Daddy Lessons (Nicki Minaj x Beyoncé)

Chapter 9

Barbados, 2008, Robyn's POV

There was never a debate as to what my future career would be when it came to my parents. I was always supposed to take over my father's drug business when I turned twenty five, and as that day came closer and closer, it became more apparent as to what I wanted and didn't want to do with my life. But, though I had accepted the inevitability, I didn't have to like it. In fact, every night I would sneak out of my father's mansion to go cause trouble however I deemed fit.

I was never caught, surprisingly enough, but I came close a few times. I had adopted an entirely new persona; Rihanna, not Robyn Fenty. I answered to both names, which I suppose was my undoing. Police came by my father's house to investigate a link of crimes that they traced back to someone named 'Rihanna'. Though my father bribed them off, he was not happy with me. Drug smuggling was apparently scandal enough, but to commit crimes blatantly in the streets was not something he approved of.

He locked me up, basically, but I didn't blame him. How could I? Everything just seemed to fit perfectly into place, and who was I to judge what his decisions were- especially when they made so much sense? I still hated it. I spent my days wandering around the house or lounging by the pool, but I wasn't allowed off the grounds. But, what I hadn't expected was for one of my friends' ex boyfriends to break onto the property when I was night swimming (clothed, mind you, at least in a swimsuit). He'd pulled me out, talked to me and over several weeks earned my trust.

It was such a foolish thing to do, when I think about it, because who would trust a stranger that you met when they broke into your house? 

But, he'd managed to get me out and that was only because he'd promised we could run away to America. Money was tight for him, so it would be awhile before we could go. I never came back home until it had been at least a week or two. 

"We aren't getting out of here any time soon, babe," he'd said.

"I have an idea," I'd announced, "why don't I just go back home and get some of my father's money? He has more than enough to get us to anywhere we want and for a house- and he might not even notice it's gone!"

He'd chuckled, smiled, and nodded. "That sounds like a good plan. I'll come with you, just in case," he said.

We went that night, going in the way he had the first night. Once we were inside, we split up so he could keep watch while I went to go get the money. I heard the alarm go off when I had gone up the stairs, but I didn't understand as to why until we met up back at the car. 

"What the hell was that about?!" I'd snapped, tossing the bag of money in the back.

"I don't know, maybe you tripped something."

"No, I sure as hell didn't. Maybe someone else was trying to steal from my parents tonight."

"That's probably more likely." 

And I believed him, like any obedient girlfriend would. It was when we got back home that he'd looked over the money and had a strange order for me; to take off my clothes and sit next to it. I did, at the time thinking that we'd be doing something fun but that never happened. He took out the camera, and I tried to cover myself as best I could as he started speaking. 

"What're you-"

"Shut up!" he'd yelled, smacking me across the face. He'd spoken into the camera, talking about ransom and a job that he'd talk to my father about in person. When he'd set the camera down, I thought it was off, but I later found out it was still rolling the feed as he went to make love to me. I didn't understand at the time, but he left me alone and took the camera with him once he'd shut the door. 

The next morning, I'd found clothes and put them on even if they were a little small, but I was greeted by him and my father, who'd embraced me. Lucky enough for me, he thought I'd been kidnapped and not run away. I was given strict instructions as to what to do- smuggle drugs into New York City and get them to the dealer. My father wasn't allowed to come, but my...I don't even know what to call him, would be coming with me. 

My father agreed, but he left me with specific instructions: to get off the plane and instead of meeting him, run and hide. He'd get dealers to come find me once I told him where I was, and I could get enough money to go wherever I wanted, as long as I promised to never come back home to Barbados. I agreed, and he gave me a new phone to hide instead of the one that we were both sure he'd tapped. 

He'd left on the plane before me, and my father left me at the airport with a hug and a kiss goodbye, wishing me for the best of luck in the new life I'd be leading. 

I followed his instructions exactly, setting up shop at a hotel in Brooklyn, where I'd made enough money to fly to LA and hide for good before he could find me again. It was a year later when Sasha had found me and took me under her wing, bringing me back to The House. I gave her the money I had left as a trust fund, and since then (and once I'd told her my story, similar to the one I've just recounted, but I've still left out the gory details) she's trusted me.