Money Over Everything

Money Over Everything 2: The Re-Up

Moette

Money was my first love, and without even realizing it, Savant had become my second. It's been a month since I last saw him, and the look of hate on his face still wakes me out of my sleep some nights. Sometimes, I thought I was better, and I would get dressed to go outside and see the world until my perfume, the way I styled my hair, or even whatever dress I was wearing reminded me of him. If that didn't make matters worse, then there were frequent news updates on Damaris and the missing money from the First Continental heist that kept me from truly placing this entire ordeal behind me. There was only one way I could get over this and that was to—

"Moe," Juju said disapprovingly, taking a seat on the edge of my bed and patting my leg, "you can't sit in bed mourning that man forever. Go out, enjoy yourself, live life, and find someone that's gonna want you for you."

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my bedroom in my brand-new apartment I had been locked up in for the past month. "I'm not mourning him, Juju. I'm just not in the mood."

"You've been laying up in this bed funking it up, eating stale pizza, and watching music videos because of a man you only knew for a few months. The Moe I know would never let anyone come between her and her happiness." Juju gave me a gentle shake. "I know you're not gonna like this, but it's time for you to get over it and move on."

"You mean the same way you moved on from Q?" I said, knowing it was a sore spot for Juju.

Savant didn't keep the news of our heist to himself; Q ghosted on Juju and had been avoiding her calls. She gave up three weeks ago, deciding that if he didn't want anything to do with her, then she wouldn't spend all of her time moping around sad and distraught. Like me. Maybe that was because Juju knew what she wanted from life and wasn't a twenty-three-year-old woman whose biggest accomplishments were robbing banks and getting niggas for their wallets.

"The same-muthafuckin-way," Juju quipped with a neck roll and finger snap, eliciting a few giggles from me. "How about you come out tonight to my event? I could use the company. Plus, there be all types of fine ass niggas all up and through the club."

"Juju, the last place I'm trying to meet a nigga is at the club. The last one I met there—"

"Moe, please. What happened with Savant was a one in a million occurrence. It was also an honest mistake. No more complaining. You better come to my event tonight, or else I'm bringing the finest niggas of the night here, and we're going to party in this empty ass apartment of yours. Drinking up all your Henny, doing Cîroc shots off of your sleeping ass, and—"

"Okay," I huffed, pulling my blanket over my head and rolling over onto my side. "I'll be there."

"You better be," Juju warned, her weight disappearing from the bed. "You know I'm a woman of my word..."

Juju's voice trailed off as she left me alone with my thoughts and went to prepare for her night at Onyx, one of the biggest nightclubs in the city. It was a coveted spot and Juju had to fight a few bigger known names for it, but so far, she was bringing in more money than she could've imagined. Using her savings, she was able to flip her money ten times over by simply working two days a week. I had been bullshitting on going to support my girl, but it was better late than never. Although it hurts like hell, it's time to get up and get back to my normal self.

******

Onyx was popping when I arrived with the line almost wrapping around the corner. I wasn't worried about a line—Juju had been putting me on the guest list for ages. I bypassed it and slipped right through that velvet rope while the haters stayed outside talking shit. The music damn near knocked me off of my feet, scaring me being that it had been a while since I had been in a club. I slid right past the dance floor, not in the mood for anybody trying to grind on my ass, and made a beeline for the VIP section where Juju was located to address the crowd. I found her sitting with some baddies and a few honeys at a table filled with bottles of Cîroc, Henny, Patrón, and hookah pipes.