Coming from a life of drugs, money, and women, Michael "Meechie" Jackson had the world in the palm of his hands. He had power and his business, which he built from the ground up, morphed him into one of the most well-known drug lords in the city.
I...
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Irish texted Brian her answer—she said yes. He shared the location for them to meet up at Omar's place. Fully dressed in a casual/cute outifit, she looked at herself in the mirror attached to the back of the closet door of their presidential suite. Michael made his way over and stood behind her. He observed her styling her chestnut brown knotless braids into a small bun with the rest hanging passed her waistline. He raked his slender fingers through them, loving the way they were neatly braided. He moved a few braids behind her back just to kiss the right side of her neck.
"You ready to head out?"
"Yeah," she breathed out with her hands now adjusting the crossed-neck halter top. For some reason, the underside of her breasts kept spilling out more than they should, and it was the right size she was wearing.
"Might as well let them shits be. Big ass titties gon' stay falling out."
Irish looked at him in the reflection of the mirror and laughed. "Be quiet. They're only D-cups."
"I'm just sayin'." He raised his hands in defense. "But let's go. You got the room key and shit?" He patted himself down in search of the spare one that he found in the front pocket of his WLS streetwear stacked jeans.
"Yeah, I got it," she replied after a moment of silence.
"A'ight. C'mon."
Leaving the hotel altogether, they traveled the highway to their destination as Siri instructed on the Maps app. Several minutes later, they came in contact with the packed street where the block party was being held. Cars were lined up from one end to the other on both sides. "Your destination is on your right," Siri announced in a robotic tone. Irish immediately ended the route.
"Shit, ain't nowhere to park," said Michael looking both ways for an available parking space. As they slowly cruised the street, all eyes were own his foreign vehicle. It wasn't everyday people get to see a Rolls Royce strolling through, especially the new SUV edition that hadn't been released yet until the end of the year. Michael was one of the first few people to purchase it. The SUV came to a slow stop when someone flagged him down. He pressed the button for the window to automatically roll down.
"There's a couple spots further up for y'all to park. It's near the third to last house on the left," the unknown guy informed.
"'Preciate it."
With a nod as a response, the guy walked away. Michael pulled off with the window rolling back up. Finding the house he was told about where most of the available parking space was, he paralleled behind a black Silverado truck and turned off the engine. Irish contemplated bringing her purse but decided to leave it. She retrieved her phone, opened the door and slid out of the passenger's seat as Michael mirrored her actions. The vehicle beeped once indicating it was locked, and he waited patiently for his wife to make it to the other side where he stood. He held out his hand for her that she gladly placed hers in with their fingers lacing together.
