Page 2 of Too Many One Nights

“Buck, did you forget we had this meeting today?”

“Nah, I didn’t.”

He stared at me blankly, like he expected another response.

“So, why the fuck were you late? The last time I talked to you, you said you were on the way. The fuck happened between then and now?”

Smirking, I told him about shorty I met at the gas station and let her suck me off before I came. He cursed my black ass out as usual, but I didn’t give a fuck about that, and he knew it. I lived up to every perception of being the middle child, and I was proud of that shit. I was still young, and I was gone enjoy that shit.

“If this shit happens again, I’m putting your incompetent ass on probation,” he threatened.

I waved him off because he was always threatening me with that shit, but as soon as I told my mama on his ol’ hating ass, the tune changed.

“We done here?” I was already in the process of getting up, so I didn’t care whether he was done or not, because I was. This meeting was already taking place after hours, so I didn’t want to be here longer than I had to. I had my own shit to check in on. I owned Vault, which was a gambling house, and a sports bar called Linc’s. He could stay here, and fake preach all he wanted, but I was out.

“Don’t be late to the next meeting, Buck.”

“Mhm. Aye, you rolling with me?” I asked Stacks.

“Yeah. You can drop me off at home. I drove my bike, and it’s starting to rain.”

Nodding my head, I dapped and hugged my pops, with Stacks following suit. When we made it to my car, our older brother Kilo was calling.

“You missed the meeting,” I said as soon as the call connected.

“They had some shit going on in here, so I had to wait. The chick I fuck wit’ was off today,” he informed us. He was currently serving a ten-year bid for involuntary manslaughter. Shit definitely wasn’t involuntary. Very much premeditated, but the DeLuca name carried much weight. Pops would’ve preferred he didn’t do any time, but Kilo refused. He wanted to serve his time so the streets wouldn’t think he was a soft nigga. People got the misconception that this nigga was soft because he was more on the quiet side. That was far from the case. He preferred to play the background and peep everything. This nigga was just as unhinged as I was. He just kept his shit tucked away, whereas I wore my shit like a badge of honor.

“This nigga was late, so he can’t say shit,” Stacks laughed.

“Must’ve run into a bitch,” Kilo laughed.

“Don’t worry about if I was late or not. I was there, bitch. Unlike you,” I fired back, before accepting the blunt from Stacks.

“Yeah, aight. Where y’all niggas headed?”

“Gotta run by Vault and Linc’s. I’ll probably be at the bar until it closes. I gotta go over the inventory list and shit so Kasha (Kah-Shuh) can place the order.” It was playoff time, and my shit was the hottest spot in town, so I had to make sure everything ran smoothly.

“Aight. I’ll have a location for you in a few days. Same shit.”

Kilo may have been behind bars, but he still handled his part of the business, which was overseeing the narcotics division. With little to work with and even fewer resources, he still did that shit with precision.

“Bet. Stacks will be there,” I affirmed.

“The fuck you gone be doing?” he frowned.

“Making sure yo’ ass get there.” I smirked at my little brother because he hated for us to boss him around.

“Nigga, fuck you,” he spat.

The conversation with Kilo lasted until I made it to Vault. After assuring him that shit would be handled on our end, we ended the call and headed inside. I didn’t plan on being in this muthafucka long, so I hope nobody gave me a reason to. The gambling house was located in the hood, since that’s where most of the gambling muthafuckas lived. Linc’s on the other hand, was located in the heart of downtown Cannon Hills. It was nestled in a pristine spot, located among high-end boutiques and five-star restaurants. This was my only location at the moment, but I planned on opening one in The Cove near the water.

***

When I walked in, I let my eyes do a quick scan of the place. It was three levels in here. We entered through the back, where we were on the unground level. Down here, I hosted amateur boxing matches. You could sign up and let muthafuckas place bets on who they thought would win the battle. The nights we had that nigga Juke; I was guaranteed to break the bank. That nigga was a beast, but he didn’t want to do the shit professionally. We had a nice lil’ system in place and the shit worked for us.

The second level was where I had everything you would find in a Vegas casino. From slot machines to craps; we had it. Muthafuckas didn’t need to go to Vegas when they could come to Cannon Hills. The top level was basically a lounge area. It was set up like a small lounge with a bar included. There was already a two-drink minimum in place, but as long as you were gambling, you could drink all you wanted after that. It was up to our discretion, though. I wasn’t about to let a muthafucka get drunk off their asses on my watch and go out and kill himself or somebody else. If I wanted the muthafucka dead, I’d do it myself.

“Buck!” Hearing my name being called, I tittered in that direction. It was one of my table attendants, Shari. Of course I fucked, but she knew I didn’t double dip, but that didn’t include her mouth.

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