"Your brother know you out here tricking with these niggas? 'Cause I know that nigga, and I know he ain't the type to let his sister do no shit like this."
"Don't bring my brother into shit I got going on,"
"Nah, fuck that. I'm bringing him into it." His voice got harder. "That's my mans. So yeah, I'ma ask does he know his lil’ sister out here playing escort for these muthafuckas? What the fuck you think Yatta would say if he knew you was doing this shit?"
"I don’t know," I said quietly, and that was a lie as well. Yatta knew what was up, and he definitely didn’t approve of it, but again that wasn’t Sosa’s business.
"Man, if Yatta knew half the shit you been doing... shorty, he'd lose his whole mind. You know that nigga would body somebody behind you. And you out here being reckless as fuck, putting yourself in danger, putting him in danger, and for what? Some bread?"
"I need the money,"
"Everybody need money! That don't mean you gotta sell yourself to get it!" He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "You really think Yatta struggling to keep the lights on, keep you straight? You think your brother can't provide for you?"
"I know what the fuck he can do! But I’m not a charity case,"
"Nobody said you was! But you his blood, ma. You think that nigga wouldn't give you everything he got before he let you do this shit?" He turned down a street lined with big houses.
"You out here acting like you on your own when you got family that would die for you. That's the part that's pissing me off. You got options and you choosing this."
I felt tears burn behind my eyes. "You don't understand shit about me and my fucking life."
"I understand perfectly. You think 'cause that nigga fucked you over, you worthless. You think all you got to offer is your body. And you so deep in that lie, you willing to risk everything, your safety, your reputation, your brother's peace of mind, just to prove to yourself that you right." He pulled up to a gate, punched in a code.
"But you dead wrong, and I'ma show you that tonight."
His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. The gate opened and he drove through, up a long driveway. and then I saw his house.
"Awww shit," I breathed.
It was fucking huge. It was a modern two-story house with floor to-ceiling windows, clean lines, and a perfectly manicured lawn. There was a three-car garage, an outdoor patio, moodlighting that made the whole place glow. This wasn't some trap house. This was legitimate wealth.
Sosa parked in the driveway and killed the engine.
"Come on."
I followed him to the front door, still in awe. He unlocked it and we stepped inside, and somehow the interior was even more impressive than the exterior.
The floors were white marble. The living room had a massive chocolate brown sectional couch, a TV that took up half the wall, expensive art on the walls. The kitchen was all stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. Everything was clean, modern, and clearly professionally decorated.
"You live here?" I asked stupidly.
"Nah, I just break into random cribs for fun." He locked the door behind us. "Yeah, this my shit. All of it."
"You and that slick ass mouth nigga;” she said shaking her head, “But anywayyysssss, you live here by yourself?"
"By myself." He walked past me toward the kitchen, pulling off his suit jacket and draping it over a bar stool.
"You want something to drink? I got water, juice, Don Julio 1942, Remy 1738, I got whatever."
"Water's fine."
I stood there awkwardly in the middle of his living room, still processing everything. The house, the fact that I was here, the way he'd just commanded me to leave with him and I just did what he said without a second thought.
He came back with two bottles of water, handing me one. "Sit down, ma. You making me nervous just standing there."
I sat on the edge of the couch, and he sat next to me, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body.
"So," he said, taking a sip of water, "you done playing escort?"