Page 42 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

“Two developers coming through, one contractor, and a bulk order somebody trying to lock in,” CK said, walking with me.

“Approve it,” I told him, not slowing down.

“I already did. That ain’t the one I was talking about,” he said.

I stopped and looked at him. “What else?”

“Randy Jewel is trying to buy in.”

I stared at him for a second, then looked away.

“Fuck no.”

CK exhaled low, already knowing how this was about to go. “That’s a big order, bro.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“He’s paying good money.”

I turned back to him. “Ion do business with my competition or whites… now which one is Randy again?”

CK let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You funny. He Black, and he ain’t your competition, he just move different.”

“Exactly,” I said. “He move different. Not like us.”

“He still got money.”

“And I still said no.”

CK stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. “That’s not a small no. Niggas watch what you do with deals like this. You turn that down; it can look a way. It can cause problems.”

I looked at him, calm, not raising my voice. “Let it.”

“You serious?”

“I said no, didn’t I?”

He studied me for a second, then nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t feeling it. Randy worked with people I ain’t rock with.

I walked off, checking on a shipment that had just come in, flipping through a couple of numbers in my head while I talked to one of the workers. Everything lined up how it was supposed to, but I still went over it again, asking questions I already knew the answers to.

That wasn’t like me, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.

CK called something out from behind me, asking about a delivery window. I answered him, but I had to think about what he said for a second before I responded, and that alone had me slightly irritated.

I grabbed a water, took a sip, and set it down without even remembering where I put it.

Brain fog, I thought. That was always a red flag for my mental health.

Everything was running how it should.

Everything was in place.

Still ain’t sit right.

I pulled my phone out, scrolling through messages I hadn’t touched.

Alana. Nia.