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She rubbed her hand down my chest just as Juicy made it over to us.

“Mr. Ross, we’re ready when you are,” the photographer called.

I was glad he called me back. Sittin’ there wit’ Ni woulda made me lose my fuckin’ cool. Back on set, I ain’t have time to think about the bullshit Ni was on. My focus was on gettin’ this shoot done and makin’ it back to the East Coast. By the time I changed into the last look, Sav was already up, purse on her shoulder, and tablet tucked under her arm.

“Juvie, I’m about to head out. Everything else is in your calendar. I’ll send over the rest of the paperwork later.”

“Cool. Let me know if you need somethin’ else from me.”

“I’m the agent. I got this. You just focus on not messing up this shoot.”

I chuckled. “Aight, Sav.”

She looked at Ni. “It was good seeing you again.”

“You too. Be safe,” Ni said, smilin’ hard as hell.

Juicy pointed at me, then walked off. “And please don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“I can’t make no promises.”

“Exactly why I’m stressed.”

She shook her head and kept walking. I watched her leave, not even tryna hide it. Ni’s eyes were burnin’ a hole through me, but I wasn’t payin’ her no mind. The set felt heavier without Juicy fussin’ at everybody, which was crazy considering all these people still had shit to say about how I should pose. She lit up every fuckin’ room she walked into. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I wanted Juicy here. Not just this shoot, but all the time.

For the rest of the photoshoot, I didn’t say shit to Ni. She sat there with her arms folded, breathin’ loud like I was supposed to do somethin’ about it. Now, we were on our way to Yusef, and she was still doin’ the same shit. I turned up the music, so I wouldn’t have to listen. A nigga was already on edge. All I wanted was to get this shit done and over with.

Ni leaned over and rested her hand on my leg.

I ain’t even look at her. “Move yo’ fuckin’ hand.”

“You still mad at me?” she whined.

“Stop askin’ stupid questions, Niema. I’m not in the mood.”

She stared out the window and sighed. “I didn’t make him call this meeting.”

“Ion wanna hear that shit,” I snapped, then turned the music up.

The closer we got to Yusef’s house, the harder my heart pounded. Every time I came here, I left more pissed than when I arrived. He would say some shit to get under my skin. A threat here, a reminder of what I owed. ‘Oh, Juvie. You know the timeline.’ Same dumb shit.

One thing I didn’t miss about L.A. was drivin’ up hills and shit. But it was quieter up here. Unmarked police cars and security scattered around, protectin’ these rich mufuckas. I had been to some of these houses, knew the sick shit they did, and a lot of their secrets just from bein’ associated. Money always made shit look cleaner than it was. Every gated fence I passed had a story. These mufuckas were dirty; they just dressed it up right.

As we rode up the hill, I could see Yusef’s estate ahead. Ni started squirmin’ in her seat, preparin’ herself to see him, too, ’cause he was probably gon’ lay into her. He tried to make her somethin’ she couldn’t be. Ni was too emotional, and she really couldn’t handle her assignment. That’s why she was over there mad that I wasn’t givin’ her the attention she wanted.

The estate sat almost at the top of the hill, tucked behind black iron gates and enough security to make the White House look regular. The gate opened before I stopped the truck. Armed security walked behind my truck as I drove up the long driveway. I peeped the security cameras and the extra security tucked close to the house. The garden wrapped around the back of the house toward the terrace. As I pulled up to the front, it looked even bigger. Slate-grey stone along the sides, and thick glass on the front that you couldn’t see through.

This shit was set high above L.A. The only way to see his house was if you made it through the gates. And if you didn’t get invited, you ain’t make it out this bitch. Ni sat up straighter when the valet came up beside me. She was his daughter, but she still knew who ran shit. Not knowin’ what I was walkin’ into made me more alert. If I took my gun in there, them niggas wouldn’t do shit but take it, so I left it under my seat.

I stepped out of my truck, then handed my keys to the valet. The nigga never spoke; he just nodded and said, “Good day, sir.”

Ni was already walkin’ toward the door, grippin’ her purse. She was only this quiet when we came here, or when he popped up on us. We both waited at the door until it opened. Yusef’s butler, Solomon, swung open the door and handed us warm towels as we stepped inside.

“Mr. Ross, Ms. Scott. Mr. Scott is waiting for you on the terrace.”

I wiped my hands, then passed the towel back to him. Ni kept hers as we followed Solomon. The white marble floors had real gold in them. More security cameras were placed around to catch every fuckin’ angle of whoever came through here. This nigga probably had half a billion dollars’ worth of art on the walls alone. Rare jewels in display cases. Two big ass statues right beside the twelve-foot French doors that were already open.

On the terrace, Yusef had his back turned to us. He owned three big ass Great Danes. One stretched out by his feet, another sat beside him, lettin’ him rub his head, and the third, Mogli, watched us. That was his guard dog. The other two were just pets. He had a guard standin’ off to the side by the table, and the other four were walkin’ around casually, but there was nothin’ casual ’bout them niggas.