God took extra time creating and curing the clay of his being. His dark skin, not midnight blue like I dreamed, but the color of roasted praline pecans that had been cooked a little too long. My heart kept thumping in this beat I’d never felt before and each time I looked in his eyes it beat faster and faster. His eyes reminded me of my father’s ruthless and murderous. Empty but filled with so much mystery that I’m sure my sixteen-year-old mind couldn’t handle.
Boys weren’t high on my list of things to keep me entertained. Yeah, I crushed over Gavin and a few celebrities, but it was hard to keep my attention.
Hard to like someone that was the opposite of what I’ve been dreaming of all my life. My focus had been school and getting so far away from here when I graduated. But now, eyes locked on the plump pink and brown of his lips, I had developed my first case of puppy love.
Amell stood by the door with his hands crossed in front of him standing still like a soldier ready to defend and protect those assigned to him. His whole black attire made him appear that much more intimidating and dangerous. The single diamond stud earring in his ear gave him a little swag but didn’t take away from his menacing aura.
Amell.
His name is Amell.
My King.
Amell 23 Years Old.
Amell
Mitch started going bald before I graduated high school. He claimed that we, mainly Cassian, caused him to stress too much and lose his hair. His beard had turned completely grey but that’s about it when it came to his aging. Me, on the other hand, stressed every second of every day and my hair did the opposite. The more I stressed the more it grew, causing my barber to see me every eight days.
What had me stressed had nothing to do with how I earned my money. It all came from being the keeper of my brothers. Daily I dealt with all the drama and chaos that came with being second in command to Florida’s largest drug cartel. Like now, I sat in the middle of our Collier City warehouses in Pompano Beach listening to a grown-ass man try to convince me that I failed every math subject in the school system and forgot how to count money.
“Same song, different singer.”
“If you didn’t steal the money then who did?” Mitch sat on the bar stool reading the paper, not giving any inclination that he was flexed by Henry’s crocodile tears.
Sucking his teeth like a damn toddler Henry pointed at me. “Boss, when I counted the money it was all there. How is it that when Amell picks up the money, all of a sudden, a few bills have been skimmed off the top. That don’t sound fishy to you?”
Even I had to nod my head on that one. Henry and the few before him that placed themselves in the same scenario always had a good story to tell. Always gave Oscar performances to defend the truth of their sticky fingers.
“Amell showed me that it was you. Whereas all you’ve done is point fingers and swell your chest. I don’t move off accusations. Where is your proof?” Mitch scanned the large space until his eyes found Pacino who stood near the rear with a camcorder in his hand. With a slight nod, Pacino stood and handed the device to Mitch.
Henry scratched his brow that started coating with perspiration. “My proof is the missing money.”
“I see. Amell, handle this.” Tucking his paper under his arm, Mitch nodded to the group of men, gave Henry one last steel glare and walked out followed by his security.
“Bring Keisha to me,” I ordered no one in particular but two of my men moved.
“Henry’s eyes widened, and mouth slacked giving away the reaction I needed.”
“What you calling a coke bitch in here for?” I really despised a man that called a woman out of her name for no reason at all. Even if she did give him a reason, I despised the disrespect greatly.
I said nothing watching his reaction to her walking in. While he grilled her, I removed my watch and shirt. Blood wasn’t an easy stain to remove and my dude at the cleaners was getting on me about all the extra work he had to do to get my clothes clean.
“Come to me, Keisha.” I held my hand out for her to take, hoping she trusted me enough to know that I wouldn’t let a sucker like Henry touch a strand of her purple hair.
Blue contact eyes full of nerves and fear bounced around the group of men. I could see the beating of her heart vibrating through her shirt. This was all new for her. New to a lot of the men in here. We kept the woman that cooked the coke separate from any of the men. Keisha and the others were used to seeing three faces: Mitch, me, and Amp. Pacino on occasion. No one else.
The last thing I needed was drama in the warehouse because somebody slept with this person and that person.
“Are you okay?” I asked as she placed her trembling hand in my palm.
Shaking her head, she stood close to me. A lot closer than I preferred but I allowed it in this moment. “Yes.”
“Good. Can you tell us,” I pointed to the other men present? “What Henry asked you to do when he found out that you worked in the cookhouse?”
Tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear, she licked her lips and began fidgeting with her fingers. “Mama, he ain’t gon touch you. I promise you.” Pacino’s comforting words did more than give her the confidence to speak. Her cinnamon cheeks coated in a red hue from blushing.
“About a month ago Henry approached me and another one of the girls at this bar that we always go to when we leave the warehouse. He flirted and asked for my number and I gave it to him. We kicked it for about a week or two before he started questioning me about where I work and all that. I told him that I worked at Teleperformance in Margate, the night shift. It wasn’t until two weeks ago that I noticed him following me. My car was in the shop and I had one of the other girls pick me up.
“I guess he thought because I wasn’t in my car anymore that I wouldn’t notice him, but I did. We kept driving until we lost him. I didn’t want to take a chance of him knowing where the warehouse is. Anyway, once I saw that I cut him off and he got mad. He beat me and threatened to tell DCF that I was dealing drugs so they could take my kids. That’s when I came to you, Amell, and told you everything that he wanted me to do. I’m not sure how he found out that I worked for you.”
Keisha was smart. A lot smarter than I gave her credit for. I thought she would help him steal the money but instead, she came to me and asked what to do. I made sure to compensate her greatly for her act of loyalty. Once she told me what happened I told her to do what Henry asked and the rest I’d take care of. These days my wrath was only ignited when poked and I let Henry poke and poke until Mitch gave me the green light to handle it myself.
“Thank you. You can leave now.”
“You stupid, bitch.” Henry leaped to hit Keisha and I brought him to his knees with one hit to his throat.
Kneeling beside him I watched in boredom as he clutched his throat with both hands, eyes inflated and watered. His writhing on the floor did enough to annoy me. “I gave you several chances to come clean and you didn’t. Stand him up.”
Two men lifted him up by his arms. I barely touched the man and already his face was covered in snot and tears. Not wanting to prolong it any longer I cracked my knuckles and walked over to him.
“Look at me,” I ordered.
“Amell, man, please.” He continued to cry, doing the complete opposite of what I asked.