A Thug Worth Dying For

Chapter V: Coffee and a Twix...

Chance the Rapper: Juice in the mm!

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"You never know who can be your best friend or worst enemy..."

Chapter V: Coffee and a Twix...

Ashanti Korda

Beep... Beep... Beep...

You got this. Get into character, be Tabitha... be Tabitha... bitch if you don't be Tabitha, you'll be dead.

My body was so tired, and I didn't want to get out of this damn bed. I had a long flight, and surprisingly, when I got to this huge mansion, the so-called "escorts" were nowhere in sight. Jayceon, the man that picked me up and brought me here, told me all about them. He said, and I quote, "Listen, shawty, there's four women living in this enormous, luxurious house, okay? There's the good, the bad, the instigator, and the one who talks shit. Now, you can decipher which you wanna be cool with or none of them at all. Just know... they don't trust easily, so if I was you, I'd watch my back. Them heffas with the shits, but I can tell you are too. We don't need no catfights. But other than that, welcome to Mimic's Playground."

I had to put myself into character and play like someone I knew I wasn't. This wasn't hard for me. Acting was never hard, but in this case, staying alive was. My arm slumped over the bed as I searched for my phone so I could turn off the alarm clock. It kept going off, and it was giving me a headache.

My fingers touched the aluminum material, and I hit the button. Sighing in relief, I slung my arm over my eyes as I was trying to adjust. This morning routine was never for me. I could never understand a morning person, and the jet lag wasn't helping either. But I had things to do, and I couldn't just sleep the day away. The smell of food made my body tense up. Slowly pulling my arms from my face, I listened to my surroundings.

I frowned when I heard some clanking. For a moment, I had forgotten where I was. But I began to focus, then leaned up from my medium-firm mattress. Flinging the cover off my body, I stretched and began to rub the sleep out of my eyes. Getting up from my bed and walking over to the black dresser and pulling it open, I pulled out some leggings and a tank top. My phone buzzed on the dresser top as I struggled to put one leg through the opening of the leggings.

Blowing a low breath of frustration, I picked up the phone, flipping it to seeing who exactly was calling me on this burner smartphone. The number was very familiar to me. I had to answer it. There was no way to blow off her call. She'd just call back... more than once.

Pressing the answer button, I placed the phone to my ear. "Hello, Brooklyn."

"Thank God. It's so good to hear your voice."

Rolling my eyes, I finally slid on the tight material and managed to pull the tank over my head. "Yeah. What is it? And hold the hell up... Are you crazy? You know you can't call me," I said with a harsh, hushed tone.

"Don't talk rough with me. I just wanted to know if you okay," she said with a relieved tone of voice.

"I'm okay, little sis. But the question is, are you okay? Did you stake the claim?" I said in code.

"Yeah, I just have to put on my big girl panties. Mom and Dad would want me to do this." She stressed.

"Exactly, Brook—" I stopped in midsentence as I heard voices approaching my door, but I could tell they were halfway down the hall, "Brook, I have to go. Love you. I'll get in contact with you when I can. Bye."