Page 37 of A Kingpin's Weakness
I didn’t answer.
“What’s your business with Stormi?”
He looked at me and shrugged. “She offered to pay off her brother’s debt.”
I didn’t like that. Not one bit.
“You had her thinking that was her responsibility?” I asked, my voice hardening.
“She said she’d handle it.”
“Dead that shit, Ronnie. That’s your fuck-up, not theirs. You put Noah in that position. You deal with it.”
He gave me a look, something between regret and defiance. But I wasn’t going to argue with him; not here, not now. I had said what I said. Ronnie had forgotten who’s really in control now.
“Aye, this one for the ladies!” the DJ shouted, right before Glorilla’s new song“Typa”dropped and shook the damn club walls. As soon as that bass hit, the women went wild and so did the energy.
Even Stormi. My lady decided to bend over right there in the middle of the section and throw that thick ass like she didn’t know every man in this bitch had eyes. Her white dress lifted just enough to make every nigga in the room forget they had women. But all I saw was her. All I ever saw now was her.
Of course, Ronnie's thirsty ass didn’t miss it. His eyes went straight to her like clockwork.
“It’s dead, Seth,” he said suddenly, catching the death glare I gave him.
I didn’t respond at first. I was too busy imagining what it would feel like to put a bullet through his damn skull for disrespecting me with his eyes.
“You got you a bad one, young blood,” he added, like I didn’t already know.
I turned toward him slow, my voice cool but sharp enough to slice through steel. “Yeah. Just remember who she belongs to.”
Ronnie held up his hands and backed off. “You got it,” he muttered to my back.
But I was already gone mentally. I tuned him out, locked in on Stormi, watching every move she made. That ass had its own rhythm, its own gravity, and I was fully under the spell.
I didn’t care who was watching. She was mine. And every time she moved like that, I was reminded exactly why I’d shoot first and never ask questions.
I made it back over to Southside and Rich, who were vibing a little too hard to Glorilla. I dropped down next to them, grabbed my D’Usse bottle, and took that shit straight to the head. “Oh, y’all dudes some bad bitches,” I said, feeling the burn hit.
“Shit, Glo be spitting.” Rich nodded, caught up in the vibe.
Then my eyes landed on Stormi shaking that ass like she didn’t even have on that tiny-ass dress. She dropped into a squat, one hand up, winding her hips to the beat, bouncing hard. She was rapping every word, then bent over and shook it even harder like she didn’t care who was watching.
I shook my head. “Aye, I’m outta here. Catch y’all later.”
“Yeah, Stormi ass pissing this man off,” Southside joked, grinning.
“Shortie don’t care.”
“Fuck you niggas.”
“Damn, Nigga, I rode with you.”
I grabbed Stormi by the waist and pulled her out of the section.
“Call Lia to come pick you up.” I yelled to Rich before I exited the section with my arms wrapped around Stormi’s body.
“Where we going?” she asked, stumbling a little in those damn heels as we made our way out of the club.
“Home.”
