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She finally popped up, pixie cut sweated out, lipstick smeared down to her chin.

“Damn, good morning to you too.”

“Mornin’. You gotta go.”

She grabbed her phone, then jumped out the bed like a fuckin’ Avenger. “Nigga, it’s 8:30.”

“And?” I said, sitting up and scrollin’ through my phone.

“You rude as fuck.”

She stomped around the room, gettin’ her shit. If shit wasn’t hot right now, I’d have her on her back again. Nubia went into the bathroom but kept the door open. She was peeing loud as hell.

“Aye! Close the fuckin’ door. Ion wanna hear that shit.”

“Nigga, fuck you!”

I opened IG, and I had over 500 notifications. People taggin’ me in shit. Messy ass blogs showin’ me leavin’ the club with Nubia. They had a blurred picture of Juicy wit’ her back turned, but that wasn’t nothin’. The fuckin’ comments were flooded, talkin’ ’bout how Ni was better than them. How they would catch a charge fuckin’ wit’ me. All kinda crazy ass shit. I dropped my phone on the nightstand, then got up and headed for the bathroom. As I was walkin’ in, Nubia came out, already dressed. Her eyes went right to my dick, then back up to my face.

“Uhm… You gon’ get me an Uber, nigga?”

I cocked my head. “Now, if you woulda asked me nicely, I woulda asked my driver to take yo’ ass home. Call yo’ own Uber and get the fuck outta my room. Fuck wrong wit’ you?”

I brushed past her and walked into the bathroom. She slammed some shit around, then it got quiet. As I was washin’ my hands, my phone started ringin’ again. After this, I was turnin’ that bitch off. I walked back into the room, and Luke’s name lit up the screen.

“What?” I barked into the phone.

“What the fuck are you doing, Juvie?”

I chuckled, walkin’ back toward the bathroom. “Mornin’, Luke. You get some pussy today, nigga?”

“Juvie… I’m serious. You’ve been back in Baltimore for what? A few weeks? And every other day, you’re in the damn blogs. Strip clubs, different women, hanging out in neighborhoods you should never have been seen in. And now you’re leaving clubs with strippers while Niema is across the country! Come on. Help me out here!”

I turned on the shower and pulled my phone from my face. “You my agent or my fuckin’ pops?”

Luke exhaled hard into the phone. “I’m the person who’s in charge of cleaning up your shit.”

“Then clean it up. Ain’t that what I pay you for?”

He laughed. “You think this shit is only a PR issue?”

I put it on speaker, then stepped into the shower. “What is it then? I ain’t got time to be goin’ back and forth wit’ you.”

“You do realize people are invested in you, right? You’re an asset, and you need to start acting like it.”

“But you ain’t invested in me. I pay you, nigga. Know your role in this shit.”

“Oh, my God!” he yelled into the phone. “You only have three more years. Why are you makin’ this harder than it has to be?”

I turned my head toward the phone, water beatin’ down on my shoulders. “See, that’s where you got me fucked up.”

“Juvie—”

“Nah. You step outta line too much. Them three years ain’t got nothin’ to do wit’ you doin’ yo’ fuckin’ job.”

Luke got quiet.

I grabbed my bodywash and lathered up. “You supposed to negotiate my contracts, get my endorsements, and make sure my money right. You don’t even do that right! All that other shit? Stay the fuck out of it.”