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I don’t know what the fuck was going on with the men in my life. Even though me, and Kendrix had our shit going on right now, him and Demarco were damn near the only two I could respect because at least they knew they couldn’t be faithful, and that’s why they weren’t jumping in relationships with women.

I’ll never understand a man taking vows, having kids with women, growing a family, only to go out there and cheat. That’ll always be silly, and goofy as fuck to me.

CHAPTER 9

JAVARIS ‘HITTA’ MITCHELL

“What’s the deal with these white boys again? I don’t even know why I let you convince me to meet up with these boys. I make good money doing this gambling shit on my own. Why we going to bring in a middleman. We doing good already. You feel me?” I asked Ced, as we walked towards the yacht.

He’d already pointed it out to me, showing me the huge, 100-foot yacht docked in the water. It was the biggest yacht out there. As we were approaching it, I saw that it had multiple decks, the windows on it were tented, along with the outdoor lounge areas.

Living in Miami, it’ll make you grow an appreciation for being out here on the water. The water and the yachts made me think of Deja. It was one of her favorite things to do with me. I loved those nights when she didn’t have to work, so I would book a yacht, have all my niggas pull up, and she would show up with her girls. I missed moments like that with her. All I had to do was treat that girl right, not fuck other bitches, and I would have never lost her.

“I’ve been following him on Instagram for a little minute now. His name is Preston. Rich ass white boy, and he’s only 25 years old. He’s eating so good off this gambling money. He likes to show off his earnings. This nigga made a million-dollars last night. He put in a 20 leg, and all that shit hit. Don’t take this as me dick riding him, but we not making shit compared to what him, and his homies making. I feel like they got some kind of cheat sheet with this shit. I hit him up and booked with him. Just to talk to him, I had to pay him five racks. If we going to work with him, and make that money back a thousand times, then it was worth sending it to him,” he let me know.

“That nigga put in a twenty-leg parlay and the whole thing hit?” I was still stuck on that part.

“Nigga, the whole fuckin thing hit. Look,” he said, pausing in his steps, so he could pull his phone out, and show it to me.

I needed to see that shit with my own eyes. The way I gambled, I never really went over a six leg. It was too much of a risk. The chances of a twenty-leg ticket hitting was really slim. I used to try that shit in the beginning, when I first started gambling because when you see what the potential payout could be, it makes you feel as if it’s worth the risk.

Ced handed me his phone, showing me Preston’s latest Instagram post. He posted it late last night. Preston was at the Hardrock casino gambling. I liked to gamble on my phone, but I spent a lot of time at the Hardrock as well. Preston showed off his twenty-leg ticket that hit, and sure enough, the payout was a little over a million dollars. He showed himself standing at the cashier’s desk, as he was handed over a million in cash, and stuffing it into a duffle bag.

“Damn,” was all I had to say, as I handed the phone back to Ced.

“Him, and his crew win like that just about every other day. Me, and you eating good, but I’m trying to eat like those white boys. You got a baby on the way. You going to need the extra money. When Joy gets to the final stretch of her pregnancy, she going to stop dancing. I’m sure she’s going to sit down with the baby for a while. With that, the bitch going to be in your pockets. Let’s see what these white boys talking about,” Ced let me know, reaching his hand out, so I could slap it up with him. The things he was saying were true, so after we slapped it up with each other, we headed for the boat.

Someone was standing outside to greet us. They walked us over, taking us up to the sun deck. This is where all the action was taking place. They had a DJ out here, and girls were walking around topless. We were the only niggas here. Everyone else was white. I looked around, taking in everything. There were about ten white boys, and they were partying already, flipping into the water, dancing with the girls to the music, and smoking weed.

The closer we got, I was able to look down at the table and see that weed wasn’t the only drug that they were doing. They had cocaine all out in the open like it was something that most people engaged in. When I saw that shit, I nudged Ced with my arm, and he nodded, telling me to chill.

“Aww man. You made it. Cedric, right?” that was Preston that walked over. I recognized him from the Instagram video.

Cool looking dude. He stood there with his shirt off, and a pair of beige colored Gucci swimming trunks. You would have thought that him and Ced went way back from the way he was smiling as he walked over.

“Yeah. What’s up? You don’t have to call me Cedric. You can call me Ced. This my partner, Hitta,” Ced did the introductions.

“Hitta. That’s a dope ass nickname. What’s up man? How you doing?” he asked, reaching his hand out to shake mine.

I’m used to meeting men and slapping it up with them. Preston shook my hand. He did the same thing with Ced. Once that was out of the way, he brought us over where the party was happening. He went around, introducing us to the men. The women were lusting over me, and Ced. A few of them already rubbed up on my arm, called me handsome, the whole nine. White women have never really been my thing, but a few of them were pretty as hell. After we did business with Preston, and chopped it up a little bit, I might dabble in it a little bit with them. It just depends how the meeting went.

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere where it’s a little quieter. Too much going on out here,” Preston offered.

We allowed him to lead the way. He took us down into the main salon. Wasn’t too much of anything happening down here. There was a bar area though.

Me and Ced took a seat, while Preston walked over to the bar area. He grabbed a bottle of Macallan, three glasses, and made his way back over. His ass didn’t even ask if we wanted a glass. He just poured and handed it to Ced and I. Preston lifted his glass, and me and Ced followed suit. We all took a sip from the glass, and after the sip, Preston sat down. He went for the couch that was in front of us. That way we could have perfect eye to eye conversation.

“Talk to me guys. What’s going on?” Preston got right to it.

Because Ced was the one that set this meeting up, he sat up on the couch, crossed his arms in his lap, ready to start the conversation. By this time, the yacht was moving. I looked out of the window that was ahead of me, seeing as we were leaving the area where we’d been docked.

“Like I told you on Instagram, I’ve been following you for a while. I know you sell your picks, so I’ve purchased picks from you in the past, and they always hit. You been on a roll this past week though. I’ve watched you make eight figures multiple times this week. Shit, I was inspired, so that’s why I reached out. Me, and Hitta already do our own thing with this gambling shit. We doing pretty good for ourselves, but it’s obvious that you’re doing better so we want to get put on,” Ced went ahead, and put it out there.

I liked that Ced wasn’t coming off like a dick rider. I’m sure a lot of people will probably get in front of Preston, and damn near start kissing his feet. At the end of the day, me and Ced weren’t broke ass niggas. We did well for ourselves, but I could see why Ced would want us to do even better.

“I appreciate that. I’m going to tell you two just like I tell the rest of these men that come down here, wanting to do business with me. Socal media is a façade. I’m going to always show the good. I’ll forever show the wins because I want people to be motivated by it. I take losses as well. Ya’ll are in the same business as me, so I’m sure you two know all about losses. I can win a couple of million today and lose it tomorrow. That’s the power of gambling,” he went on.

He was telling the truth. I never posted my losses on social media. It’s a sickness that you get to your stomach when you lose money in gambling. I’m used to losing thousands. This nigga just admitted to losing millions. Shit, I’ll be ready to kill somebody if I put down a million dollars on a ticket, thinking that it was going to hit, but it didn’t.