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𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬
"how does it look, ms. banks?" i held my hands under my belly to hold it up a little as i scanned the interior designing of the building.
"i think it's perfect, you pretty much got everything to a t fa real," i said in awe.
"i'm sure he'll love it then," mr. blake said with a huge grin which i matched, "hell yeah."
"well please feel free to stay as long as you'd like, it's all yours. i have another appointment to make," he said excusing himself.
"yeah, no problem. thanks so much," we shook hands and my heels echoed as i walked through the club.
in a matter of a week, i managed to find a space for diamonte and amonte's club, it's all a surprise and no one knew i'd been doing this for them.
from the night he found out, i was already on finding them a new, safer space to their business efficiently. i had my financial agent help with the logistics and revenue should be no problem for the two of them.
"shit." i mumbled looking at my caller id.
"hey baby," i answered pressing the phone to my ear and leaving out the club, making sure to lock it.
"whea you at mama?" diamonte asked as his tired voice came through the phone.
"on my way back home, i went to get some ta eat." i told him.
"yo bean head ass supposed ta be innis bed on bed rest, don't fuckin play wimme kouture." he said and i frowned because i didn't like being scolded.
"i'm not playin d, i'm comin home right now." i said starting up my car.
"mhm, i'll be up." he hung up and i rolled my eyes, "bitch ass nigga."
