I Love Her (Chris Brown Story)

Seven.

Kaia

I wrote in my notebook as I listened to Santana's latest round of ideas. "You co-manage the club, Santana. If you want to set up the Uber Eats for the club, go ahead," I said.

"You get what I'm saying though, right? Niggas might want chicken and waffles and hot wings, but not ass and titties. That makes sense to you, right?" he asked.

I laughed and nodded, "It does, go ahead."

He clapped his hands in delight, making his acrylic nails clank together, "Let me go 'head and get out'cha way then." I looked up and saw him peering out my window that overlooked the club. "Oop looks like your rich ass nigga here," he said.

Looking down at the Patek on my wrist that my dad recently sent me as a "congratulations" gift, I saw it was just after midnight. This made my face twist in confusion, he's early.

"One, he's not my man, and how you'd know he's rich?" I asked.

Santana thought that any man with shining jewelry was a walking lick.

"A little birdie told me he was kin with that rich white man," he smirked.

I shook my head, "Caresha is a bird..." I said as I put my pen down and stretched.

"Bitch, that's beyond the damn point. He's rich which means y'all rich, which damn means I am rich.  I have been waiting to reap the benefits of y'all fucking with these rich as niggas!" Santana exclaimed.

I just rolled my eyes. "First off, I got money without a nigga, and second, we are just fuckin' and he is not my man."

"Kaia, yo' ass don't even believe that fuckin' bullshit. You like him, and just by the way he religiously strolls his big ass in here every night at 2:30 AM on the dot and you leave with him each time, he likes you too." He pointed his long acrylic nail at me and placed his free hand on his hip.

"Santa–'

"Hush ho', keep that bullshit ass lie you about to tell to yourself. The only thing that yellow nigga is coming up to get is that coochie, but keep lying to yourself and rehearsing that lie more to make it more believable. Toodles."

"Leave the poles to the girls tonight, Santana!" I called after him.

"No! Ima find me a tricking nigga one of these nights!"

I rolled my eyes at Santana as he left out of my office.

When Santana left, I took his previous spot by the window and took in everyone who was in attendance tonight. We had a few VIP customers, so my girls were putting in work to get the top dollar, as they should.

My eyes soon found Sage and to my surprise, he wasn't alone. One of the dancers, Cinnamon, was keeping him preoccupied and by the smirk on his face, whatever they were talking about had him amused.

My feet remained cemented in my spot for what felt like hours as my head cocked to the side. I watched as Sage and Cinnamon held what seemed to be a long, captivating conversation. My body suddenly felt like it were on fire. As much as I stressed to myself and to anyone who knew of our situation that he was not my man, and we was just fuckin', I didn't like what I saw.

Cinnamon stood over Sage with a grin plastered on her face and her hand on her hip. She twirled her hair around her finger, which was a dead giveaway that she was flirting with my nigga.

The craziest part of it all was Sage was sitting there entertaining the bullshit. I was furious because, for one, I hadn't seen him in days after he decided that he "needed me". He slept over at my house, fucked me as if he fuckin' loved me just for him to ghost me for over a week.