Page 115 of Love's Most Wanted

“Just for the first movie. The second one will be way more.” She kissed my face.

“We don’t know that, love. That’s a projection based on how they think the first movie will perform. If that shit don’t happen then…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. The thought of losingDough BoyzandNight Walkerfailing would be my worst fucking nightmare.

Because of how I was raised, my mind immediately ventured to offing Tamira’s ass, but I knew that would have the same effect. Without her, the show would be cancelled regardless, hence her fucking job title.

“So what are you going to do, Unique? Sleep with her?”

“No.” I frowned. “You know damn well that’s not what I’m gon’ do. Unless you want me to.” I smirked, but her serious face made me wipe the shit off. “I don’t want to, anyway. Her shit garbage, and she sound like a muthafuckin’ seal when she cumming.”

“TMI.” Kabrina shut her eyes in disgust. “I still think she needs to be exposed. She shouldn’t be able to go on doing shit like this.”

“No. If she gets exposed, cool, but I won’t be the fucking poster boy for that shit.” I shook my head. “What grown ass man complains about getting pussy? I got a gay father too? Nah.”

“Unique, it’s not aboutgetting pussy. It’s the fact that she used her status to prey on you. Then when you didn’t want to have sex, she threatened your career. It has nothing to do with that masculine shit.” She rolled her eyes.

“My brothers would clown me until I was eighty if I got up there crying about some shit like that.”

“No they wouldn’t. They love you.”

I shot her a look, and for the first time since this conversation started, she laughed.

“One time Shakur wore gloves to change oil in his wife’s car, and we called that nigga Mary Poppins for a year straight.”

Kabrina tossed her head back to crack up. I loved when she did that shit, making me kiss her neck.

“Men are so immature. I’m sure he had a reason for the gloves.”

“I mean, he had somewhere to be and didn’t want the shit on his hands, but still.” I shrugged. “Bashar wore a raincoat because it was about to rain, and we got on his ass ’bout that too, singing ‘One Wish’ by Ray J every time we saw that nigga.” Kabrina cracked up. “Don’t no real nigga wear a raincoat. You thug it out in that damn rain, even if you gotta ‘go to court.’”

“But if it was about to rain…” Kabrina chuckled with her brows kissing.

“So. Me and my brothers are the most mature yet immature niggas you will ever meet.”

“I get that, but I think they would take this seriously.”

“Well, I’m not about to find out, love, and I would appreciate it if you leave the shit where it is. I wanna move on from this shit if I have to, and letting the world know will mean that this will follow me for years to come, and I don’t want that. I wanna make money, act my ass off, and lay low when I can. I don’t wanna be involved with shit.”

She stared into my eyes like she was processing it, then said, “Okay.”

* * *

Cemone’s car was the last to pull in, and once he parked, the six of us climbed out onto the rocky gravel of the church’s parking lot.

The building was huge, and I just took the shit in for a moment, seeing just how successful this nigga Devante had become.

A part of me hesitated for a bit, thinking Shakur was right to leave the nigga be and let him do him. But the shit left my mind as quickly as it came when I remembered my mother struggling and how the nigga would barely even pick up the phone to talk to us well before Prime came around.

Regardless of everything, I couldn’t respect Devante Compton, and had he not changed his name, I probably would’ve found it difficult to carry that surname myself.

“Aight. We starting shit as soon as we walk in or what?” I asked once the six of us stood together outside of the large double doors.

“Ain’t no point in sitting down listening to a fake nigga preach,” Khari said, and everybody bobbed their heads to agree.

He led the way, and we all followed, through the double doors, passing the quiet hallway where I could hear his voice booming over the congregation as if he was a man who hadn’t abandoned his children or cheated on his wives.

When the second set of doors opened, I could see Devante at the podium preaching. He sputtered a bit upon seeing Khari and then the rest of us, mobbing down the long aisle toward him. The church was packed out, every pew filled to the brim to hear this fraud ass nigga preach about a lifestyle he surely didn’t live.

Bold ass Khari walked up onto the stage like it was nothing, dwarfing our biological father, even though he, himself, wasn’t short. Devante stood at about six feet even or maybe six feet, one inch, but his cowardice was showing at the sight of Khari beside him, making him appear way shorter than my brother’s six-foot-four stature.