Page 92 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

“Oh, speaking of the devil.”

The comments went insane.

Answer it. Answer. OMG.

I declined the call.

“He’s probably somewhere punching walls right now.”

Another call came immediately after.

I declined that one too.

One comment asked: So why y’all broke up?

I stared at the camera for a second before answering.

“‘Cause eventually you get tired of babysitting somebody who refuses to fix themselves.”

I finished the rest of my tequila and stood up, adjusting my robe.

“A’ight, I’m done talking now. Y’all enjoy the rest of y’all night.”

Before ending the live, I smiled into the camera.

“Oh… and happy birthday, V-Saint.”

V Saint

“Everybody around me thought I was celebrating another year of success while I was trying not to fall apart in real time.”

It was my 36th birthday, and I was celebrating it in the club like I was 25 again. It was live. My fam surrounding me, fine bitches all over me, but mentally I wasn’t there. I had smoked more than usual and was working on my second bottle of Don Julio. My vision was blurry in my contacts, and voices were mumbled except for Vanessa’s and CK’s, because I knew they were watching me.

I was tired and ready to fuck Milan up. That live was circulating, and it was something I ain’t want nobody to see.

I’ma kill that bitch when I catch her, I thought as some girl popped her ass in front of me.

My mind just wasn’t there. A nigga felt like he was deteriorating on the inside. Work, long nights, competition, bitches… it was all wearing me down mentally and physically.

I took another shot from my bottle. I was so numb it went down like water.

By the time I finished the last blunt I had on me, I was gone. Spinning. I closed my eyes, but I heard yelling and cheering. I opened my eyes, and all I could see was sparklers and the DJ yelling, “HAPPY G-DAY, V-SAINT!”

Everybody around me was live, throwing money, singing happy birthday, and I was sitting there, elbows on my knees, folded over, staring at the floor. Pathetic if you asked me.

I wanted Sade.

I wanted a calmer life.

I wanted to grow the fuck up.

But how???

“I ain’t shit,” I mumbled.

CK and Vanessa must have known I was done for. All I could hear was Vanessa say, “Take my brother home. He ain’t feeling it,” and she was right.

CK helped me up, and I stumbled out the private exit. Valet brought my brand new blacked-out two-seater AMG GT Mercedes. CK got in the driver’s seat and let the top down.