Hi guys –
I’m determined to release this sucker next week, so I can move on to my next project. I gotta speed up production! I’m also going to officially move my blog posting date to Saturday. Wednesday hasn’t happened in awhile, and backdating is lame. So, we’ll see how I do. Meantime, here’s another snippet where the last one leaves off. Let me know what you think!
Tommy called later to confirm she’d come tomorrow to meet Miles and sign the papers.
“Yup. He’s the no time like the present type, likes to keep busy. You’ll like him.”
Steele raised a brow. She didn’t like anybody.
“Well, you have no reason not to like him,” Tommy said, as though she could see her cousin’s expression. “He’s a nice guy and very easy on the eyes. Dom likes him, and all my girls are half in love with him. You met him at my last party. You just don’t remember him because your ass was sleep the whole time.”
Steele remembered him fine, but she kept that to herself. Let Tommy stay up all night on a roof top and then making deliveries. First warm, comfortable, safe seat she’d take her ass a nap too. She just grunted.
“You ain’t gon’ ask no questions?”
“He can tell me what he want when I get there tomorrow.” She hung up. Her phone rang immediately. “Yeah.”
“When you comin’ through?” Lolly, one of her best earners.
“The natives gettin’ restless?”
“In a few.”
“Bet.” Lolly hung up.
That girl, Steele thought. She should be doing more with her life. As street pharmacists went, Lolly was as reliable as the folks behind the counter at Walgreens. Quiet, thorough and savage when she had to be, she was practical, smart, and she didn’t see any romance in her work. It was a job.
She also wasn’t flashy. As far as Steele could tell she cared for nothing except her money, her mama, and her best friend Dee, which was as it should be. Still, she was too good for this life, and excellent dope dealer wasn’t exactly great for the LinkedIn profile.
She was good at makeup. She’d have to introduce her to Tommy. Maybe have her go on her YouTube channel, beat some celebrity faces, start her own thing, get into a new game.
She called her back.
“You ever thought about starting a YouTube channel?”
“I got one. I have 47,000 followers.”
“Hey, now. You should go on Tommy’s channel.”
“Yeah? I’d love to. I thought about it,” she admitted. “But I didn’t like to ask.”
“Why not? A closed mouth don’t get fed. I’ll ask her for you,” and she hung up. She sent her cousin a text.
Sure, if she’s good. What’s the name of her channel? I’ll take a look.
Steele sent another text, got a response, then relayed the information.
I’ll look at it later on today.
That’s all she could do, for now.
“I need to be tryna figure my own way out the game,” Steele muttered, turning her late model Range Rover onto the nearest exit for the Bishop Ford.
She’d been trying for a while now. But every time she was ready to pull the chord, something happened. Somebody went to jail, the hospital, or some other annoyingly expensive bullshit.
Before she had a goal. She was saving for a Dollar Tree franchise. She found the perfect location and got through most of the paper work, but the deal fell apart when she couldn’t raise the capital in time to prevent it being sold to someone else for a higher tag.
The guy was apologetic, but she held no ill will. She congratulated him on the sale and wished him luck.
“It wasn’t personal,” he hastened to say.
“I know,” she told him. And she did.
Business and money should never be personal. It was why she took the risk and got out of the hand to hand dope game and into distributing. Most stupid ass motherfuckas couldn’t figure out that them getting high and her selling weed were two separate but interrelated things. But that’s what happens when you deal with drug users. Everything is personal when all you’re concerned about is getting high.