Long As You Know Who You Belong To Read online

  Work ends now. I know that this place is going to look just how I envisioned it. So take your pretty ass to 9641 Sunset Boulevard and unwind. You’re my date tonight.

  -Grey

  I couldn’t contain my smile. I really thought I was going to have to put in work to get his ass, but clearly I’d done something right in the two weeks I’d known Grey. We’d worked closely on getting everything ready for the grand opening, but he had made sure that we remained professional. But now, not only was he staking his claim, but he was also showering me with gifts, and I hadn’t even given him a taste of the good stuff yet. I looked around at the club and decided that I couldn’t leave right away. Even though I’d managed to snag Grey for the night, I knew he wasn’t the type whose attention and interest was easy to maintain. This party still needed to go off without a hitch.

  An hour later, I walked out of the club and drove my custom painted, plum colored Porsche Boxster GTS to the Beverly Hills Hotel as the card instructed. When I arrived, the desk clerk let me know that I was booked in the Presidential Bungalow Suite. This nigga had really gone out his way! As soon as I approached the door to my suite, I remembered I was at this hotel without my essentials: my wand curler, my Carol’s Daughter hair products, my extensive make-up collection, and my Jo Malone Red Roses Body Wash. I used my key and entered the room anyway, figuring I would set my things down and run back to my loft. Two seconds after I closed the door, there was a knock.

  I opened it and in barged a heavy set woman with a large silver case and a rolling suit case, a tall slender model-like man with a super beat face, and a fumbling mess of a young girl looking as though she was going to fall over from the weight of the things she was carrying in her hands.

  “Excuse the fuck outta me? Who the hell are ya’ll, and why are you in my suite?” I stopped them in the hallway before they could get any further.

  “Uh-uh, boo. TyTy don’t do attitudes. I came up in here to beat a face, not beat some ass, but I will not hesitate to throw dem hands, honey,” the man said.

  “Do what you gotta do, but first you gon’ tell me what you doing up in my suite!” I wasn’t going to let up.

  “I’m Princess.” Princess extended her hand to me and I looked at that shit like it was drenched in Ebola. She continued. “That’s Tyrell, or TyTy as he likes to be called. And that’s Lola, our assistant.”

  “Again, the fuck are ya’ll doing in my suite?” I didn’t know if these muthafuckas were deaf or dumb, but they still hadn’t answered the question that I had now asked three times.

  “See, I told you this bitch was nuttier than trail mix. Let me spell this out for you since you can’t put two and two together.” TyTy clasped his hands together all extra feminine like. “The man that bought that shit and paid for your room called us in to hook you up for this boogie ass party you about to attend, ok?”

  He pointed to the girl who’d introduced herself as Princess. “She’s got your hair, I’ve got your make-up, and Lola got er’thang else.” He rolled his eyes.

  I looked at him and then at Princess, and my resolve softened a bit. “Well, that’s all you had to say.”

  “Lord Jesus, give me strength. I don’t need to catch a case today,” TyTy mumbled.

  I rolled my eyes. I was impressed with Grey’s gesture, but he didn’t have to hire this gay ghetto bird. Man or not, I would shoot a hot one right into his perfectly contoured face with the quickness. I pushed back thoughts of slumping his soft ass as I headed towards the door.

  “I gotta run for a second and get my personal items from home. I guess ya’ll can set up, and I’ll be back.”

  The girl I now knew as Lola stepped from behind TyTy.

  “Mr. Summers told me to handle anything that you need. I have his black card, so I can run out and get you anything that you may be missing.” She set down the load of things in her hand and then handed me another shopping bag that was hanging from her shoulder. “Mr. Summers already purchased toiletries, a few fragrances, intimates, and an outfit for you to wear home tomorrow.”

  See, this man was too much. I was a rich bitch by birth, so the price tag on gifts weren’t what was I was elated about. It was the fact that he’d gone out of his way to make sure that I was taken care of. That blew me away. I’d dated around a little bit, but no man had ever spoiled me like this, except for my father. Here Grey was doing this for me after a two-week long work relationship. If this nigga was trying to make me fall in love, he’d got a bitch. For real, for real.

  Grey

  May 2014

  A nigga was swagging tonight. I was the boss so it was only right that I looked like THAT nigga. Dressed in a pair of black J Brand jeans, a black John Varvatos button down shirt, a burgundy velvet blazer courtesy of Topman and a pair of black Prada loafers, I looked like money. The gold Movado watch, five carat diamonds in my ears and the black and white silk pocket square were just something light for the haters. Although I was a street nigga, my style game was impeccable. That was the one thing my brother and I still had in common. More than pleased with my look, I headed out the door. Because I had been laying low for a while, I decided tonight was the night to go all out. I hopped into the rented Porsche 918 Spyder and made my way to the Beverly Hills hotel to pick up Nakami.

  I pulled up to the Beverly Hills Hotel and Bungalows and stepped out to hand my keys to the valet. My intent was to go inside and grab Nakami, but before I could give the car to the valet attendant, she came strutting out the door.

  Fuck. Me.

  This woman was the epitome of beauty. Dressed in a white wrap dress with a real low v that made it impossible for her to wear a bra and neon green Giuseppe sandals, my dick got rock at the sight of her. Her toasted almond skin looked as if she’d spent all day on somebody’s beach, and her super thick frame filled out every inch of the dress I’d picked out. Her curly hair was piled up on top of her head with curly strands falling down in random places.

  Her smirk pulled me out of my haze. “You look incredible, Mrs. Summers.”

  She laughed at me prematurely calling her my wife. “Oh, so you tell fortunes as a side hustle?”

  “Nah, I just know my future when I see it.”

  Nakami blushed. “You’re too much. I really appreciate everything you did for me today. I’m impressed that you were able to nail my style. This is definitely something I would’ve picked for myself.”

  I walked around the car and opened the door for her and allowed her to get in the car. Then I walked to the other side and hopped into the driver’s seat.

  “I’m a fashion nigga,” I told her. “I like to dress, and I know what I want to see my woman in.”

  “Oh, your woman, huh? Look at you claiming me, and you don’t even know if I’m available.”

  “If you ain’t, fuck that nigga. He lost his woman as soon as I walked in your office.”

  Nakami tried to hide her smile, but she was struggling. “Mr. Summers, you just don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  Nakami

  May 2014

  I oozed out of the Porsche and slinked onto the red carpet that was just outside of the club, feeling like I was high on something foreign. Grey had this aura that was contagious, and being in his presence made me feel like I was untouchable. I’d planned to walk the carpet alone but Grey made his way to my side, grabbing my hand and smiling for the cameras. I couldn’t help the heat I felt rising in my body as he stood close to me. I wanted to say fuck this party, take him back to the suite, and fuck him a million ways to Sunday. But I’d worked hard on this event and was anxious to experience the final product.

  Grey and I finished posing for the cameras, took the elevator up to the rooftop where the club was located, and walked inside South Beach. Even over the loud music, I could hear Grey’s jaw hit the floor. I had really outdone myself. You felt the undeniable presence of Miami’s infamous South Beach as soon as you entered. Each booth that lined the walls was made to look like a cabana, with large,
plush, white beds and white ottoman poofs. Colorful curtains outlined each booth, and flat screen TV’s adorned both sides of each booth. The entire club was drenched in exotic flowers. All three bars were outfitted with Wet Willies frozen drink machines, along with every type of liquor you could imagine. My favorite part was the sand that led to the manmade beach, which was actually just a borderless infinity pool that extended to the outdoor patio. The cool blue water and white sand that led to the gorgeous view of the LA skyline made you feel like you had just been transported to the exotic location. Outside on the patio, there were more bed cabanas and large pillowy lounge chairs decorated with colorful throw pillows.

  Waitresses were walking around in white pencil skirts, gold sandals, and white crop tops carrying trays of food from the menu that consisted of foods like shrimp ceviche shooters, cubano sandwich sliders, and steak and cornbread tamale bites. There were hookahs at all the VIP booths, and I had also arranged for Starbuzz Hookah to give out free hookah pens to all the attendees. DJ Mo Beatz was starting the night off bumping my favorite artist of the moment, Future, and people were starting to filter in.

  “Ma, this is more dope than I could have imagined! You did your thing!”

  Grey slipped his hands around my waist, pulled me close, and kissed my cheek. I was surprised and delighted at his show of affection. This nigga had no clue what the heat of his body was doing to me. And if he put his lips that close to my face again, I was bound to suck them clean off his face.

  “Bay-be! You outdid yourself, bitch! This place is fucking bomb!” I knew the voice behind me immediately.

  I turned around and saw my best friend, Blu, strutting over towards us. Blu Buckley, aka Blu Bucks was my bottom bitch. I’d met her my sophomore year in high school, and we’d been rocking with each other ever since. She was the definition of a down ass chick, and she was the only female I had ever really vibed with. After high school, Blu went down to ATL to get her money up by stripping in one of the hottest clubs in the country, Magic City. And she came up, let me tell you. With a body like Melyssa Ford and a face like Keyshia Dior, Blu was one of the top earners at the club. She was banking upwards of five g’s a night and even more when celebrities stopped through.

  After a couple years, she started missing home so I begged my dad to invest in a strip club. With a little coaxing, he agreed and I brought Blu home to manage the place. She still did one night only’s every month, but she was the boss lady now and doing a damn good job making sure our strip club was the most exclusive in the city. I supported her, and she always had my back.

  I ran up to Blu and hugged her. She was dressed in a beige Herve Leger bandage dress and a pair of coral Yves Saint Laurent peep toe sandals. Her shoulder length blue bob was bone straight with a side swept bang, and I didn’t miss the large Stuart Weitzman hoops dangling from her ears. My bitch was bad.

  Blu pulled away from our hug and scoped out Grey over my shoulder. “Damn, daddy. Who the fuck is that? I need his number like yesterday!”

  “Blu, you better back down, bitch. That’s my nigga now.”

  “You got it, boss! But since when you get a man?”

  “Since today, nosy. This is his club. He came through my office last week and asked me to make his place the new hot spot. Then he proceeded to woo me with Michael Costello, a personal hair and make-up team, and the Presidential Bungalow Suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

  “Damn! After two weeks? Shit, he got a brother?” Blu joked.

  Grey swaggered up to us. “Actually I do. Ladies, this is my brother Kimani. Kimani this is Nakami, the party planner and my lady, and her friend...”

  Blu’s eyes lit up at the sight of Kimani. She extended her hand to him. “Blu. Blu Buckley.”

  Kimani and Grey’s parents had to have both been models, because Kimani definitely hadn’t missed out on the beauty gene. Standing about 6’3” with smooth butterscotch skin, light green eyes, and slick dark hair, Kimani reminded me a lot of Don Benjamin from America’s Next Top Model. Unconsciously, he licked his lips as he looked Blu up and down. He was dressed in a pair of white jeans, white button down, and cobalt blue blazer. I recognized the Gucci loafers on his feet and the Rolex watch on his wrist, so I knew his pockets had to be heavy. I winked at Blu, signaling my approval of Kimani.

  “Nice to meet you both.” He smiled revealing perfectly straight white teeth and one dimple in his left cheek.

  “Mmph, I’ve seen you before,” Blue told him. “Do you come to Clappers often or something?”

  “That strip club in Hollywood?” he asked her. “Nah, ma. I heard it be popping though.” He looked Blu over again. “You got the body for it, but I wouldn’t believe it if you told me you were a dancer.”

  “Well, seeing is believing, boo. Don’t let the corporate face fool you. I was the ass that started the twerk movement. But I’m the general manager there now.” Blu frowned her face up and began circling Kimani like an animal surveying its prey. “This is going to bother me all night.” Blu walked up on him, getting real close to his face. Grabbing his face with her hand and turning it to the side, she looked at the collage of tattoos that were on his neck and she smiled. “You’re a model. That’s where I’ve seen you.”

  “You remembered my tattoo?”

  “No, I remembered that big ass bulge in them Calvin Klein’s you were advertising. I just wanted a reason to touch you.”

  Kimani grinned. “The way you stretching out the fabric of that dress with all that ass and hips, not to mention ya cute ass face, baby girl you don’t need a reason to get close to me.” Kimani wrapped his hands around Blu’s waist and pulled her close to his body without breaking eye contact.

  “Ya’ll wild!” Grey laughed at his brother and Blu. It looked like the night was off to a great start.

  Grey

  May 2014

  Nakami had put on for a nigga. The club was slapping! She had celebrities coming in and out, the music was live, and to top it off I was walking around with the baddest bitch in the state. Press was there snapping pictures and taking video of red carpet arrivals, and all the gossip sites from Bossip to Necole Bitchie to Baller Alert were in the building. I knew that South Beach was already well on its way to becoming the newest spot to party in LA. Nakami and I had settled into a secluded booth in the corner of the club where the waitress had brought us our passion fruit hookah. We were enjoying each other’s company when two tall, muscular men appeared at our booth. I reached for the gun I carry in my waistband, but Nakami gently placed her hand over mine.

  I recognized the man that appeared from behind the bodyguards because he was a legend. Dressed in a clean black, Gucci tuxedo, an untied bow tie, and Salvatore Ferragamo dress shoes, he exuded power and his presence demanded everyone’s respect. His skin tone was dark for his Japanese heritage, and his jet black hair with a thick streak of gray was slicked back with what looked like an entire tub of gel. To be honest, he looked just like one of the boss niggas from Rush Hour 2. The long scar that started at the top of his left eyebrow and ended at the bottom of his chin was the only thing that made him recognizable to me. Not that I’d ever seen this man in person a day in my life, but he was a legend whose stories were the things hood fairytales were made of. This nigga was epic. But what confused me was why he was here. I didn’t know the nigga and, from what I’d heard, he didn’t really make many public appearances. A confused expression blanketed my face as I wracked my brain trying to figure out why he was at my shit. I didn't even notice that Nakami had left my side until I saw her rushing the dude in front of me.

  “Daughter, you've done a beautiful job!” He congratulated her and wrapped her in his arms.

  Daughter? Nakami was Hero Yukimura’s daughter? The chick whose back I was preparing to break after the party was over was the daughter of one of the most legendary drug lords of my time? I wanted to get up and hit my dougie, do the Nae Nae, do a praise dance, or something! Not only was the chick on my arm bad, but her family was the plu
g I needed to get back on top. I had come up on a gold mine, and I didn’t even know it. I had to play my cards right, because a hook up this proper could get me straight for life.

  “Thank you, daddy. Daddy, I want to introduce you to the owner and my client.” Nakami smiled at me sweetly as she pulled her father by the hand. I stood up to greet him.

  “Dad, this is Grey Summers, the owner of this club. Grey, this is my father, Hero Yukimura.”

  I extended my hand to Hero, and we shook. His facial expression remained like stone as he gave me a once over.

  “What do you do for a living, Grey? How can you afford to rehab a club and pay my daughter’s exorbitant party planning prices?” He smirked slightly at his last statement. Nakami playfully hit him in the arm.

  “I’m in the trade business. Unfortunately, business has slowed due to relocation,” I stated, hoping that he caught my drift.

  He remained silent for a moment, and then he nodded his head. “Is that right? Are you interested in my daughter?”

  “Absolutely,” I said without hesitation.

  “You're a strong presence, Grey. I too am in the trade business and may be able to help you get situated. Here is my business card. Call me Monday to set up a meeting.”

  He pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to me. I almost grabbed his ass and hugged him. I was too geeked. Although I had been peeping the scene for four months, as soon as I had set my sights on making my presence known on the streets things seemed to be falling into place with little effort. I wasn’t always the biggest fan of organized religion or church, but someone up there had to be looking out for a nigga, for real.