No Good For You

II

I blew out the smoke I had left in my lungs into his face.
"I gotta get ready." I answered.
He chuckled like it was cute and I tried to walk off again.

He held onto my hand and pulled me back into him.

"You're not puttin' on that tight shit again, are you?" he asked.
"What 'tight shit'?"
"When you got somethin' to do, money to get back, you put on one of them tight ass dresses I don't like." He took a hit of his cigarette as he stared down at me.
"Don't like it why?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Then I wear what I want."
"You also get your ass kicked."
"Kudos to you for being able to be both overprotective and abusive all at once." I complimented sarcastically.
"Quit fuckin' wit me, Leila. Don't put that shit on."
I just stared at him.
"You look like you wanna punch me. You feelin' froggy?" he mocked jokingly. He held the cigarette between his lips then put his second hand against the wall. He leaned over me as we held eye contact.

"I hate you." I responded.
"That's cute, princess. Put on some pants." he reiterated and walked off.

____________________________________

I had a dress I'd been dying to wear for a while now and this was the perfect opportunity. Just out of spite.

My phone vibrated as I was getting ready.

Psycho: "We're headin over to scope the scene. See you in a bit, be safe."
He and B always end their messages with 'be safe' as if they don't assign a bodyguard and driver to me every time I leave the mansion.
I gave the message a heart then turned back to getting ready.

I wore a red, satin, thin strapped dress that showed plenty of cleavage, it also had two slits on the sides that traveled all the way up to my hip bones.

I'm sent in to get products that's due. Drugs. Money. Weapons. Ammo. Whatever they owe B, I get. Or at least I try. I typically flirt with the men, get them to tell me a few secrets B wants to know, then start a fight, win, take everything. A few times (very few) I've been caught and Psycho or Riot have come in and assisted in handling the escalated situation. But these "business partners" know B. They have his face burned into their memories. When they see him, they run. Sometimes they don't know Riot or Psycho but they always know B. So they need someone unknown to walk in. Or else the target will make a run for it.

I left my room and headed down the stairs.

"Evening, Ms. Lewis." Malcolm greeted.
"Good evening, Malcolm." I replied.
"Lovely dress you're wearing."
"Thank you, Malcolm."

Malcolm is the butler. In this four story mansion we have one butler, two maids, and a chef. They're all very nice and welcomed me kindly when I moved in with the boys.
There are times I wish I hadn't moved in with them. Like I'm not allowed to be seen with another man. Well, I am, but not without him receiving the death stare and three guns to his forehead for his entire visit. I rarely have privacy only because they're always wondering where I am. Their father told them that if anything happened to me, he'd strangle each one of them with a leather belt. And he meant it. He said if I went crying to him for any issue or he found out I was ever in pain, he'd leave the three in the hospital for a year. None of us doubt that's true.
However, if you ignore the disrespect to my personal space and my inability to have a real relationship with them around, there are actually some plus sides. Like how I'm treated like a queen whenever I'm on my period. Not only do they leave me alone, but they make the maids and butler give me their full attention rather than the entire house. I'm never without money, I can ask any one of them for five hundred dollars and I'll receive it. Of course with different reactions.
B will slap it in my hand with probably an extra hundred and tell me to be safe or he'll kill me.
Psycho will go into his wad of cash flip through the bills and hand it to me gently but not without asking me to pick him up something while I'm out. Which I always plan on doing anyway. Then he tells me to be safe or he'll kill me.
Riot will look me in my eyes with furrowed eyebrows and ask, "For what?" to which I'll say, "Don't worry about it." And he'll reply with, "I ain't givin' you shit 'til you speak up." Then I'd roll my eyes and tell him what it was for. He'd hand it over and tell me to be safe or he'll kill me.
When I think about it, maybe there is a pattern in their answers.

Me and Rayne hopped into the chauffeured vehicle.

"Evening." Rayne greeted.
"Hey."
"Business to take care of?"
"Always is."
"You sure that's what you wanna wear?" he asked.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Riot and B know you got that dress?"
"Don't tell me you're in on it too! The only person that lets me wear what I wanna wear is Psy. Riot and B act like I'm walking around in the nude and now they've got you playing watch keeper for my outfits?"
"Hey, I don't care what you wear either. But they are gonna scold me for watching you leave the house like that." he stated.
I sighed and looked out of the window. I hate them.

____________________________________

We arrived at the club I was meeting them at.

I heard Rayne sigh and I looked at him.
"You're gonna get me murdered." he stated and nudged me to walk inside.
This was one of the most pristine and modern clubs I'd ever seen.

Everyone was dressed so nice, they had geometric couches everywhere. The bartenders wore suits similar to Malcolm's. I saw the boys sitting on a round couch around an also round table playing poker with a few other guys.

I walked further inside and found a different couch and table to sit at. Rayne across from me.
I was still in viewing distance of the boys.