Page 38 of A Kingpin's Weakness
“I wasn’t ready to leave.”
“I was.”
She cut her eyes at me, attitude all over her face. “What that gotta do with me?”
I didn’t say shit at first. Just stood by the car, holding the passenger side door open, waiting. Patience thinning.
“Stormi,” I warned, voice low. “Don’t play with me tonight.”
She smirked, crossing her arms like she was cute. “Damn, I didn’t know my daddy was in the club tonight.”
I sucked my teeth. “Call me what you want. We outta here.”
Soon as she slid into the seat, I shut the door behind her a little harder than I meant to. Frustration sat heavy in my chest.
I tipped the valet for keeping an eye on my car, and keeping it up front worth every dollar; if you know you know. We peeled off into the night, the club lights fading behind us, her silence sitting thick between us.
A few minutes passed, then she shifted in the seat and said, “You can take me home.”
I glanced at her, then back to the road. “Stay the night with me.”
“I don’t do that.”
There it was again: her walls. Always up, always guarded. I didn’t blame her, but it didn’t make it any easier. I tightened my grip on the wheel, jaw clenched, trying to play it cool even though she had me hot one minute and locked in the next.
“I know you a virgin,” I said, keeping my tone low and steady. “I’m not trying to do anything.”
She looked over at me, confused. “Who told you that?”
“Shit... your mama.”
Stormi shook her head, looking away like she was embarrassed.
“That ain’t nothing to be ashamed of,” I told her. “For real. A virgin hard to come by these days. Even the high school girls out here acting grown.”
I wasn’t saying it from experience, that ain’t my lane. Just stories I’d heard, things you pick up over time. Me, you had to be in your late twenties for me to even entertain you. I wasn’t messing with no little girl. I needed a woman. One who knew who she was and what she wanted. Someone on my level.
“I’m not ashamed,” she finally said. “I just don’t like people in my business.”
“I’m not people, Stormi,” I said, eyes locked on the road. “I’m your man.”
She sighed. “Seth, please”
I raised a brow, glanced over. “So, you don’t want me to be your man?”
She hesitated, then hit me with, “I don’t do dope boys.”
I smirked. “Good thing I’m not a dope boy.”
She side-eyed me, skeptical. “So, what do you do?”
“I’m a boss,” I said simply. “Got multiple streams of income.”
She squinted. “Illegal?”
I shrugged. “Some.”
She didn’t say anything. Just stared out the window, quiet again.
