Page 62 of Queen of the Pole

I couldn’t let that fuck nigga have one up on me though. No way in hell I was going to let a motha fucka that sold chains for a living punk me. Swear I was gonna get his ass.

CHAPTER 19

WARREN ‘WOLF’ BENNETT

“You trembling. Why?” I asked Deja, as I was standing behind her, riding the elevator up to the floor, where the ballroom was held.

Tonight was the night of the Gala. It’s being held at the Biltmore Hotel in Coral Gables. It was a dope ass location. We had a driver bring us down here tonight, and the second I saw the building, you could tell that it was a lot of old money in here tonight. The kind of old money that showed up with a private chauffer. I’m sure men in there had on custom tuxes, wearing watches that was someone’s annual six- figure salary. Coming to these events, that was always the kind of old money in the building.

Everything about this location was top of the line. Nice ass fountains, the palm trees, and because the hotel offered valet, I was able to see all the luxury cars and black trucks that swarmed the building.

I’ve been coming to these Bennett Aviation Group Gala’s for years, but I’ve never come with anyone before. I always pulled up solo. Last week, it felt almost natural to ask Deja to come with me. I was about to shock everyone in the room when I walked in with her, but I was ready for it.

“Because I’m nervous,” she admitted, never turning around to look me in my eyes and answer.

I didn’t mind that she didn’t turn around because the view of her from behind was one out of this world. Having a mother that was into fashion, and loved to see another woman put together, I’ve heard the phrase, “You’re wearing that dress girl” from my mom to other women so many times over the years. Never really played too much into that compliment until tonight. I swear to God I fully understood what that compliment meant after tonight. Deja was wearing the fuck out of this dress, and I knew that me, and everyone at the party was going to think that tonight.

When she walked in the bedroom tonight, stood in front of me, giving me her back to zip the dress up, I was tempted to tell her to just take it off. That’s how good she looked in it. I just wanted to have her take it off, we skip the party and just lay up for the rest of the night. I didn’t do that, as you can see. I zipped her up from behind and had been in love with the dress on her ever since.

It was a long black dress, that hugged the fuck out of her. Her beautiful shoulders and chest were exposed. I’m not sure what that little black piece wrapped around her neck was called, but she had that going on too. Her titties sat up nicely in the dress as well.

Whatever she put on her arms, shoulders, and chest had her skin shimmering. I wasn’t sure if the oil, or the lotion did that. The dress was so long that you couldn’t see her heels, but I knew she was wearing a really high, skinny heel, but she’s been walking effortlessly in them. She styled her hair differently tonight. I wasn’t a woman, so I couldn’t explain it, but it was one of those looks that a black woman would wear on her wedding day. You know the style where the hair is pinned up with curls on top of her head, and then a long piece in the front was left out, covering her right eye? That shit was sexy, man.

She stood in the mirror tonight, doing her hair on her own, along with her make-up. That make-up was beautiful. Everything on her was beautiful. This was Deja standing in front of me tonight… not Poison. Poison had all the confidence in the world. Deja would often doubt herself and get in her head too much.

“You don’t have shit to be nervous about. This is not the kind of uptight party that you think it is. It’s an open bar. Motha fuckas about to be drunk soon. This not the space where somebody going to judge you. Chill out,” I said, reaching my hand down, and tapping her on her ass as the elevator doors opened.

When I tapped her ass, I got a glimpse of my hands. My knuckles were still a little bruised from having to put my foot in that fuck niggas ass last week. Deja called that shit out on the drive to her apartment. She asked me what would happen if he popped up. He did exactly what Deja said he would do. Because she felt so strongly about him coming to her place, the first thing she did was change the code to her lock. That nigga pulled up, and I just so happened to be waiting in the living room area, waiting for Deja to pack up more of her clothes, when I heard him at the door, trying to put the code in.

I didn’t have to put my hands on him, but I did that shit as get back for Deja, and he reached for a gun, so I had no choice but to do my big one.

What started out as Deja just coming to my crib until shit cooled down, turned into her going back to her crib to pack up most of her clothes. Truth be told, I didn’t know when she would ever leave. I didn’t want her to leave. We had a good thing going, and I wasn’t trying to mess it up.

We haven’t heard anything from Hitta since that shit went down last week, and for his sake, I was hoping that it stayed that way.

I had Deja walk on the side of me, and we headed over to the ballroom. It was a quick walk. Before I knew it, we were standing in front of the open double doors, where they had servers standing there with trays of champagne in their hands. One of them offered a glass to Deja and I, and we both accepted it.

Now, we were inside, and you got to see the black-tie event for what it was. Men were walking around in custom black tuxedos, just like I knew they would be, while women had on black flowy dresses. I saw plenty faces in the building tonight that I recognized. There sat multiple circular tables around the exterior of the ballroom, and each table was decorated nicely. Then, there was a huge, rectangular sized table that sat in the middle of the floor, and that is where me, my family, and close friends were going to sit.

The pianist played in the corner while conversations, loud laughter, and conversations filled the room.

As we walked further into the room, my eyes landed on my pops. He was holding onto a cognac glass in his hands, and it only housed a little left of his drink. He was standing there with about seven older white guys, who I knew for a fact had long money, just like my pops. Those men were investors, business partners of my father, and a couple were even private clients. All of them were doing that rich laugh.

My pops was deep into his laugh when he felt my presence. He did a double take once his eyes landed on me. I knew he was shocked to see me here with Deja. That nigga hit me with a nod of approval, let the men know that he would be right back, and then he walked over. My pops was a cocky ass man, so when he walked over, he did it confidently. He did it in a way like he knew he was the flyest nigga in the building with that tux on.

“What’s up, son? You keeping secrets from me? Who is this beautiful woman that you walked in here with?” he asked me, not being able to look me in my eyes because he was too busy looking at Deja.

This nigga really couldn’t help himself. He was looking at Deja like he wanted her. A lot of times, when he fucked around, it would be with younger women. My pops was a sucker for a beautiful woman, and that’s why he was damn near drooling over Deja, about to get the paws put on him like her ex-nigga.

He stuck his hand out for Deja to shake, and with her free hand that wasn’t holding onto the champagne glass, she stuck it out for him. He gently shook her hand, and tried to kiss the back of it, but I shut that shit down.

“Man, watch out with that shit,” I said it in a joking kind of way, but I was dead ass serious.

He laughed, purposely trying to show that he had those perfect white teeth, and deep dimples.

“I was being a gentlemen, son,” he tried to bullshit me.

“Be a gentlemen from across the room. You don’t gotta kiss the back of her hand. Where ma at?” I asked.