Girls Love Beyoncé

71

THIRD POINT OF VIEW

"I'm so sick of all this fuckin' rain," Onika mumbled, brushing water off her coat.

Waka sighed beside her, eyes locked on the double doors ahead.

"You miss the sunshine?" he asked.
Onika shot him a look like he just said the dumbest thing ever. In her head, he did.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, she thought, shaking the thought off.

"Come on. Let's get this over with," she muttered, heading straight for the doors. Waka followed, both of them strapped—guns tucked neatly under their coats.

The second they stepped inside, the sound of dice and chips rattling hit their ears. Casino lights bounced red, white, and black off the polished table where the men sat—men Onika had been learning, studying, watching.

At the head was Polito—her uncle, her blood, her partner in all this. The one who helped her keep her head straight when everything else was sideways.

Next to him was Leroy, that old Barbadian who kept tabs on everybody and still moved like he was thirty. Then there was Michael—a clean-cut white boy from the hills who turned out to be one of the sharpest in the room. Craig. Tim. And lastly, Jinwoo—the Korean man who never said much but always listened. Onika liked that about him.

"Ay, Nikki. Glad you made it," Polito said, standing up and pulling her in for a firm dap.

She nodded around the room. "This is Waka," she said, motioning to him. "He's stepping in for Domo."

Nobody asked why Domo wasn't there. They already knew—he got soft. Turned down millions 'cause the heat scared him. Onika left him in the dirt. No use having a little dog when you tryna run a pound.

"So," she said, taking a seat. "Catch me up."

Michael leaned forward. "Money's looking good all around. Everything been movin' smooth. Atlanta, L.A., Chicago—we all seeing profit."

Jinwoo gave a small nod. "Investments too. If we keep pushing like this, we'll have buildings with our names on 'em. Not just here. Overseas too."

"Big facts," Craig added. "Everyone's been on point. No one slippin'."

Onika stayed quiet, eyes moving from face to face. She watched the way they talked, the way they looked at each other. Took mental notes. Michael was solid—straight shooter, dependable. Jinwoo? Her favorite. Quiet, calculated, loyal without needing to say it.

Leroy cleared his throat. "We do got a little situation down in Houston, though."

"What kind?" she asked.

"Some small-time gang poppin' up. Young dudes. They been takin' from our supplies. Little bit of product gone missin'. Ain't big yet, but... they hungry."

"Watch 'em," Onika said. "Hungry ones get stupid."

"Already got people on it," Polito assured. "Just wanted you to know."

The meeting kept going for another few minutes—quick updates, future moves, a few jokes here and there. It was all sharp, efficient. Business was good. Money was flowing.

By the end of it, Onika actually felt... lighter. Not happy, not exactly. But not pissed off either. That was rare these days.

She stood, nodding again. "Y'all keep this up... we gon' be untouchable."

"We'll keep in touch," Onika told them. She gave a nod before dismissing herself and Waka with a flick of her wrist.

Once outside, the cool night hit her skin like a slap. Rain still drizzled, softer now, clinging to the edges of her curls. She yanked her coat tighter.