HEMP

CHAPTER II

A couple of hours later, I woke up to the pilot's voice instructing us to turn off all electronic devices and to buckle our seat belts. Finally we made it to Seattle. Whenever I'm on a long plane ride, I always eat a weed brownie. It puts me straight to sleep so I won't be so bored on six to nine hour flights. The pilot O.K'd us to unbuckle our seat belts and exit. I grabbed my Fendi laptop case from the carry-on luggage compartment above, made my way to the exit, and strolled onto the terminal. A moment later, I arrived at baggage claim, grabbed my luggage and departed the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. I then went to the parking garage to pick up my whip, a 2016 Jaguar F-Type convertible that I copped for my twenty-fifth birthday last June. A whole weekend of rain showers had it looking too clean. I pulled out the parking garage, headed toward the expressway and skated onto the I-5 connecter. I rode that out for fourteen quick minutes, hopped on the I-90 connecter and then exited onto MLK Parkway. Nine minutes later I pulled into my garage.

Finally home. As I unbuckled my seat belt, my phone began to ring, sending Rick Ross's "Diced Pineapples" vibrating all through my car. I gave some of my associates specific ringtones so I didn't need to look at my phone to know who it was.

"Yo wassup Niniette! You know I just touched back down in the city—what's up with you?" I questioned.

"I can see, you're always posting everything for the 'gram but I want to discuss some business with you. Can you meet me for lunch at IL Fornaio's in thirty minutes?" she said.

"Yea I'll definitely be there. I'll text you when I'm close," I stated.

"Alright Dre, see you then," she said.

Then we both hung up. Niniette Jackson was a fine ass real estate agent from Atlanta, GA. After I started making real money in this business, I hit her up about this crib and we closed the deal for a smooth $2.8 million dollars. After the deal was done, I invited her out to celebrate and by the end of the night we had some bomb ass accidental sex. Then we kept having bomb ass accidental sex until we decided to just be friends that like to have accidental sex from time to time. I like to reminisce on those times, especially when I'm sitting in my garage.

After wrapping up my phone conversation I grabbed my Fendi laptop case and luggage from the back seat and headed inside my 5,053 square foot, three bedroom, four bathroom home, accommodated with an indoor pool that I barely use, a chefs' kitchen that I'm always cooking something in, and a secret garden where I grow vegetables, fruits and some of my favorite strains. Yeah this house really fits my needs.

I headed past the main living room, up the stairs, and all the way to the master bedroom. I decided to take a shower and get dressed for my business date so I immediately undressed, started my shower, got my Beats Pill out my luggage, and begun to play Erykah Badu's radio station on Pandora as I decided on what to wear. Since the rain had stopped, I laid out a grey Nike tech sweat suit on my California king size bed, then hopped in my warm shower and washed up for a good fifteen minutes. I dried off, walked over to my boxer drawer, picked out some all white Tommy Hilfiger joints, then began to get dressed. I walked over to my spacious walk in closet, went to my sneaker section, and grabbed some all cocaine white high top Air Force ones, as well as a Lexington sliver tone Michael Kors watch from my Louis Vuitton watch case. I lightly sprinkled on some Ralph Lauren cologne and just like that, I was ready for my business date at IL Fornaio's inside of Pacific Place shopping mall.

I was already running three minutes late, so I quickly made my way down stairs to the main living room, and into the garage. I started up the whip and then dashed out of the garage. Luckily Pacific Place shopping mall was only fifteen minutes away so I shot shorty a text and let her know I was in route. Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into the parking garage of Pacific Place shopping mall. I paid the ten dollar parking fee for three hours. Three hours... shit, a nigga might as well grab some fresh shit while I'm here, I thought to myself.