Page 33 of A Kingpin's Weakness
CHAPTER 8
Seth
It was Southside’s birthday,and in true Southside fashion, he wanted to turn the city the fuck up.
So, Rich and I made sure that happened for our boy.
We pulled up to G-Spot, a local club that turned into a damn zoo every Saturday night. Bottles, bad decisions, and bass so loud it shook your chest before you even made it inside.
S3 was with his moms tonight. I should’ve been chillin’. But instead of enjoying the night, my mind was on one thing and one thing only.
Stormi.
Fine ass, hardheaded ass, emotionally unavailable Stormi.
She was avoiding me. I wasn’t dumb. I felt that shit. She hadn’t let me take her out yet, hadn’t told me a damn thing about what Ronnie said to her that day at the hospital. And even though I knew that old nigga didn’t stand a chance in hell with her, I still couldn’t let it slide. Not when he looked at her like she was already his.
That shit didn’t sit right with me.
As we moved through the crowd, Rich clapped me on the shoulder.
“Nigga, all these fine-ass bitches in here tonight, and your head in the clouds,” he said, grinning like the devil as we walked up to the section we rented out for Southside’s birthday.
I smirked. “Your head gon’ be between the washer and dryer if you keep playing with Lia.”
“You niggas think Lia so sweet and innocent,” Rich said, laughing. “She the one told me to bring one of these bitches home so we both could have some fun.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I gave him the look. “You say that now till she slice your tires and leave your PlayStation floating in the tub.”
“Whatever, man. You need a threesome in your life. Chill you out a little.”
“I don’t need two women. Just one right one.”
Rich raised a brow. “Let me guess, Stormi thatright one?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the truth was already written all over my face. “Still deciding. Shortie playing games, ignoring a nigga.”
We stepped past security and walked into the section like we owned it.
“Happy born day, my nigga,” I said, dapping up Southside.
He was already in rare form grinning ear to ear with a blunt hanging from his lip and a Patron bottle in hand.
The section was packed with some of Southside’s boys and a few wild-ass women who came for the drinks and attention. We blended right in. The bottle girls kept coming, lining up D’USSÉ, Patron, Casamigos… whatever we asked for. I grabbed a bottle of D’USSÉ and sipped it straight from the neck. No chaser. No pause.
Southside dropped down in the seat next to me, his arm wrapped around some girl with a red wig and fishnets.
He tipped the Patron bottle back and poured it right into her mouth. “Yeah, let me see how you swallow,” he said, not lettingup. The girl gulped it down like her life depended on it, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.
“That’s wild,” I muttered, watching but not really watching. My mind drifted again.
Stormi. Why the hell was she running from me? Why’d she let Ronnie get close enough to even have a damn conversation? I didn’t like feeling this unsure, not about her. Not when every part of me was already decided. She just had to catch up. And she would. Because I wasn’t the type to chase, but I damn sure wasn’t the type to be left wondering either.
“Look at your girl right there. She ain’t ignoring that nigga,” Rich said, elbowing me.
I turned toward the bar, following his line of sight and there she was. Stormi. Rockin’ a short white dress that showed off every curve like she knew what she was doing. Thick. Glowing. And standing way too close to some corny-ass nigga who clearly didn’t know his place. His hand was sittin’ on the small of her back like it belonged there, and he was leaned in whispering something in her ear.
She laughed loud.What the fuck?I know damn well that dude ain’t say anything that funny. She laughing like he Marlon Wayans funny. Not even close. I dropped the bottle of D’usse on the table and stood up.
