Page 3 of Don Caselli

Menace and Kora split the responsibilities. While Zoya could lean on Kora to teach her about all the womanly shit, I had tolean on my brother. He showed me how to shave and keep my shit neat.

Did he do it the normal way?

Nah.

He purchased a fucking plant, clipped the shit up and told me my shit should be presentable and neat. When it came to keeping my hygiene, he was on me like white on rice. Menace taught me how to properly squeeze a toothpaste tube, brush my teeth without getting toothpaste residue on the mirror, and to be as neat as possible.

As much as I hated going over to his house because of all the rules, I appreciated the lessons he instilled in me. I was neat and made sure my house was at all times. I brushed my teeth without a mess and always kept a tailored suit and a good pair of designer loafers.

When it came to the woman arena, I was as clueless as anything. Menace didn’t date and even when he was entertaining someone, we never met them, and he was never around them long. By the time we got cool with him having someone, they were as good as gone.

With Stevie, I watched how he was and took notes. He cared for and loved her, and he wanted to spoil her. Make her life easier because it had been complicated thus far. He was a Menace to the world, but a saint to her.

I’ve had my fair share of relationships that never worked because my heart was never in it. It was always something that had me second guessing what I was doing, and I learned if I had to second guess anything, then that meant it wasn’t meant to be.

With Kennedy, I never second guessed her. I knew her life hadn’t been the best, and I wanted to save her. I wanted to make all the trauma and pain she experienced disappear because I was into her like that.

Was it love?

Nah.

It could be, and that was what pissed me off about her. She didn’t want to see where the shit could go. How it could feel to be in love with the right person who wanted to take care of her. Even when Menace found out she was the daughter of our father’s friend, she still wanted to work. He made it where she didn’t have to work for Case House, and she refused and wanted to continue.

Kennedy was fucking hardheaded, but I wanted to be the man who changed that. Allow her to lean into me so I could be hard for both of us. Aside from the Caselli money, and my trust fund, I had my own bread, too.

Working with Corleon, I could make money that had nothing to do with my brother or trust fund. It was the reason I had so many cars in the parking garage downstairs. It never got away from me that I was privileged.

I attended private schools and experienced shit in life that some people would never get to. I never went through the phase of wanting to be someone that I wasn’t. Even before we came into our family’s money, we were never starving.

Most rich kids wanted to experience the other side and hated to be referred to asrich.That wasn’t my reality because I embraced being wealthy. Waking up in my penthouse every morning was something I thanked God for.

Never having to question where money was going to come from was a blessing, and I didn’t want to stand on the block to prove that I had heart. I already knew I had it and was raised by a man who had more heart than any damn body.

Ruthless as they came and went to private school.

My social class had nothing to do with how quick I’d put this gun in yo’ fucking mouth if you tried me. I allowed myself to let my guard down a few times, and it almost cost me my life.

When it came to me and mine, I would protect them with everything I had. I was trying to do the same with Kennedy and she was playing games with me.

I pulledmy Rolls Royce in front of Tiny’s, and the valet jogged around the stand to come open my door and take the keys. Beans looked in his phone, making sure nothing needed his attention before he opened his door and hopped out.

It was the reason he was Menace’s top general. His attention to detail and always being on top of shit was why nothing ever happened without him knowing. “Welcome, Sir. We hope you have a great night,” one of the valet attendants said, as I stepped out.

“Appreciate you.” I slipped a hundred-dollar bill into his palm.

He paused and then looked back at me. “Put me on, man…. The fuck kind of Rolls Royce is this?”

I laughed. “Rolls Royce La Rose Noire Drop Tail.”

He held his fist to his mouth and hopped up and down. “Fuck… mind if I take a picture?”

“Knock yourself out.” I rounded my car and dapped one of the familiar valet attendants. The one who took my keys had to be new.

When Gabriel, one of Menace’s workers who worked in his garage, sent me the picture of his new whip he had got in, I needed it.

Menace hardly drove any of his cars. His garage was nothing more than a damn showroom of cars he liked to keep free of dustand dirt. When I purchased a car, I used that shit and whipped around the city because that was what it was for.

“Got everybody out here taking pictures of that shit.” Beans nudged me as we walked into the restaurant.

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