“Where is our daughter?”
Shio turned the wheel, looking sexy as ever. We were in his Maybach, and it was fitting for the occasion. He was pulling out all of the big guns tonight, and I was so ready to end the night with him on top of me.
“Bahati, you just now noticing she’s gone?”
Turning my head to hide the embarrassment on my face, I watched as the bright city lights zipped by. I could feel the heat of his glare and knew I had to turn things around before the night was ruined.
“Of course not! I thought maybe you took her to your mother for a meeting finally. I was just wondering if she was staying the night. I wouldn’t mind having the house to ourselves.” I placed a hand on his thigh, hoping to cop a feel, but my hand hadn’t landed in the right spot.
“She’s not with my mother.” He looked down swiftly before removing my hand.
“Oh, okay. It’s your kid, too, so I won’t question you further.”
I left the subject alone. I didn’t need anything ruining our moment, including Shya.
Thirty minutes later, we pulled into a restaurant on the outskirts of downtown. I knew that because I could see the tall buildings in the background, and I’d seen enough posts on social media to know what Jagoda Bay’s skyline looked like, even at night. Cars that were in the same price range as Shio’s were being valeted as young Black couples stepped out. While Shio wore a diamond chain with a Jesus piece dangling from it, the other men wore two or three diamond necklaces stacked against their collars. It was gaudy, but since the beginning of time, that is what our people have done—wear our gold and jewels on display. When our car reached the front of the valet line, it didn’t take me long to realize that the restaurant had been rented out, and the people in front of us were Shio’s family and members of the mob. I recognized the twins and Ezio at once.
My door opened, and a young, brown-skinned boy stood aside so that I could get out. I turned my nose up because he was supposed to help me out of the car, but from the smell of weed wafting off his clothing, I knew this must have been his first day. Once I was out of the car, I pulled my dress down and could feel the valet boy’s eyes land on my ass. The dress was almost too small for bottom, but the way it wiggled as I stepped in the heels, I wouldn’t have chosen a more perfect dress.
“Gaaaaddamn, cuh! Dis baby mama?” A light-skinned boy, who I’d seen park the car in front of us, slapped hands with Shio. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him.
“Yeah. Bahati, this Italian. And this Ro.”
Ro didn’t speak but it was fine; I didn’t like the way he was eyeing me, anyway. The light-skinned teenager, on the other hand, was drooling at the mouth.
“Wait! Italian as in your little mannish, twelve-year-old cousin, Italian?”
He grinned and rubbed his hands together. “In the flesh, love. Except I ain’t twelve no mo’.”
“Park the car, Italian. But aye…” Shio pulled his cousin aside, turning their backs to me. “They good?” I heard him ask Italian.
“They straight, Big Cuz. Baby cousin was chilling with my Goddaughter all day.”
I mumbled under my breath. “Goddaughter?”
“You nosy…” The valet boy, Ro, interrupted my eavesdropping.
“I’m not. Why are you watching me anyway? And who valets cars dressed like that and smelling like that?”
He was in a black T-shirt and black joggers with black Air Force Ones. Given how all the guests who had entered the restaurant were dressed, he could’ve at least worn black slacks and a collared shirt.
“The nigga that signs my paycheck ain’t complaining, love. You enjoy your night.” He gave a tight-lipped smile while I rolled my eyes in response.
“You ready?” Shio came up next to me to escort me inside.
With a smile on my face, I didn’t pay the peasant a second glance. African American boys were carefree and often into drugs. That is why they stayed at the bottom of the barrel. Shio was not African American. His blood touched many bloodlines with his mixed heritage. With an Italian father and a Soliman and Melanesian mother, he was a made man before joining this mob. He didn’t fit the stereotype of a man with dark skin living in America. He had a work ethic that went back to his ancestral roots.
Once we crossed the threshold, the restaurant buzzed to life. The tables were empty but the lighting was dim, setting the perfect mood for a nice dinner. A piano was playing while a singer serenaded the crowd somewhere in the distance. My stomach growled from the spices permeating the air. I hooked my arm inside of Shio’s and nearly melted into him as he ushered me through the restaurant. Even with my heels on, he was still taller than me, and I loved that. I knew, in due time, we would make giant babies.
We came to a door at the far end of the restaurant, and when he pushed the door open, the chatter ceased. Beautiful women sat next to handsome men, some of the men familiar and others not so much. I smiled nervously as everyone inspected me. I didn’t know if I was expecting a warm greeting or what, but I surely wasn’t expecting to be eyed like the enemy.
“This nigga…” a handsome man whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. Because the room had gone still, his voice echoed, making it easy to reach everyone’s ears. He was sitting next to a woman who had to have had Asian roots. By the largeglacier on her hand and the diamond band on his, she was his wife.
“Demise!” She scolded him as softly as she could.
They were a beautiful couple, and she looked like she would be a woman of my caliber. Looking around the room, all of the couples were a perfect pair with all of the women rocking large, unique rings and dressed appropriately and to my taste. I was giddy thinking about how I would be joining the left-hand clan.
“Aye, y’all… This Bahati. Bahati, this is the family.”
