Shanice Wilson, born and raised in Harlem, moves to Atlanta for her new job. The company sets her up in a lovely cul-de-sac in an almost deserted part of the suburbs.
Nate Dylan is the president of the Dead-Eye Angels MC. He rides with his buddies...
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The loud revving of a motorcycle reverberates throughout my bedroom and shakes me out of my well-deserved slumber.
"FUUUUUCK!"
Every Saturday morning, it's the same shit.. My jackhole neighbor, Nate, , working on his motorcycle. I poke my head out of the window. "Hey Neighbor, would you mind keeping it down? I'm trying to sleep."
"It's ten o'clock in the morning, Princess Shanice. It's time to get up and start the day!" he shouts from behind his bike.
That motherfucker, who the fuck does he think he is?
"Whatever, asshole. Just keep that revving down." I stick my head back into my bedroom because there's no point arguing with stupid.
"Make me, Princess!" he hollers, getting the last word.
I roll my eyes. "Lord, please give me patience. Because, if you give me strength, I'm gonna need bail money to go with it"I mumble.
That's been my weekend morning prayer ever since I moved here four months ago. I relocated from Harlem to Atlanta, Georgia, for a new job. It was a chance to escape New York, a city that holds too many memories, most of them bad. Plus, it's true what they say, the Big Apple is the city that never shuts the heck up.
So, when the chance came to transfer to my company's Atlanta office, I applied and got the job. I'm the new website designer for Dylan & Smith, a high-tech company that produces fitness gadgets and sports gear.
The Chief Marketing Officer wanted someone with a fresh pair of eyes to improve the site and help with the marketing load. They've been running behind on projects ever since the department head left without explanation to start up a new branch in God knows where.
When I got the call about the job, I successfully negotiated a relocation deal. But that little move bit me in the ass. The company set me up in a nice, quiet neighborhood.,Well, so I thought.
The single-family one-storey home they've put me in is beautiful, except for the fact it's next door to an MC member. Yeah, those crazy dudes on motorcycles and leather jackets. My neighbor Nate is the Dead-Eye Angels' President, one of the most notorious gangs in Atlanta. Upon hearing that rumor from my colleague Marley, I didn't waste any time knocking on the HR's door.
How dare they put my life in danger by setting me up next to a gang member? Aren't they aware that those kinds of people don't like anything that looks like me! But as luck would have it, they have nothing available, and I have little saved up to move somewhere else. So, I'm stuck here.
Butmy current dilemma is my fucking neighbor. Every damn morning Nate and his "brothers" work on their motorcycles. You would think for men who are up all night partying that they wouldn't be up this early in the morning, especially on a Saturday. But no sir, they are living it up at ten in the freaking morning.
