It has been a week since I saw London. I've been quite busy handling the situation that happened at the party last week. The man who is apparently behind all that calls himself "prince of coke". This dumb ass ain't a prince in my city, and I'm going to remind him who's in charge of things here.
But before I get to all that, I gotta meet the guy who hosted the party. I almost got smoked out there so he better have a good explanation. I've been stressed out lately. I have no patience.
My leg no longer hurts so I don't need crutches. I still limp tho. The wound let a big scar.
I ask my driver Mat to drop me off at the designated location. As I get out of the car, two men point their gun at me. One of them take his cigarette from his mouth.
"Who the fuck are you ?"
"I'm here to see your boss."
"That ain't what I fucking asked !"
I take a deep breath and light up a blunt. A few moments later, a man comes to us.
"Dorian, I was waiting for you. Men put y'all gun down now. That ain't how you welcome a friend."
We shake hands then Tony leads me to his office. I take a seat in front of his desk. He asks for drinks to be brought to us. A lady comes in the room a few minutes later with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She's wearing a tight green dress that emphasizes her curves. Her eyes linger on me. I just take the time to appreciate the body.
"Will you please hurry the fuck up ?" Tony gets angry.
"Sorry." The woman lowers her head.
She pours the glasses and excuses herself.
"Dorian, I know why you're here. I want to apologize for the incident that happened last week at the party. I want to guarantee you that you are safe in my territory."
"Incident ? It's just an incident to you ?"
"I mean... For this assault."
"Who did it ?"
"Well we're still in the process of finding whoever planned that."
"I gave you a week and you're still in the process ?"
"Look I'm sorry about that. It's taking more time that I imagined."
"So you don't know who did it ?"
"I don't know."
"Merch."
"On my bitch bro. I don't know."
"Who's your bitch ? That woman with the tight dress ? Bring her here."
Only a stupid man would let his girl play the waitress for such a meeting. I would never even consider London's presence in such circumstances.
The woman stops in front of me. I order her to get on her knees, which she does.
