Page 15 of In Too Deep

I released a sigh of relief as I pulled up to the house to see that Trecee’s car wasn’t in the garage. Earlier, after I left visiting Reese, she sent me her location. I never checked it, and I never asked her to send her location. She always did it, feeling the need to prove a sense of loyalty, but she never gave me a reason to second guess it. I’m not bent or pressed about pussy that I know belongs to me, regardless of our family feud. For now, with a full plate and a glass of bullshit on the side, the only thing I could do is eat from it and allow everything to digest. I’ve never been one to complain about a full plate when my only goal was to eat.

SUNDAY, THE FOLLOWING DAY

According to my plug, he contacted customer service, and they had a glitch in the system. Now, under the correct tracking number from the email he sent me, everything showcased the correct information. After two hours of unloading the truck, the stockroom was filled with boxes stacked on a pallet. Business was still booming, so Javon couldn’t help me count the inventory. That could take up to a week because though we’re tallying iPhone models, they have to match the serial numbers given on the Excel spreadsheet from my plug. To make it easier, so it wouldn’t be a messy count, the iPhone models have to match the color-coded stickers on the back of every box depending on the iPhone model.

Since the latest iPhones were heavily anticipated, I unloaded the boxes from the pallet and started the count, checking off the matching serial numbers. In order, they were numbered, the first forty count ending in ones, the second forty count ending in twos, the third forty count ending in threes.

So far, shit was going smooth. I’d do it with my eyes closed, but it’d be just as easy to stumble across a hiccup. Unloading the second set of the fourth set of fours, I started my count, and that’s when I noticed shit started to look fishy, between the count. So, I wouldn’t stumble on a mishap and fuck up the count, I checked off the ones I could see. Apparently, this box was out of order, but that was expected. My plug wasn’t messy, but he always fished for accuracy. Finishing up, I walked over to the pallet and grabbed another box, noticing the side of the box was jacked up and ripped, like it had been kicked and stepped on.

“The fuck,” I muttered as I grabbed my box cutter from my pants pocket.

By the way, it looked like the tap was jacked up and messy too, it looked rushed, making me become infuriated.

Also, it felt lighter than the other ones did. Sparking my curiosity, I cut the box open to see about ten fucking iPhones. Instead of cutting up and acting like a fucking donkey about the shit with a store full of customers, I tallied up the counter and scratched off whatever I didn’t have. I continued counting inventory before closing time and put Javon up on game about the missing devices. Together, during closing hours, we removed the boxes from the pallets and went through them to make sure they contained forty devices.

“Shoot that nigga a message on WhatsApp with pictures so he can explain this shit to me,” I instructed Javon.

“I thought he usually sends you a picture of the pallets before they get loaded onto the truck?”

“He did, that don’t answer my question as to where half of the iPhones that are missing out of this box. It’s only the latest ones,” I responded. “I been knowin’ that nigga too long for him to be slippin’ up like this. Nigga gon’ make me act stupid round this mothafucka.”

“Naw,” Javon shook his head. “Ain’t no need to bite that hands that feeds you.”

“I done spent bread with that nigga, I don’t give a fuck what hand he feedin’ me out of.”

Walking past me, he walked over to the computers and glanced over the spreadsheet momentarily, then turning back to me a few minutes after. “How you know this shit have anything to do with him anyway?”

“I don’t know shit, but I’m addressing him first because that’s where it came from. You ain’t supposed to trust the plug. Either way shit go, it’s just business.”

He stroked before running his hands across the front of his cherry shirt that said Telo Wireless above the left breast.

“I’ll keep a lookout for his message. I can finish this shit up for you. I might as well send a text to our graphic designer about making a flyer for some shit for commercial use. So we can put whatever we have on sale in the next few days. Think that’ll be cool or is it delayed due to this shit,” he pointed at the dented box by his feet.

“Naw, money don’t stop.” I glanced down at my phone so I could shoot Synthia a text.

We’d been talking for the past few days after I dropped her off, but the text thread was dry for the most part. Holding up her end of the bargain, she was still making me dinner tonight. I honestly wanted a reason to see her fine ass. I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t stop thinking about her since then. It was something about her aura, her mentality, and her sweetness that turned me on. Not even the mere fact of her being Trecee’s cousin made me feel guilty. I’m a man, and nothing else gets my dick hard like a woman with ambition and drive to get to some paper.

THE NIGHTOF THE SCHEME

“Thank you, best friend,” Mimi grinned before plopping down on her living room couch. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I swear you always come through for me. That’s why you’re my girl.” Her hands slithered around my waist from the side as she gripped me into a tight hug, pulling my body into hers.

“I just need you to learn how to do hair. I can’t believe you spent six months at Empire Beauty School with Trecee and you didn’t learn shit,” I teased her.

Every other month, sometimes twice a month, depending on the style, I come by and do her daughter’s hair. Emily has very thick hair, it’s very soft and durable, but it’s so long that it can be too much to handle for a person like Mimi, who doesn’t knowhow to do hair. Sometimes she rotates between Trecee and me, but because of the feud we had, I doubt Trecee would be up to it.

Given that Emily was seven years old, braids were an appropriate hairstyle, eliminating the necessity for weave. A simple half-up, half-down hairstyle embellished with beads was quite suitable for a second-grader.

“Girl, I know how to do fye ass roller set and perm. You know they don’t teach you how to do braids in hair school, and white folks don’t get their braided,” she giggled and broke the embrace.

Shaking my head, I waved her off after running my hands over the hair mouse to lay down the loose strands. Then I passed her the mirror so she could gloat about how pretty she looked. Emily has a coffee bean skin complexion like her father, but she’s the spitting image of her mama.

“Do you like it?”

Turning around, she stood up from the couch pillow and nodded her head, giving me a gummy grin.

“Yes ma’am, thank you, tee tee Synthia,” she muttered softly before extending her arms for a hug.

“Aww you welcome tee tee baby. I love you so much.”

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