𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐆

81

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On our way back to Jamie house, I reapplied my gloss and made sure my clothes were back in-tact. After we ate, Blu and I chilled at one of his high-rise condos on Biscayne, ironically not that far away from the hideout. We rode the elevator all the way to the 60th floor and to my ass this all felt like a field trip while Blu thought it was just a Tuesday or some shit.

Chyna didn't tell me much about Blu except that he had heavy connects in Texas, Atlanta, California, Mexico, and Colombia. Needless to say, he was straight and the way she made it seem on how business savvy he was, dividing his money into stocks, bonds, rental properties, and barbershops across the West Coast, him And His kids was straight.

From what she knew, he was in the game since 13, a streetrunner for a big Cartel ass nigga who was gunned down when he turned 16. Luckily for him, he put him up on game, taught him how to coordinate a business and most of all, taught him how to maintain wealth versus getting money. Of course, along the way, bitches and babies came about because a businessman doesn't always equal a family man, but his babymamas was never blowing up his phone and honestly why would they? With all the pictures he had of his kids in his car, on his wallpaper, in his wallet, I'm sure he was more than well involved in their life and broke the mom's off well enough to make them back the fuck off.

His apartment was matte black, smoky grey and accents of burgundy all throughout the house. The kitchen was black granite top and the entire spot smelled of jasmine. Not sure if this nigga was fucking an interior decorator or what but I needed her number for when I got rich like this.

On his TV was a paused Madden NFL game and some crushed weed on the table. It didn't take much for me to realize this was his main spot.

"Daaamn," I whistled, groping the walls in admiration as I walked into his living room. He had a huge Italian Renaissance painting hanging on the wall behind his couch that caught my eye. I remember seeing some shit like this in my art appreciation class but I couldn't put my name on it.

"Dope shit, huh?" Blu stated, pointing over at the painting like he had read my mind or read my eyes. "That's the Venus of Urbino. Cost me 20,000 to have it imported."

With bulging eyes, I looked over at Blu with disbelief. "20-?! So this is the legit shi- Blu, why the fuck are you single?" I joked, when in all actuality I was dead ass serious. He had the looks, the money obviously, the charm. Something just wasn't adding up.

Blu just shrugged, plopping on the couch to begin breaking down his weed. I could tell by the way he kept having to rub his hand on the cloth next to it that it was sticky as fuck.

"When you tryna come up, the people you meet on the way sometimes don't be having the vision you got. They got the pussy but not the promise."

"Pussy but no promise.. Hm." I made a mental note to myself and sat on the barstool, checking my phone to make sure Jamie wasn't blowing my phone up to see where I was with her boyfriend uncle.

"You going to keep sitting over there or you going to come over here, ma." Blu quizzed with his eyes on the blunt he rolled to precision. His large tongue traced the edges back and forth slightly before he finalized the seal with his lighter.

"Oh, shit," I hopped off the stool and found a spot next to the sectional to put my feet up. "My bad, I didn't want to impose."

Blu lit his blunt a few times, inhaled, and blew out a large cloud of smoke after a few seconds with a smile. "Impose? Ma I tasted your pussy in front of a taco shop. Ain't no imposing."

We both had laughed at that shit. Not going to lie, I was feeling comfortable and the weed was starting to hit me even if it was secondhand. I was trying hard not to eyeball his muscles or his home too much but seeing him in such a relaxed state kinda made me curious to ask what was on my mind.