Page 5 of A Capo’s Love: Featuring A Don’s Love

“Keisha,” I warned.

“No,” she said, pointing a finger at me accusingly. “Don’t Keisha me.” She rolled her eyes hard.

“You been walking around this bar stressed, serious, and fine for no reason too long. It’s Fall. You moody, tired, and living at home, still worrying about your daddy like you his accountant and life coach instead of his daughter.”

I stopped tending to the bottles of Hennessy to place my eyes on Keisha. If we hadn’t grown so close over the past eight years due to her on and off situationship with my dad, I would have cursed her out. I looked into Keisha’s hazel green, cat eyes and frowned.

“I manage his business,” I corrected her.

“You manage that niggas stress,” she shot back. “That’s not the same thing. You twenty-seven years old, Mari,” she stressed with sadness locked into her eyes. “You need to live more, go on dates, and experience some shit outside of businesses.”

Okay, this is getting a little too deep…

I swallowed down the lump in my throat because the truth always hurt. I should have been doing more and even living more like Keisha suggested. Instead, I remained a daddy’s girl through and through, loyal by default because he had no one else to trust except me.

I detached my emotions from the conversation how Jeremiah Reed, my father, taught me best and rolled my eyes. I reached for the next case of liquor then used my box cutter to split it open down the middle.

“You doing too much,” I uttered lowly.

“I’m doing exactly enough,” she said. “Matter fact, as your bestie boo… I already lined some shit up for us.”

My hand paused mid-lift. Keisha was on some bullshit once again; she never ceased to amaze me.

Or maybe…she could be put in place by Dad to keep my mind off the sneaky shit he’s been up to… I blinked away my thoughts. I couldn’t help how low my trust was for others.

“What you lined up, Kee?” I tried my hardest to make my voice sound neutral.

I could feel my annoyance getting ready to make a delightful appearance; the next step would be me cursing Keisha the hell out.

“A double date.” She smiled proudly.

“No,” I said flatly.

“Yesssss!” Keisha whined.

“No,” I repeated, hoping she left the shit alone.

“You ain’t even hear me out on the details,” she argued.

“Keisha, I don’t need the fuckin’ details!” My voice elevated.

“I don’t like older men like you do. I’m not in need of a sugar daddy. I don’t want a nigga to fly me out and to show me how seasoned he is!” I snapped.

Instantly, I knew I probably said too much. An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I withheld because my words were the truth. I loved Keisha a lot, but we were total opposites. She had daddy issues while I had mommy abandonment issues. My dad made sure I wanted for nothing; he spoiled me rotten and made the time despite his kingpin status in the streets.

Keisha never knew her parents. She was born in the system and raised by fucked up foster parents. She lived her life in survival mode up until she met my dad. He toyed with her heart and used giving her money and expensive gifts as a method to control her.

I believed that my dad loved Keisha in his own fucked up way. He just didn’t love her enough to make her a priority. He didn’t chase or beg Keisha for shit. Dad didn’t give a damn who Keisha laid with outside of him, as long as she became available whenever he called for her. Keisha was thirty-four years old and beyond beautiful.

Sometimes I wished she saw what I saw whenever I looked into her beautiful hazel eyes.

“Damn, bitch, tell me how your mean ass really feel. That’s why I’m like the only friend you got,” she spat back, trying to hide her emotions.

“And I love you lots, thank you for sticking it out with me.” I cooed faintly to lessen the sting of my words.

“He’s a tall salt and pepper, suit and tie ass nigga. He walks like he got a big⁠—”

“Keisha, no means no.”