He wasn’t going to keep taking the short end of the stick, getting caught up Sauce and Mikayla’s bullshit. They he saw it, they owed him
at least
another fifty thousand. Eight goddamn bodies just dead as f**k in the middle of a crowded club …
his goddamn club
… they were begging a muthafucka to jam him up, he contemplated with disgust.
Sleezy lit up a cigarette and took out a tumbler and poured a healthy shot of some of his finest cognac,
Remy Martin Louis Xiii,
and tried to enjoy them both without thoughts of the hole Sauce had helped to dig for him. It was impossible. The only good thing he could point to was the fact that none of their bullshit had led to him being singled out and hoped it remained that way.
A knock at the door jarred his attention away from the shitstorm S
