Remember that regular degular 21-year-old who had it all figured out? Well, surprise! Back to 16 we go, where teenage chaos reigns supreme and I'm just your average girl, in an alternate world as St. Hugh's pride and joy and head girl extraordinate...
She slams the door behind her. It annoys me, I heave a sigh and bring the vape to my lips before releasing.
I walk down the stairs, pick up my phone and head outside.
She bends over placing her sister on the ground. I can't help moving my eyes back to her round ass.
"Don't do that again," she scowls her.
Qara crunches her eyebrows looking up at her. "What dit I do?"
She hisses and throw both bags over her shoulders, clicking away on her phone. I press the button to my garage and get in.
The custom built in Alexa speaks immediately.
"Nickoi is that you?"
I don't answer. Instead I press my finger print in the door. She hums.
"What are you driving today?"
I smirk and get in the Huracán after grabbing the fob from the secret door. I don't usually drive this car but baby Qara likes it. I'm assuming her sister will too.
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My father is the modern day Pablo Escobar. Jamaica's very own narco-terrorist, drug lord and the anonymous machine behind the politicians.
Everything he says goes.
The shot caller and the Don of all Dons.
Owayne Jacobs.
The man in charge and with his net worth being $104 billion. Increasing in his sleep, it may change by tomorrow.
And so, I get to do whatever with my money that I earn through the business for doing nothing.
Or simply being the 'calculator.'
My father can't do maths to save his life, so he tells me each day that he needs me to handle business.
I'm the brain behind his business and paperworks.
If counting money on bill counters and weighing them counts?
That's the only maths he knows.
He wants me to take over. I can't escape it, it's destined since I was a child, so I was told. For that reason, I'm just here, with one foot in and the other...let's just say, on the track.
