The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(11)

“I got his number in my phone right now. Want me to call him?”

“No.” Nona glanced toward Alexus and Blake’s table, saw that Alexus’ view was obstructed by a phalanx of bodyguards, and then turned back to Blake with a more lascivious expression on her face. “What I want you to do is book me as the lead model in your next video.”

“That’s it?” Blake was having a hard time keeping his cool. It was not every day that his eyes were blessed with the sight of a woman as comely and thick as Nona.

“No, that’s not it,” Nona said, grabbing Blake’s iPhone from his waist. She typed in a number with a 313 area code, saved it under NM313, and returned the smartphone to the LV case. “I want you to talk to Kayslay about getting me on the cover of his magazine, talk Alexus into putting me on one of those Brick House shows, and mention my name in a song or two. I’ll handle the rest from there.”

Blake laughed. “Damn, you got a lot of demands to be somebody I just met,” he said.

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it. Whenever you feel the need to be compensated for your hard work, hit my number.”

“You’re gettin’ the wrong idea. I’m about to get married, li’l momma.”

“Why would you go and do something like that?” Nona shook her head. “You’re only nineteen, Bulletface. I’m twenty-six, and I’m not even ready to get married yet. You don’t see Soulja Boy getting married, do you? As a matter of fact, you can’t name one young rapper who’s married or engaged, can you?”

“Wiz just proposed to Amber, and I proposed to Alexus. So, yeah, I can name two,” Blake said, turning to shake up with Kenny-Lord.

“Well…I’d still appreciate the help.” Nona’s voice lost its note of confidence. “I’m just trying to get my name out there.”

Blake pulled two bundles of hundreds from the front pockets of his jeans and handed them to Nona. “That’s sixty racks. If you can’t get on with that, I don’t know what to tell you. I’ll call you in a few weeks to see how you’re doing.”

He watched her stuff the cash in her Gucci bag, knowing that if he did not delete her number out of his phone in a hurry, he would eventually end up in her bed. Nona was far too pretty, and her ass was way too fat.

“Thank you so much, Bulletface.” Nona gave him a quick hug. “Sixty thousand dollars—I’ve never had this much money.”

“It’s nothin’, li’l momma. Just make sure you use it wisely. Let me holla at my nigga for a minute.”

Blake and Kenny—and about fifty other men—ogled Nona’s huge ghetto-booty as she sauntered off toward the bar to join her fellow models, all of whom at one time or another had graced the pages of DJ Kayslay’s Straight Stuntin’ Magazine.

“Fam, that’s a baaaaad bitch,” Kenny mused. He was dark-brown like Blake, with muscular arms and bushy eyebrows. His outfit consisted of loose fitting Pelle Pelle jeans, a matching black tee shirt, and Louis Vuitton sneakers, belt, and hat. His wrist and neck glistened with white diamonds and platinum. “I would’ve gave her a hundred racks, on the fin!” he said.

“She is bad.” Blake turned to Kenny. “You see me knock that nigga Duke out? Bitch-ass nigga put his hands on Mercedes. I tried to break his muhf*ckin’ jaw.”

“Fuck that clown. I really came out here to talk to you about them bricks of soft. We need two hundred more—”

Kenny was interrupted by Alexus as she rudely bumped past him and halted before Blake, hands resting on the hips of her mini dress. She spoke sharply. “Okay, you’ve taken pictures with just about everyone, and they’ve played your album five times already. I’m ready to leave.”

“What’s up, sis?” Kenny said, grinning.

“Hey, Kenny,” Alexus replied bitterly.

Blake chuckled, turning to shake up with Kenny again. “I’ll be at you as soon as I get back from New York tomorrow, bruh.”

He returned to his table to grab the duffle; then he, Alexus, and her security team left out the back door. He joined her in the Phantom limousine.

“I’m really not in as much of a hurry as I made it seem.” Alexus took off the white fur coat, picked up her iPad, and tapped into Twitter. “I just have something important to discuss with you, and you know I don’t trust speaking in too many places.”

“What is it?” Blake asked, trying vehemently to divorce the memory of Nona Malden from his brain.

“My Aunt Jenny’s been released from federal prison. She’s being questioned by Pakistani officials right now, but she’ll be set free sometime within the next twenty-four hours. Papi’s calling a family meeting on his yacht in Mazatlán.”

“So you gotta fly to Mexico?”

“No, I’m gonna Skype from the computer in our bedroom. But the rest of my paternal family—Uncle Flako, his kids, and Aunt Jenny’s son—will be there on the yacht.”

The revelation of Jennifer Costilla’s release shocked Blake. He thought back to when she had emptied a submachine gun into Alexus’ Bentley on Interstate 94 and, in the process, murdered several innocent bystanders. Shortly thereafter, she had bombed Alexus’ mother’s house. Then, after federal agents had raided Jenny’s ranch-style home in Brownsville, Texas, and found over a thousand kilos of cocaine and heroin, she fled the country and joined forces with her old friend Bin Laden in Abbottabad, Pakistan, which resulted in a hijacked Boeing jet being purposely crashed into Alexus’ beach house in Miami. Jenny had been captured inside Osama’s compound during the Navy SEAL Team Six raid on May 1, 2011, and Blake had assumed that she would be given a life sentence, if not the death penalty.