Vengeance by Zane

Author:Zane [Zane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2016-05-24T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Four forty-four Highland was a nice spot. It was a mixed-use space with a theater and entertainment venue downstairs, and some offices and apartments upstairs. The theater held a couple of hundred people tops. There was not any parking, but of course I was driven there, so it didn’t matter. As always, when KAD emerged from the SUV first, all the women started drooling. No doubt that I had the hottest security team on Planet Earth. Their days off varied, so I am sure they were collecting phone numbers—and pussy—by the pound. Tonight would be no exception. The chicks were thirsty and not even trying to pretend otherwise.

My entrance caused an uproar, as it should have. Being there was out of my element. Bianca rushed forward to greet me and then escorted me over to the step and repeat so people could snap flashes all up in my face. I was perfect, as always, in a Hermès white floor-length gown with my boobies halfway on display. My hair was up in a bun, and I was wearing a couple of million dollars’ worth of diamonds.

“I’m so glad you made it,” Bianca exclaimed. “Everyone is dying to meet you.”

“I’m sure,” I said sarcastically. “I decided to grace you all with my presence, but if too many people get up into my personal space, I’m leaving.”

KAD was not about to let that happen, but I was spitting shit anyway. As soon as I saw her face, I wanted to knock all her teeth out—fake bitch!

Bianca looked ashamed because a few people had overheard my comment.

“So what exactly is this little shindig all about?” I eyed this one chick who was clearly jealous of me. She may have been an aspiring singer or video vixen who wasn’t getting any play. People always want to blame someone else for their failures. I’ve never kept a single fucking person from achieving their dreams by going after mine. “Are these supposed to be the who’s who of Atlanta? I don’t recognize a soul.”

Bianca had to bite her tongue and then she said, “Yes, at least a dozen or so reality show stars are here. This is just a reception to thank my current clients, and I have a display of some of the interior designs I have created right down those steps.” She pointed to a crowded area down a few stairs and I could make out photographs on easels. “In about thirty minutes, Cherie will be putting on a fashion show with some of her designs in the theater.”

I glared at her and grinned. “In other words, you and your road dawg are peddling your shit. I ain’t mad at you.”

That “peddling” implication always got to her. I made a mental note to use it as much as possible.

“As for the reality show stars, I don’t watch train wrecks. What’s so appealing about watching thirsty-ass broads argue and scrap over community dick?”

“That’s not what reality shows are about!” Bianca exclaimed. “If you don’t watch them, how would you know?”

“Did you just break bad with me?” I stared her up and down.

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