Page 31 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

“I need to hit the damn lottery or something. All I can do is window shop,” Cee-Cee said and laughed.

“Lottery or a rich nigga, something,” Jai said, sipping her drink.

Laila cleared her throat. “Speaking of rich niggas, how many of y’all filled out that V Saint application?”

All the girls laughed, including me.

“I’m serious. Which one of y’all been outside with him?” Laila asked.

The girls started looking around.

I laughed. “Don’t look at me, I’m the untouched one.”

Alana spoke up first. “We’ve been spending time.”

Then Nia surprised us, saying, “He’s cool… we had a moment or two,” she said calmly.

Laila laughed. I sat back observing. I could tell both women didn’t want to expose what they had going on with him, but I could tell it was a bombshell for both of them.

Two friends fuckin’ the same man was interesting.

“Well damn, how many moments he done had?” Laila asked.

“Enough to be his favorite eater,” Nia replied smoothly as she looked at Alana.

I couldn’t help but spit wine back in my cup.

Alana laughed low, keeping it classy. “She’s doing a lot, but me and him be talking. Nothing too deep.” She shrugged.

Nia shrugged back. “Mmm… that don’t mean nothing to him.”

“Besides sex, what’s he like? Is he nice, mean? Do he beat bitches?”

“He’s nice. No, he don’t beat bitches. He just hit you with a million questions,” Alana added. “Why? You tryna fill out an app?”

Laila laughed. “Please don’t insult me like that. Remember, I’m married to a basketball player.” She waved her big ass ring in their face.

I shook my head. “Sounds like that nigga everywhere. Y’all enjoy. Just make sure y’all ass ain’t fighting over him.” I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just tryna get a bag,” Alana said.

“And I’m just in it for dick and wings,” Nia added.

“Girl, you funny as fuck,” I continued to shake my head.

“Welp, what’s next for us? Let’s play UNO,” Jailyn said, standing up.

Later that night, when I was alone, I realized I got no good information out of the girls on Vaughn. Therefore, I pulled out my MacBook and typed in South Central housing project by Vaughn St. Clair. Three big condo-style buildings popped up, saying coming soon. It was an 80-million-dollar project fully funded by him and his family, the St. Clair Foundation.

Before I knew it, I had moved deeper into his personal life, his past relationships, the fact that he was fuckin’ every chick in my circle. However, his business resume outweighed the hypersexual bullshit he had going on in his life.

I put some numbers together and made my decision.

Me: Good evening. This is Sade. I’m texting to set up a meeting for the South Central project. I’m available between 2 and 7 PM on weekdays. I look forward to hearing back.

213-915-2685: You ain’t gotta be all formal, ma. Let’s meet tomorrow, 3 PM at the site. You come with a number?

Me: 500,000 per building.