Page 46 of Cove City: Volume II
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Thank you, Pierre. Seriously, thank you.”
He kissed my forehead. “No, thank you for healing a part of me. Thank you for having a hood nigga like me. I love you Tuesday, the long way.”
A smile crept across my face because this wasn’t the way I had pictured love when I was a little girl, but I was happy I had found it.
“You ready?” Bishop asked me.
I tugged at my suit jacket, “Yeah nigga I’m ready.”
I had to creep out of the bed after the night Tuesday and I had. I took a quick shower and got dressed. I wore a midnight blue blazer with matching slacks, a black button-up, a pair of expensive flats, and finished my look with my gold chain, watch, grillz and earrings. Bishop was dapper as usual.
When we entered the establishment, the atmosphere smelled like rich muhfuckas. The dim lights, mellow music, and smell of cigars were the first things that hit you. There were only women servers. They wore a one-piece tuxedo body suit with fishnet stockings. All of their hair was slicked back in ponytails. They were in uniform.
“Welcome to For the Black Prestige,” the lady at the front podium said to Bishop and me. “Do you have your invitation?” she asked.
The shit was robotic, and it spooked me out. “Ay, Bishop, you sure about this?” I whispered.
The lady gave me a side eye. “Here you are safe.”
“Yeah, a’ight.”
She came around the podium and led us beyond a bookcase. When we stepped inside, all I could do was shake my fucking head. I didn’t even know this shit existed in the Cove. The walls were filled with different wines. Tables were spread throughout the space, accompanied by brown leather chairs. Whisky glasses sat at each table, accompanied by a box of cigars. This was some rich shit. Another woman came out of nowhere. “Please sit. They will be out shortly. We’re waiting for our other guest,” she said as she pulled the chair out, and once we were seated, she walked off.
I quickly turned to Bishop, “Nigga,” I laughed.
Bishop glanced around. “You got your strap?”
“Of course.”
“Good, I don’t trust this shit. Naheem could be up to anything.”
“You’re right.”
The bookcase we came through opened, and when I saw who had entered the room, I knew this shit was a setup. However, who he had with him surprised me. As many times as we’ve crossed paths with Chevy, I’d never seen the nigga in a suit, but the nigga came through stepping. He wore a black suit with a burnt orange button-up. The gold he finished his look with snapped. Alongside him was the young nigga who fought Keith. He wore something similar, but his shirt was black.
When Chevy’s eyes landed on us, he smirked. The young lady seated them at the large table, which we sat at, but on the other side. Bishop sat up and flicked his nose. “You and that little nigga are a joke.”
“Don’t let the age fool you. The name is Dionysus, a Godnigga.”
Before anyone could clap back, one of the wine cases opened, and five people came out. Naheem first, two older people,another man, and a lady. All of them in their finest wears. The hosts smiled as she introduced them. “Let me introduce you to the Black Prestige. Naheem Avery, Bobbie and Fiona Laureaux, and Clark and Cynthia Mercier.”
I leaned toward Bishop, “Nigga get yo pops,” I joked.
Chevy shook his head, “What type of secret agency shit is this?”
Clark Mercier turned toward him with a conniving smile, “Clark, relax.”
“Clark?” I blurted out. “That’s the nigga?” I asked.
“My name is June Calloway, muhfucka.”
Clark Mercier stepped forward. “We know your name, but the fact is you are a Mercier, whether you want to accept it or not. This grandson,” Clark turned, pointing around. “This is your legacy.”
Naheem stepped forward. “Clark, don’t get ahead of yourself. You are not the only one who built this. All of our investments did this.”
Everyone found a seat at the table. Fiona smirked. "The Laureauxs are here to provide mediation to the two families. As long as our money stays long and I mean longer than my husband’s dick, I don’t give a shit if you shoot each other dead in this room.”
