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GETAWAY

I didn’t ask any more questions when Mula told me not to. I just took his key fob and watched him disappear into the backseat of a black Hellcat. I had so much on my mind, but I wasn’t trying to process any of it. I was finally away from Hurricane and ready for peace of mind.

Hurricane only feared two niggas. That was my brother and Mula. I knew he wouldn’t be looking for me. Now, I could relax with both eyes closed and not worry about him tormenting me for leaving him. I couldn’t lie, I was glad that he saved a bitch, and his gangsta had me smitten.

I finally made it to the freeway that took me straight to Prince Valley.

Once there was no more city and beach vibes behind me, I let the top down on his fly ass ride.

I lit the blunt he had left in his cup ashtray.

I picked up my speed since there was no more traffic.

I listened to the engine roar as I took a few puffs from the blunt and turned up the radio, after driving in silence.

NBA YoungBoy came on, but I connected my phone to the Bluetooth. I was in the mood for alternative R a whole fairytale duck-off carved into the side of a rich man’s secret.

The gate to the home automatically opened as soon as I pulled up. That made me nervous. Either somebody was inside… or somebody was watching. Either way, this didn’t feel like no Airbnb. This was some real grown, generational wealth-type shit.

I drove through the long circular driveway, lined with palm trees and motion sensor lights, before pulling up to the front of a modern flat estate with panoramic windows and acres of manicured grass wrapping around it.

The house was cold-blooded. No neighbors in sight. Nothing but clean architecture, mountain breeze, and a soft stretch of city glow far beneath us.

I parked and sat still for a second, admiring it all. The silence, the height, and the safety. This was the kind of house a nigga raised his kids in—or his secrets.

The front door opened, and that’s when a tall, dark skinned man stepped out in all black.

“What’s up, Yummi? That’s dope how the doors open by themselves, huh?” he called out as he made his way down the steps. “I’m Marques. I’ll be your security when Mula ain’t around. I got you.”

I’d seen him around Mula before, so I trusted him. He took my bags from the trunk like it was nothing and led me inside through tall matte black doors.

The moment I walked in, my breath caught.

This wasn’t regular ass house. This was a damn statement.

Floor-to-ceiling windows opened up to the horizon, letting in mountain air and the glow of L.A.

in the distance. The house was furnished in deep grays and warm golds, a minimal but rich vibe—everything sleek, modern, and masculine.

A huge plush sectional wrapped around the living room with a fireplace sunken into the wall. There were glass walls, built- ins with rare liquor, and a private chef-style kitchen that looked untouched.

I followed the hall to the master bedroom, and baby…The king-size bed looked like royalty. The en-suite bathroom had marble everything, a tub with a view, and gold fixtures that made me feel like I was in a Black billionaire’s Pinterest board.

I dropped my bags, walked to the vanity, and saw a note taped to the mirror in Mula’s messy handwriting:

I know you saw my shit in the closet. I’ve been living here off and on for a couple of months. I’ll be there for dinner in the backyard. I got a caterer coming through. See you at nine tonight... wear something classy for a nigga.

I smiled and held the note to my chest. Our first date.

My stomach flipped just thinking about it.

Still, I was drained. The ride, the emotions, and the weight of everything finally caught up to me.

I took a quick shower under the waterfall head, laid out my dress for the night, and climbed into bed wearing just my thong.

The luxury, the silence, and the softness of the sheets knocked me out cold.

$$$$$

Nightfall came fast, and I was up getting dressed for Mula.

I had Khamani’s Head In A Jar playing in the bathroom while I did my makeup and touched up the blowout I’d gotten earlier that morning. I kept it light with nude lip gloss and soft concealer, just enough to give rich energy without doing too much.

I slipped on my red Chanel dress and the matching stiletto heels that made my legs look like a dream. The dress hugged me in all the right places, but it was still grown and classy, just like Mula asked.

By the time I finished, it was nine on the dot.

The caterers had already come and gone, and the table was set like something out of a movie with white linen, soft candlelight, and red rose petals glowing beneath warm patio lights.

You could see the view of the city below us and the hills stretching out forever behind us.

I stepped outside onto the private balcony with my Apple Pill playing in the background so it wouldn’t be too quiet while I waited. The air up here hit different; it was cool, clean, and rich. Like it costs something just to breathe it.

The infinity pool was lit from within, casting royal blue waves that danced across the patio walls. I made a mental note to get in it after dinner, with a bottle of champagne and a blunt.

I started to get nervous after waiting twenty minutes. I knew he was coming, but still… this was new territory for me. The quiet, the luxury, and the slow pace. I wasn’t used to being taken care of like this.

Then, I heard the sliding doors open behind me. Mula stepped out, and the weight I didn’t even know I was holding fell right off me.

He looked relaxed. Not as heavy as he did when he checked Hurricane. His beard was sharp. His fade was clean. His chains caught the candlelight in all the right ways.

He wore black jeans and a monogram Dior collar shirt unbuttoned just enough to let his gold and diamond chains rest on his chest. On his feet were Dior shoes, and a pair of light brown Cartier frames over his eyes pulled the whole look together. He looked comfortable . Like a man at peace.

He looked like he owned this mountain we were sitting on.

I stood up to greet him, and he walked right into my arms, like I was the only thing that ever made him stop moving.

“What’s up, baby? You smell expensive, and you look good,” he said as he took me into his arms. I felt his hand rest on my ass, giving me chills.

“Thank you, you look good and smell good, too. What you wearing?” I asked.

“Baccarat.”

We disconnected our hug, but before we sat down, he pulled me close again and kissed my lips.

“Get used to this because I like being affectionate,” he told me.

I blushed. “Okay, boo.”

We sat down, and Mula opened the bottle of D’usse that was on the table.

“So, can I ask questions now that you are more relaxed?”

I reached for the champagne because I didn’t want dark liquor. I was looking too classy to be drinking the usual hard liquor I loved. I could rest in my femininity and drink out of a flute glass.

“My bad about the way I came at you earlier. That nigga just had me tight, but yeah, you can ask your questions.”

“I understand, and I never knew he owed you so much money. I didn’t know he was broke either. He always has money and pays everyone else.”

“That’s not your fault, but I don’t want to talk about what happened. We gon’ have a good time while you’re stuck here.” He sipped his liquor from the bottle.

“I’m looking forward to it, but tell me the truth. Did you purposely fall out with Hosea to bring me to this house?”

“Lowkey, I did… him scrambling to get my money will keep him out of the way. After he pay me my money, you can go back to that nigga, but I doubt you’ll want to after being with me. You scared?”

“I’m not going back to him even if I gotta be alone. I’ll never be scared of anything while I’m with you.” I shot him an assuring smile.

It was crazy how life worked. I never thought I’d be in the hands of the man I wanted, but I didn’t jump the gun.

Mula and Hurricane were beefing, so he was probably only using me as a pawn.

I was going to move accordingly to spare my heart, but I wasn’t turning down anything he offered me when it came to this house.

Mula finally went to get our delicious food. When he had it all set up, I opened the heated containers and put food on the clear plates in front of us. We had filet mignon, smothered potatoes, collard greens, and a chocolate fudge cake.

“That looks so good. I can’t wait to eat some,” I said, almost drooling over the cake.

“I know you got a sweet tooth, that’s why I added it for dessert.”

“Thank you.” I blushed. Mula knew a lot about me, and I was glad he did because we could move past the getting to know each other stage.

As we ate, we talked more. Mula asked interesting questions, especially when he brought up the things I liked to do.

“You still be drawing and making your own clothes? I used to see you in custom shit, especially your swimwear. Now all I see you in is designer. I still remember you made everyone’s swimwear for your twenty-fifth birthday.”