The Trophy Wife Read Online Free PDF Page B

Heaven. “Yo, my man Hova in there?”
    â€œYeah, he owns this joint,” Peanut answered.
    It all began to make sense to Kalil. He frowned and looked at his cousin. He realized it wasn’t a coincidence that Quinn had suggested that particular club.
    Quinn wanted Kalil to get back in with Hova for his own personal reasons. He was trying to get back in the dope game, and Kalil’s connection with Hova was his key. He gave Kalil a cheesy grin and threw both of his hands up. “What?”
    â€œYou knew this was Hova’s club, nigga.”
    Quinn threw his arm around Kalil’s neck and guided him into the club. “Yo, cuz, let’s just have some fun.”
    Kalil was upset, but he wasn’t going to fuck up the night. “All right, fam, let’s have some fun.” He gave Quinn a forced grin.
    As soon as they entered the building, the luxurious club captivated them. It was simply immaculate. The floors were made of marble, and the whole club had a “heavenly” theme. Beautiful women dressed in seductive angel outfits danced in secluded cages that hung from the club’s ceiling. The walls were painted with clouds, and the place was lined with white couches. The club had three different floors, all playing different music. Kalil was definitely impressed.
    Kalil and Quinn walked through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea. Kalil definitely had a presence in the building. He must have slapped about fifty people’s hands. He grew uncomfortable because every time someone approached him they looked at his wardrobe in confusion. It was a known fact that Kalil used to shut the club down with the best jewels and latest fashions.
    He and Quinn found a booth in the back with a clear view of the dance floor. Kalil watched as the assorted ladies moved their bodies seductively to R. Kelly’s hit song. Four years of jail had him on an ass drought, so naturally he caught a wood. As they slid into the booth, Kalil asked, “Is it me, or is every chick in here a dime piece?”
    â€œThat’s that four years of jail talking. Anything probably looks good to you right now.” Quinn called over a waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne and continued to converse with his cousin.
    In the middle of their conversation, Peanut approached their table with a bottle of Dom in his hand. Kalil checked out his former worker and realized how much he had stepped his game up. The iced-out pinky ring and the Jesus piece on his necklace had to easily cost him around ten stacks.
    Kalil respected it and knew that he was only following in his footsteps. Kalil ran the streets before he got locked up. If he didn’t have anything else, he knew he had respect in the streets. He had put in too much work not to.
    Peanut sat the bottle on the table and leaned toward Kalil so he could hear him over the music. “Yo, Hova sent you this bottle. He heard you were down here and wants you to come up and holla at him.”
    Kalil really didn’t want to see Hova because he knew the conversation was going to lead to street business, something that Kalil wanted no part of. Every time he thought about entering the drug game and potentially leaving his daughter again, he turned cold toward the streets, but out of respect for Hova, he decided to talk to him.
    â€œNo doubt. Where he at?”
    Peanut looked at the upper level and pointed to the glass office overlooking the club. Kalil followed his finger and saw Hova overlooking the club with both of his hands behind his back. Kalil took a drink of the Dom and then leaned over to Quinn to tell him that he was about to have a word with Hova and would return shortly.
    Quinn nodded his head nonchalantly, but on the inside he was beaming. As Kalil got up and headed toward the wraparound stairs, Quinn began to rub his hands together, thinking about the money they were about to get. Kalil is a mu’fuckin’ hustler. He’s going to get back in