BANDIT

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Real men move in silence! I don't talk a lot I let my actions and possession do the talk for me! I'm young and I grind harder! – Michael Ace

A Month Later...

Knight... 

"78...79...80...81...82." My personal trainer June counts as I do sit ups. Since I've been home, I've been working thanks to that job Jefe got me. It's funny as hell though, because I'm a big ass dude, with a button up and tie at a desk. Looking like hulk and shit. But it's cool, the pay and staying out of the pin is all that really matters.

It's been pretty quiet for the most part since I've been home. Word on the street is Sirod is trying to kill a nigga, but she got another thing coming. She also has no clue what to do, with no plan or crew. The only people she has are her twin daughters, and they bout dumb as their mother.

It amused me that Sirod thought she was staying in my house though when I got out. The house is still in my name and the cars. She couldn't change shit to her name, because she got married to that clown Dimitri. She would have to either use  her real name or ask for the divorce. And we all know she wasn't doing that shit. 

"99...100." June finishes. I sit up out of breath, grabbing my Deer Park squeeze bottle and gulping the water down to a finish. I throw the bottle away.

"Aye that's my shit turn that up." I tell him. He laughs, shaking his head while doing as requested. I stand to my feet, going over to the weights picking up the 200 pound irons.

"I know that she got the sauce (sauce), I know she saucy
And it's always wet, she never ever had to use lip gloss on it
She need me deeper than six, not a coffin
We're not making love, tryna get nasty." I switch the lyrics around to Rihanna – Sex With Me. Brannon laughs, walking in the gym. He just got done doing boxing training across the hall.

"Fuck yo old ass know about sex, and haven't been inside a cat in years." He states, walking over to the bench press. I laugh, lifting the weights.

"Nigga age ain't nothing but a number. I might be pushing 60 but this body pushing at least 25. Ask my options, they know what I'm working with." I chuckle.

"50 lifts each." June instructs. I nod, counting my reps mentally.

"Options?" Brannon asks confused.

"Options meaning females young blood." June chuckles.

"Oh hoes! You got hoes?" B laughs. I shake my head no.

"My mama taught me to respect women B, I don't call a female out her name unless she disrespects me. Not hoes, bitches, side pieces or whatever else y'all kids say these days. I call them options." I explain. 

"So you looking for a Mrs. Dubois basically? Is that what you saying?" I laugh, switching over to the other arm. Sirod and I got a divorce. We settled it in court a couple weeks back. She said she didn't want a damn thing from me, which was fine. But if she thinking she's killing me to get it, she got another damn thing coming because my kids not gone let that happen and neither am I.

"Nah I'm not looking just yet. But I got the top three that could be wifey material. All of them came over last night as a welcome home gift. I had one on my shoulders eating her out like I haven't eaten a meal in days, and other two sucking me up." I shake my head in a daze just thinking about the events that occurred last night. Best welcome home ever.

"What the hell?! Why you ain't call a nigga! I could of took at least one of them off your hands. Sharing is caring." Brannon smacks his lip as June and I laugh.