucking hardheaded, but I wanted to be the man who changed that. Allow her to lean into me so I could be hard for both of us. Aside from the Caselli money, and my trust fund, I had my own bread, too.

Working with Corleon, I could make money that had nothing to do with my brother or trust fund. It was the reason I had so many cars in the parking garage downstairs. It never got away from me that I was privileged.

I attended private schools and experienced shit in life that some people would never get to. I never went through the phase of wanting to be someone that I wasn’t. Even before we came into our family’s money, we were never starving.

Most rich kids wanted to experience the other side and hated to be referred to as rich. That wasn’t my reality because I embraced being wealthy. Waking up in my penthouse every morning was something I thanked God for.

Never having to question where money was going to come from was a blessing, and I didn’t want to stand on the block to prove that I had heart. I already knew I had it and was raised by a man who had more heart than any damn body.

Ruthless as they came and went to private school.

My social class had nothing to do with how quick I’d put this gun in yo’ fucking mouth if you tried me. I allowed myself to let my guard down a few times, and it almost cost me my life.

When it came to me and mine, I would protect them with everything I had. I was trying to do the same with Kennedy and she was playing games with me.

I pulled my Rolls Royce in front of Tiny’s, and the valet jogged around the stand to come open my door and take the keys. Beans looked in his phone, making sure nothing needed his attention before he opened his door and hopped out.

It was the reason he was Menace’s top general. His attention to detail and always being on top of shit was why nothing ever happened without him knowing. “Welcome, Sir. We hope you have a great night,” one of the valet attendants said, as I stepped out.

“Appreciate you.” I slipped a hundred-dollar bill into his palm.

He paused and then looked back at me. “Put me on, man…. The fuck kind of Rolls Royce is this?”

I laughed. “Rolls Royce La Rose Noire Drop Tail.”

He held his fist to his mouth and hopped up and down. “Fuck… mind if I take a picture?”

“Knock yourself out.” I rounded my car and dapped one of the familiar valet attendants. The one who took my keys had to be new.

When Gabriel, one of Menace’s workers who worked in his garage, sent me the picture of his new whip he had got in, I needed it.

Menace hardly drove any of his cars. His garage was nothing more than a damn showroom of cars he liked to keep free of dust and dirt. When I purchased a car, I used that shit and whipped around the city because that was what it was for.

“Got everybody out here taking pictures of that shit.” Beans nudged me as we walked into the restaurant.

Soon as the host saw us, he smiled and extended his hand. “Mr. Caselli and Mr. Benjamin… I didn’t see a reservation for you. We’ll always accommodate you with a table toward the back.”

“We’re good… we’re mee?—”

“Beans!” We both turned and saw Greene walking over.

The Greene who was always running around Stevie and Menace’s crib with her hair in a big ass bushy bun, and sweatpants on, wasn’t the Green in front of us.

She wore a strapless sage green dress that hugged her body like a glove. Her breasts were sitting up, her hair was straightened, and she apparently had gotten a haircut, because it stopped at her shoulder.

With a flute of champagne in one hand and her clutch in the other, she quickly did a light sprint in her heels to give us both hugs. “Come on, we’re down there. Some of Kennedy’s friends didn’t come, so there are extra seats.”

Beans wasn’t hearing shit she was talking about because he was too busy taking in all of her. She stopped when she realized that he hadn’t responded to her. “Got the nigga stuck, Greene.”

She blushed as she looked at him. “Really? This dress is so old, and Navy told me to just toss it on.”

I ignored her little rant about her dress and headed down to where the table was. Kennedy was laughing, talking, and taking pictures with the people who did show up. As she looked up, she spotted me and smiled.

“Mr. Caselli, you came out to celebrate me tonight?” Kennedy smiled as she finished up taking a selfie with one of her friends.

She wore this hot pink silk dress that clung to her body and exposed her stomach. The dress draped around her entire front, leaving that small peek-a-boo spot for her stomach. Her skin glistened under the low lights, and I could smell her from where I stood.

She smelled like cherries and cream. “Happy birthday, Ken.”

Tossing her arms around my neck, she hugged me, and I could tell that she had been drinking. “Thank you, sweetie.”

I held her at the waist and smelled her neck as our eyes connected. It was like she remembered something and quickly backed up. “Help yourself to anything… let me go and take the rest of my pictures.”

“Do you.”

She paused and smiled before she rushed off to take pictures with the rest of her friends. Beans had already made himself comfortable over by the bar with Greene, who was asking me what I wanted. I signaled to let her know that I was good and went over toward the table and sat down.

“Seat taken?” I asked but wasn’t really even paying attention to who was sitting there.

After not hearing a response, I finally looked down to see a brown skin shorty with her face planted in a kindle. I tapped the back of her seat gently, and she pulled her eyes away from the kindle to look up at me.