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Imagine wakin’ up, and the first thing you see is somebody standin’ over you with their phone in your face. Ni was talkin’, but I couldn’t hear shit she said, ’cause I was tryna see what had her so pissed off.

“Ni, slow the fuck down,” I said, sittin’ up and rubbin’ my hand down my face.

Ni paced back and forth, screamin’ and shit. “Juvie, she is mimicking my brand, down to her logo design. What the fuck? I’m so pissed off! And that’s not all! Even her lifestyle videos are just like mine. My followers are in her comments, tearing her ass up. She disabled her comments. Now, I have to spend my time addressing this shit, so they won’t make me out to be a bully. What’s wrong with these bitches?” she spat, tossin’ her phone on the bed.

I pulled the blanket back and stretched. “It’s too early for this shit.”

The fact that she had this much energy, and we stayed out ’til 4:00 a.m. and fucked ’til 6:00 a.m. had my head spinnin’. Her hands flew all around her face. She was mad as fuck, with a lopsided bun. I could tell she saw this shit in the middle of gettin’ dressed ’cause all she had on was her panties and a bra. She walked closer to me, still hollerin’ and shit. When she got close enough, I pulled her down on my lap.

“Juvie, this shit ain’t right. I busted my ass. I didn’t take a shortcut. I funded this shit alone! Stayed up for days at a time, making sure formulas were right. I’m so fuckin’ mad!”

“If you know that, why you lettin’ that bitch get under your skin? Calm the fuck down, drink some water, and make your video. Address that shit once, and whatever a mufucka decides to do after that, you gon’ handle it.”

“That’s not the point. She stole from me! I’ll never respect this shit!”

“I know. But turn that shit into money. Don’t sit with that anger on your heart. Calm down and use your head. Don’t get on that app crashin’ out. You been on bullshit lately.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and her jaw locked tight. Ni was a go-getter. She ain’t play about her bread or her brand. CoCo’s Temple was hers. As much as she got on my fuckin’ nerves, we still had some type of bond. A fucked-up bond, but it was still there. Probably that Stockholm Syndrome shit mufuckas be talkin’ ’bout.

She wiped her tears, then leaned into me. “I won’t crash out. I’m just pissed off. This shit ain’t fair.”

“It ain’t fair. But that’s life. Get up, get dressed, and make that shit even.”

I kissed her forehead and let her sit for a minute. A nigga was still half asleep. My head was throbbin’ from too many shots of Henny, and my stomach was on empty. She curled up on my lap, tryna get comfortable, but I needed to get my ass up.

“Come on. I gotta get up. My pops wants me to slide by. I ain’t seen him since we been here.”

Before I could walk away, she grabbed my hand, stoppin’ me. “Are you coming back? I don’t want to sleep by myself here.”

“Wassup wit’ you, Ni? You been extra clingy and shit. Ain’t shit gon’ happen to you in this hotel. Ya pops sent you wit’ security and everything.”

She snatched her hand away, then grabbed her phone off the bed. “Forget I asked.”

I watched her stomp across the room like a bad ass two-year-old, throwin’ a tantrum. When I locked the bathroom door behind me, she threw somethin’ at it. Her bein’ clingy and havin’ an attitude every time I left was gettin’ old quick. We ain’t have these problems in L.A. This was ’cause her stupid ass kept goin’ through my phone. Yeah, I was out this bitch havin’ my way. She made sure I left the club wit’ her last night, though. Popped up on me and my cousin Jante on bullshit. Kickin’ strippers out the section, screamin’ at me and shit.

What she should have been worried about was how close I was to sendin’ Juicy a DM. Shit, that was probably part of the problem. She knew how I been movin’ since that gala. Usually, I was softer wit’ Ni. A lot of this wasn’t her fault. Her pops put this shit on her. How we got here wasn’t her sin to carry.

By the time I finished my shower and got dressed, Ni had her mood right. She was sittin’ in front of her camera, talkin’ to her followers on live. My phone lit up on the nightstand right as I pulled my hoodie over my head.

Ni: Come over here.

Ni: One of your bitches is on my live talking shit. You better tell her to shut tf up before I call CPS on her.

Her eyes caught mine from across the room. Ni was pretty as fuck, but that evil streak in her always made me side-eye her. Callin’ CPS on somebody is wild. Shorty shouldn’t have been on her live talkin’ shit, but damn. I walked over to her, gripped her neck, and kissed her right in the middle of her video. We made that shit look good. In less than an hour, it would be all over the blogs and IG pages mufuckas had set up for us.

“You straight?” I asked, kissin’ her one more time.

“Yeah. If you’re gonna do all that, at least say hi to the chat.” She grinned, blushin’ and shit.

“Wassup, chat?” I said, wavin’ at the camera. Then I turned back to Ni. “Ima hit you later.”

I grabbed my keys and was out the door. If my pops texted me one more time, I knew he’d pull up, and I wasn’t tryna go back and forth with JaMario Ross.

Pullin’ up to my pop’s house, I could hear the bass rattlin’ the windows in his garage. The first thing I got for him when I went pro was this house. He told me, “Ion need no big ass house in no uptight ass neighborhood, Juv. Give me some regular shit I can maintain.”

He ain’t got a bunch of neighbors, so he could play his music loud and have his barbecues and kickbacks. He still had the same car I got him six years ago, but he kept that bitch clean. I pulled my keys from my pocket and unlocked the side door. When it swung open, he was bobbin’ his head and smokin’ his blunt; just chillin’. He grabbed his remote and paused his music without takin’ his eyes off me.

“Wassup, son-son? Finally made yo’ black ass way over here to see yo’ pops.” He smirked, standin’ up.