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SOUTHWAVE’S KING

Velvet South was my stamp on the city. The lights were low, Phantom League trap music blared, and my people were floating around me, making me feel protected. Bottles were popping and bad bitches were everywhere. This was Southwave’s playground, and I ran it.

I was deep in the VIP, back leaned on plush leather, and black Cartier shades low on my nose.

My thick Cuban link was heavy on my chest with gold and diamonds shining off the club lights.

A bottle of Ace was in one hand, and a blunt was in the other.

I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Niggas out here thought they were bosses like me. Nah, they were playing dress-up.

Mula was posted up next to me, cool as fuck like always. He was a Black ass nigga with a wavy fade and Prada shades on in the dark; the nigga stayed lowkey fly. He wasn’t flashy like me, but he didn’t have to be. His presence was heavy enough. He was the kinda nigga that womenwanted to figure out.

Right now, he had a baddie on his lap from the high-class side of Sable Cove with long nails tracing his chest and ass moving to the beat while he smoked. I watched him and grinned. That was my young nigga. Solid. Quiet. Dangerous.

I leaned over, lowering my voice so only he could hear over the music.

“Look at you, my nigga.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Running shit like it’s nothing. Since we were youngins, you been holding it down. I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

He glanced over, his mouth curling in that crooked smile, eyes hidden behind his shades. The smoke curled around him like a crown.

“Appreciate that, my nigga,” Mula said, voice low, smooth and cool as ice. “I hear you.”

I chuckled, shaking my head.

“Nah, for real. I mean it. Eventually, I’ma have to step back, you feel me? Let y’all carry this shit. The wave can’t ride forever off my name alone.”

He just nodded, taking a slow drag, like he wasn’t gonna let it show, but I could tell he was feeling what I said. Mula was built for this. Always had been.

I sat back, surveying the room. The energy was perfect. My empire in full swing; money flowed, niggas laughed while drinks was poured. This was the life. My life.

Yummi slid through the VIP with a grin, her hair wild and curls bouncing with a drink in hand. I motioned her over.

“Yo, lil’ sis. Come here.”

She leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“What’s up, big bro? You having fun on Mula’s dime like me?” She laughed.

“Yeah, you know I am. But on some real shit, stay out the mix when you not working with me, a’ight? Let me and Mula handle shit. You just be pretty, drink up, and enjoy life.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, which is the soft life energy she always had. I ruffled her curls, then let her float back into the crowd.

I finished my drink, feeling like a king.

My girl, Nina, was already on my arm, whispering in my ear about leaving and heading back to the condo.

She was bad as hell in a skin-tight dress.

Nina was the only woman I let get close to me.

She was the only one who saw my soft side.

The rest of these beach bum bitches, I gave them the cold shoulder.

I was about to call it a night when my phone buzzed. A text. I glanced at the screen, and my whole vibe shifted.

Unknown: That nigga moving filthy. Make sure you keep watching him.

I stared at it for a second too long. Nina kept talking, but I wasn’t listening anymore. The room felt colder.

I looked over at Mula one more time. He was still posted up, chill as hell, but I could feel it… this wasn’t just another night.

Something was coming.