Page 24

RIGHT-HAND LADY

I was having a good time with Yummi in Prince Valley, but I needed to move around.

So, we ended up in Vegas.

I had a lot of shit going on in the outside world, but with Yummi around, I blocked most of it out.

We’d been out here for three days, just vibing.

I took her on a shopping spree at the Fashion Show mall and dropped twenty racks on her in Fendi alone.

She ain’t need nothing, but I liked seeing her lit up.

We weren’t pressed about nothing. We hit the casino, took losses and wins, and chilled hard. We chilled at the rooftop pool, indulged in in-room massages, and had champagne with every meal. I flew us in on the jet to keep it private. No social media, no distractions.

And the sex? Three times a day, minimum, raw, and no pulling out.

The pussy was good, just like I knew it would be.

Now we were walking hand-in-hand through the lobby of the Palms, on our way to a slow jams concert inside the resort.

Mary J. was performing. She liked real R&B, not none of that TikTok-ass love music.

Before we got to our good time, I had to handle something.

My shooter was in town, and we agreed to link up before the show.

We slid over to the bar, and Tory was already waiting in a black hoodie, standing out like always.

Vegas was full of tourists, but hood energy was hood energy—you could always spot it.

We sat on the velvet cushioned barstools across from him.

“What’s the word, Tory?” I asked, leaning forward.

He looked at Yummi before answering. “You want to talk in front of the lady?”

“Yeah, she’s my right-hand now. You ain’t recognize her? This Coast lil’ sister.”

Tory squinted. “Damn... You right. Just used to seein’ her with that nigga, Hurricane.”

“She ain’t with him no more and don’t let that nigga know you seen her,” I told him flat.

“You got it, Boss. You know I don’t report to that nigga no more since you checked him behind that bread.

That’s why I came to you with this. That bitch, Sparkle?

She the one that lined that nigga up. My bitch got a video of her drunk, talkin’ shit, confessing while venting ‘cause Hurricane cut her off.”

He pulled out his phone to play the video, but I cut him off mid-confession.

“This what you called me off vacation for?”

“I figured you’d want to know.”

“Nah. Take that shit to him. Let that nigga deal with his own snakes. I ain’t got time for gossip,” I said, brushing him off.

Yummi leaned in, pissed. “I knew that hoe set me up and tried to make it look like I was the one who had him robbed. I should kill her myself.”

“That ain’t got nothing to do with you no more,” I told her, then looked back at Tory. “No disrespect, lil’ homie, but tell that nigga he got five days. Handle that.”

Tory nodded. “My bad, Boss. Enjoy your night with your queen.” He dipped off.

I turned to Yummi, resting my hand on her thigh. “Look, I know you hate Sparkle. But with me, you ain’t gotta get your hands dirty unless it’s called for. Ain’t no dizzy hoes gonna come sideways when you with me. That old beef? Dead that shit.”

She gave me that look. “I hear you, Lameek, but if a bitch steps to me... It’s over.”

“Well, until then, stay out of the way.” I kissed her soft, pouty lips. “Smile… you ‘bout to see Mary J. do the Diddy Bop front row in some thousand-dollar boots.”

Yummi laughed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’m ready.”

I sat back at the concert, sipping D’usse while watching her vibe. She was up on her feet, eyes closed, swaying to the music like she ain’t had no drama behind her. No Hurricane, no Sparkle, no stress.

She looked peaceful. Beautiful. And I can’t lie—she had me feeling things I didn’t plan for.

Yummi was gold.

I had my share of women I liked, but she made me want to be in love, even though love wasn’t in my original blueprint. With her, I was thinking marriage. Kids. Real life.

Now, I just needed to make sure nobody fucked it up.