Married to the Money by India

Author:India
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Urban Books
Published: 2020-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe you just said that.” I laughed, and though problems were sure to come behind this, I was turned on by his brazenness.

“It’s true, ain’t it? So fuck him.” Cash lit a blunt like he hadn’t a care in the world. “If that nigga were getting the job done, you wouldn’t be here. So fuck it.”

“True.” I nodded. “So what’s the surprise?”

“Damn, baby girl, just relax and ride.” He blew Kush into my face and turned the music up.

As we rode, I tried hard to relax, although my phone blew up nonstop. I didn’t want to think about the drama waiting for me back home and was glad I didn’t have to. Being with Cash made me feel safe and secure. My problems didn’t matter when I was with him, and for that I was thankful.

Just as I opened my mouth to again ask what the surprise was, we pulled up to the airport. My eyes lit up as we rode around to the back and pulled into a vacant lot. “Cash, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to Jamaica.” He leaned in for a kiss, and my heart skipped two beats.

“Are you serious? I don’t have any clothes, shoes, panties—” I was cut off by a “shh” sound.

“Baby, when we vacation, we buy it all. Brand new socks and drawers.” He laughed and led me to a small jet.

A woman in a red and black dress met us at the bottom of the stairwell. “Welcome aboard the Horizon. My name is Olivia. I’ll be your stewardess. Would you like a tequila sunrise?” She was holding a silver tray with two perfectly made drinks.

“Thank you.” With a smile I took a drink and headed up the stairs like Mrs. Obama or somebody important. “Oh, my God! Cash, this is beautiful.” Like a person who was used to nothing, I lost my mind over the beige leather and wood-grain furniture. There was even a mirrored ceiling.

“It’s not the Rolls-Royce of jets, but it’ll definitely do.” Cash took a seat on one of the chairs and got comfortable. I did the same.

“I don’t have a passport. Don’t I need one to go to Jamaica?” Instantly I was worried that the trip would be ruined.

“Relax, you’re good.” Reaching into his pocket, he handed me a passport. There was no way the document was official, but it was a damn good fake.

“You always be coming through, baby. Thank you.”

“As long as you do right by me, I always got you, believe that.”

Seconds after takeoff, the flight attendant came from the back with a fresh bottle of champagne, a bowl of fruit, and a can of Reddi-wip. “Just as you requested in your pre-flight confirmation email, sir.” She placed the items down with a smile and walked away.

“Thanks.” Cash nodded deviously, then smiled at me.

“I understand the champagne, but what’s the fruit and whipped cream for?” I was confused but Cash grinned.

“Take your clothes off,” he demanded.

“What?”

“Take that shit off,” he barked, and I did so without any more questions.

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