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CHAPTER 14

WARREN ‘WOLF’ BENNETT

“Wolf, you saw this shit? These all those young niggas that came in here the other day,” Chris walked inside the break room, where I’d walked off to, so I could grab something to drink.

Chris was the general manager at my shop in Miami. I appreciated Chris, and I made sure to give the nigga his praise any time I could. His job description consisted of so much, and that’s why the nigga was paid lovely. You could tell he was eating good. Shit, that nice ass Phantom that he pulled up to work in every morning was just one way of telling.

He handled a lot of things with the employees and had good relationships with all my high-level clients. If I wasn’t here, he had the leeway to approve certain transactions, and just ultimately be my back up person in the store. I had a certain level of trust when it came to Chris. He knew the numbers that were coming in and out of the shop. He knew codes to all the safes. For me to allow a person to have that much power, then it should tell you right there the amount of trust that I have for him.

It’s been a little over a year since he took on the position. At first, I refused to hand anyone the position because I couldn’t see myself giving anyone that much power. Back then, there was no way I would have been able to have a girlfriend because I was at the shop all day, simply because I refused to have someone run the shop while I wasn’t here. Crazy enough, my pops was the one to have a real conversation with me, telling me that I needed to hire a manager, so I wouldn’t be overworking myself.

I took his advice, did a bunch of interviews, and Chris is ultimately who I went with. I fucked with his résumé. I liked that he had years of experience in luxury detail, and all the references that he put down had nothing but good things to say about him. We had a relationship like he was one of my brothers. We could be business partners, but I could also kick shit with him.

Chris walked over to me, handing me his phone. It was one of the Miami blog pages making a R.I.P post for five young niggas. The same young niggas that walked in here not too long ago, trying to sell Oso’s jewelry back to me. I looked those young niggas in their eyes, telling them that they better take his shit back because I knew Oso was the kind of dude to come looking for them, wanting to kill them over it.

It was one of those posts that had multiple pictures, so I swiped through and sure enough, each young boy that came in here the other day was on the post. They were in the comments saying that no one knew who was responsible for the hit, but I was smart enough to know that Oso had put that hit out.

“Damn. I told them when they came in here that they were going to get their ass popped for taking his shit. Then, they tried to sell the shit back to the same jeweler that Oso bought the jewelry from in the first place. Dumb ass criminals, man. I could have held their little asses hostage, put their dumb asses in a back room, and hit Oso, telling him that they took his shit. They didn’t know the kind of time I was on, but they still risked it. Now look. All of them died because of it. I asked them their ages, and they were eighteen to twenty. Young niggas lost their life to some foolishness,” I expressed to Chris, handing him back the phone.

“Same shit I said when I saw it. Oso so smooth with it, so the world will probably never know that he was the one to put that hit out,” he expressed.

We talked about it for a little longer and then went back out front. It was Saturday, so things have been busy since we opened this morning. Everyone has been coming inside, wanting to get serviced by me, so I barely had the time to sit my ass down. I’ve been helping so many customers that this was my first time getting a chance to step away for a moment just to get something to drink.

I wasn’t going to be here much longer. I had to pick up my mom this afternoon because she had a meeting with a lawyer. She found someone, so I was going for support.

I went ahead and stood behind the counter, and the second I did that, the doors to the shop opened. Me, and Chris just spoke this nigga up. It was Oso walking inside. Security and everyone was cool with him, so when he walked in, he shook it up with the guards posted at the door.

Standing here, looking at this nigga from across the room, you would think he was an innocent man. Probably had a wife and a couple of kids at home, and he didn’t break the law. He had that pretty boy look about him. When he came around, I always fucked with him, telling him that he looked like Chris Brown. As pretty as the nigga looked, I knew that there wasn’t shit pretty about him.

Taking my eyes off him, I knew that that black truck parked right outside my shop was the black truck that he’d come in. I know it was shooters inside. Oso moved around like he was the president. The power he had, mixed with the status, I’m sure he had a shit load of niggas that were constantly gunning for him, so he had to move smart.

Oso made his way over to me, and reached his hand out, so we could slap it up.

“What’s good, Wolf?” he asked, with a smile on his face.

“I can’t call it. How you feeling?” I asked him.

“God is good, ain’t it? I wanted to talk to you about something. You got a minute?” he asked.

The way he asked, I could tell that it was one of those conversations that he didn’t want to have out in the open. Looking around the shop, it was too busy, and too many ears were around us. From where I stood, I spotted Chris looking at me. He was dealing with a customer, but also questioning me with his eyes, wanting to know if I was good. I nodded my head, letting him know that everything was cool. I then pointed my finger to the back, letting him know that I was going to take Oso back there. He nodded and went back to working with his client.

“I got a minute. Come on,” I replied.

I walked from behind the counter, and once I was on the same side as him, I led the way. I thought about the places I could take him. I didn’t want anything to look sketchy, especially since I had all these customers in the store, so I went ahead and walked in the direction of the private client suite. These is where the big spenders came to cut a check with me. I won’t even say that it was solely the niggas that came and spent time in the private room. Women came in here too, spending shit, wanting to add to their jewelry collection.

Oso spent a lot of money with me, so he was used to coming into the private client suite. Usually, whenever he came down, knowing he planned to blow a bag, he would hit me in advance, so that I could reserve something for him. He didn’t hit me this time, and that’s how I knew that today wasn’t a day where he was going to spend. I felt like it was business. I’m sure he was going to bring up those little niggas that came in here, trying to sell me the jewelry that they’d stolen.

I keyed in the code once we made it to the back. Just out of respect for him being the client, once I opened the door, I allowed him to walk in first. I followed behind him and then closed the door.

This was one of my favorite rooms throughout the shop. Everything about this shop had been a part of the vision that I had in mind for it. I wanted this room to remind you of a luxury boutique. The kind where you have to reserve a private client appointment with one of the client advisors. This room gave that. There was a color scheme going on in here of dark wood, with charcoal furniture. There sat a glass display case, showcasing some of the expensive pieces that I didn’t keep out front. Black, suede material couches sat in the middle of the floor. There was a spot in the room, where I stored some of the wine glasses, and cognac glasses because this room came with a complimentary drink.

“You good? You want a drink?” I asked Oso.

“Nah. I’m good. I appreciate that though,” he said, and like it wasn’t a big deal, I went ahead and took a seat in front of him.

Oso sat at the edge of the couch, with his legs slightly parted. His hands were folded in his lap, and you could tell he was thinking about where he should start. I gave him time. I didn’t say anything. I wanted him to feel like the floor was his. I also didn’t want to bring up anything. I was going to wait until he gave me the reason he’d come down to the shop to have a conversation with me.

“I got an appreciation of the way you getting money, Wolf. When I started buying jewelry from you, I told you back then that you were smart for going this route. It’s all kinds of dope boys, ball players, and rappers right here in Miami. We all want the same thing. We want VVS chains, Cuban links, all the fly shit that’s going to have our money standing out. The type of business that you’re running, you know for a fact that you’ll never go broke. Somebody can walk in this bitch right now and spend a house on jewelry. You’ll eat forever. I like what you built. I fuck with the brand,” he started.