𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬

𝐕𝐈𝐕 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲

"Aye, Twizzler, man, what's up? How ya doin'?," he said out loud, dismissing his current clients for a moment and for good reason. Yeah, I bought all my watches here, but also put a lot of upcoming artists lookin' for a signature chain onto his shop. Shit, only reason he had debts was 'cause he gambled 24/7.

"Doin' aight. Imma need your help wit some'," I said, glancin' around his shop. "I got this girl, a special one, and I'm tryna get her somethin' nice."

"A special girl? Since when you get a girl? What happened with Madi?"

"Since a couple of weeks or so. And stop talkin' bout Madi. She been a dub."

"Fine. A couple weeks, though? You know her well?"

"Yeah man, I know her heart. Know she cute, smart, and she works hard. She deserves it." 

"Aw, that's nice man, mazel, really," he commented, a bit surprised. I've never come into his shop purchasin' jewelry for a broad, not even my ex, Madison.

The truth was, I'd been a little distant wit Yana lately and I could feel her slippin' away. We had our little lunch meetings 'cause she went to school at night, leaving no chances for any dates, so we found a lot of time to speak openly. Over a lunch date, there ain't no romantic mood to kill, so anything goes.

We spoke a lot about her dreams and aspirations, not because she was full of herself but 'cause I'd refused to let her in. She usually wanted to know personal shit about my life, but it was just too early to throw some scary shit on her shoulders and she knew it. Why give her a reason to run so soon? 

Nope, all she knew was that I owned my own company. At least she knew I wasn't no broke ass nigga, so it wasn't like she was wasting her time. Matter fact, I had yet to tell her about my deal wit' Apple, Sony, and UGM. She'll be proud of me, I know that for sure.

That was just the kinda girl, scratch that ... woman Yana was. I was shocked to find out she was only 19, 4 years my junior, but you couldn't tell from her manner of being. If anything at all, she was a hustla. Everything that girl owned, she'd worked for. Shit, most of the money comin' into her house and supportin' her family was her money. She'd told me about all the jobs she worked; I actually asked her at some point if she ever considered dropping everything and just start strippin'. She'd make a lot more money doin' that, but she'd laughed and told me she wanted to be famous, so she couldn't have that stuff poppin' up in her future life.

In my mind, she'd worked hard enough to deserve some luxury in her life. A nice piece of jewelry and a day outside, away from work and school would have to do for today. It'd be my apologies for bein' a lil' distant and, hopefully, to show her I was serious about movin' onto the next steps of our thing we had goin' on.

"So, she's a beauty, huh?," Rat asked me, already opening up cases of iced out necklaces and watches.

"Of course, man, let's be clear," I chuckled, dismissing his stuff.

"Oh, this won't cut it?"

"Nah, man."

"Ok, what about this?," he asked, opening cases of simpler, plain, gold necklaces.

"Nope," I said. "You got any high end designers? The latest Dior, Chanel, Bvlgari?"

He raised an eyebrow before saying, "Oh shit, man."

"Yeah, nigga."

"Alright, look. You're family, man, so I'll be honest. I don't have what you're asking me, but Bloomingdale's does. Go there and look for Lieberman. Dennis Leiberman. He'll hook you up with the new shit. Just tell 'em Rat's Ass from the Diamond District sent you," he told me. At my sudden laughter, he said, "Aye, don't laugh, man. It's high school jokes, don't laugh."