“You seem tense tonight. Is everything alright, daddy?” Apple asked, getting off her knees. She was one of the regular strippers I saw at least three times a week. I would come here to release my stress and be on my fucking way.
“What, you’re my fucking therapist now?” I asked, standing up, zipping my pants.
“No, I was just making conversation because you don’t seem yourself, that’s all,” she answered defensively.
“I don’t pay you to make conversation, I pay you to suck my dick,” I reminded her as I took $500 from my pocket and handed it to her.
“Whatever, Buddha,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. Females were always so sensitive and in their fucking feelings. She took the money, stuffing it inside her bikini top.
“I’ll see you maybe next week,” I began, making my way out of the private room of The Golden Slipper strip club. My eyes burned because I was really tired after such a shitty fucking day. Now it was time to go home and deal with even more bull-shit.
“Where’s daddy?” I asked my brother when I stepped inside the main house. My brother, sister, and I all lived in the same compound, but in separate houses. My father purchased over 20 acres of land and built the main house first. Then, as we all grew, he built all of us our own individual homes. However, I believed each of us spent most of our time at the main house with our parents.
“How the fuck would I know?” Vincent replied, sniffing loudly as he rubbed his nose. I looked at my brother and shook my head. Vincent, or Snow as he was normally called, was thirty-five years old, two years older than I was. This nigga, acted like a damn teenager most of the time. He got his nickname Snow when he was about twenty because he had a patch of gray at the front of his curly hair. Around his neck, he also wore an iced-out chain with a huge snowflake pendant. The nickname also suited him because he was a fucking cocaine addict.
This was the reason our father didn’t trust him to take over the business's operations, even though he was older. Vincent spent most of his days getting fucking high with his wife, Ciara. Ciara was the one who introduced him to his drug habit; they both were a fucking mess.
“Then why the fuck are you here if you don’t know shit. March your powder sniffing ass on toyogot damn house,” I fussed at him, taking my phone out of my back pocket.
“Man, fuck you. I heard you're about to be married and shit. Who’s the unlucky bitch?” Vincent asked, kicking his long legs out as he toyed with his curly mohawk.
“Nobody’s about to be married, fuck you nigga,” I said, waiting for my father to pick up the phone.
“I’m in my office, hurry up and get here,” my father said.
“Where’s Dior?” I asked, hoping he would say he had changed his mind and that she had left with her father.
“She’s right here waiting on your ass.” Next thing I knew, he hung up on me.
“Fuck,” I muttered, feeling as though I was about to get a massive headache.
“Is that her name? Dior?” Vincent was about to get on my fucking nerves with his questions.
“Nigga, go sniff a line off Ciara’s tittie and stop being in grown’s folk business,” I told him as I made my way to where my father was waiting on me. I let out a loud sigh when I heard my brother following me.
“Na, let me meet my soon-to-be sister-in-law,” Ignoring him, I walked toward my father’s office and knocked on the door.
“Come in, Buddha,” turning the knob, I walked into the spacious room. Vincent was heel to toe behind me as if somebody had invited him in. The first thing I noticed was Dior; she was seated on a leather recliner in the corner, her hands zip-tied in front of her. Additionally, she was now sporting a piece of cloth tied around her mouth.
I laughed softly as I bent my head, knowing she was probably spitting fire at my father, which led to him covering hermouth. She frowned as she looked me over. I just knew she was wishing she could cuss my ass out.
“Buddha, I’m too old for this shit. Take Dior to your home and keep her there until you two are to be married. She’s a handful and a half. I wish you good luck, son,” my father said, standing up from behind his desk.
“Wait, what the fuck am I supposed to do with her?”
“Jesus, what the fuck did I just say? Take her to your home and keep her there until it’s time for you to walk down the aisle,stupido ragazzo(stupid boy).” I ignored my father calling me stupid because I still hadn’t agreed to this.
“Where’s her father?” I asked, looking at Tomasso, who was making his way toward the office door.
“Lorenzo took him home. He won’t say anything, and I know he can’t come up with 50k in less than two months. Now, I’m going to bed to spoon with my wife.”
“That piece of information was so unnecessary, Daddy,” Vincent said, turning up his nose.
“Then go to your own fucking house, Snow.” his reply was quick. My brother and I remained quiet as our father exited the office. I then turned my eyes to Dior.
“This some fucking bull-shit,” I muttered, walking across to the corner where she was seated.
“Get up, let’s go,” I told her roughly. Instead of simply doing as she was told to make both our lives easier. Dior sat there angrily staring up at me. I didn’t mean to become enraged as I did. Bending toward her, I roughly snatched her ass by her shoulders and forced her to her feet.
