The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(46)

“We should wear pants today,” Mercedes suggested as she roved her eyes over her sister’s extensive shoe collection

They were moving around inside Alexus’ walk-in closet, which was essentially a high-fashion clothing store. Lining the walls were hundreds of pairs of designer shoes; furs, dresses and other clothes; as well as, purses, sunglasses, watches, bracelets, necklaces, rings, and earrings. Altogether, it was a seventy-million-dollar collection, Alexus’ second-most expensive wardrobe next to the one she had at her mega-mansion in Matamoros, Mexico.

“I’m not wearing pants,” Alexus said, putting on a pair of Louis Vuitton shades. “I’m not even wearing panties. All I want to do today is watch Blake perform and give him all the * he can handle, because I know that if I leave him alone for one minute, he’ll send a team of killers at my best executive producer.”

“So what? T-Walk shouldn’t have been talkin’ shit. I think the nigga’s just jealous ‘cause he ain’t as rich as Blake.”

“That’s not it.” Alexus put on a white diamond-encrusted Le Vian tennis bracelet ($125,000), a matching necklace ($410,000), a platinum Rolex watch with a hundred carats of white diamonds embedded throughout its frame ($190,000), and a pair of tear-shaped ten-carat white diamond earrings ($350,000).

“Well, what is it, then?” Mercedes asked.

“T-Walk wants me back,” Alexus said “and to be honest, I kind of want him back, too. He’s the type of gentleman my mom would love to see me marry. He’s handsome, business-minded, loving—everything about him is just so perfect. When I was with him, he wanted me and only me. Blake wants to f*ck every bad bitch he lays his eyes on.”

“You let Blake f*ck Tee-Tee and that other girl last night, and he probably did it again this morning. That’s your fault.”

Alexus sighed. “I was testing him,” she somberly admitted. “I half expected him to say something like, ‘Baby, I don’t want anybody but you.’ I didn’t think he would actually f*ck Tee-Tee. The only reason I went along with it was because I had just popped those X pills and I was feeling all horny.”

“It’s still your fault,” Mercedes said with a shrug.

They stepped out of the closet and left the bedroom. As they were passing the hallway safe, Alexus pointed at it and said, “Do you know I put five hundred and sixty million dollars in brand-new hundred-dollar bills in there about two months ago, and Blake has already blown through over twenty million of it. He tossed over three million at that stripper last night.”

“Trina said she hasn’t seen anybody blow money the way Blake does since Big Meech left the streets” Mercedes turned to squint at Alexus. “How does Papi know who Big Meech is?”

“What?”

“When Blake got off the elevator, Papi said something about Blake’s jewelry. Then he said, ‘Who do you think you are, Big Meech?’ How does he know Big Meech?”

“I don’t know,” Alexus lied. “He probably saw the BMF episode on Gangland.”

She grabbed her smartphone from her white leather Louis Vuitton shoulder-bag and hopped on Twitter before Mercedes could question her any further.

Alexus’ twenty-eight million Twitter followers were already buzzing about the diss video. A lot of them wanted to know who King Neal’s father was. Some of her followers were taking sides, as if Blake and T-Walk were Edward and Jacob from the Twilight Saga. Shaking her head in disbelief, she decided against sending out a tweet and phoned her attorney instead.

“Why is it that every time I pick up my phone to call you, you call me?” Britney answered laughingly. “I hope you’re still dressed I’ve set up a meeting with Mr. Walkson to discuss that video he made about Blake. He’s waiting on us at Reesie’s gentleman’s club on Sixteenth and Trumbull, on the set of Down the Pole.”

A brief silence followed. Alexus put her thumbnail between her teeth, thinking “I guess we can do that. Blake and all his MBM artists are about to give away five thousand pairs of shoes in that same neighborhood, but they’ll be blocks away at that park on Albany Street.”

“I’m pulling in behind Kenny now. Get your butt out here.”

Alexus smiled as she returned the smartphone to her shoulder bag. She and Mercedes exited the east end of the mansion through large French doors that led them into the garage/basketball court.

There were fifteen cars and SUVs lined up across the garage’s polished hardwood floor. The five white-painted vehicles—a Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport convertible, a Mercedes Maybach 62 convertible, a Lamborghini Urus SUV, a Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead Coupe convertible, and the Rolls-Royce Phantom limousine—belonged to Alexus. Blake’s ten black-painted whips consisted of his three Bugattis, two Phantoms, a Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG coupe, a Ferrari 458 Italia, a Maybach 62 convertible, a Lamborghini Aventador, and a 1973 Chevy Caprice convertible on 24-karat gold-plated 28-inch DUB rims. All nine of the garage doors were open, and Mercedes’ snow-white Maybach 62 convertible was parked in the driveway between Cereniti’s Lamborghini and the security team’s eight Chevy Tahoes.

Blake was sitting on the trunk of the drop-top Bugatti with his shirt off, rolling a blunt of Kush and talking into his Bluetooth earpiece. The Trukfit tee shirt lay next to him beneath a Louis Vuitton bulletproof vest and a Ziploc bag containing about four ounces of Purple Kush. The Ak-47 was stretched across his lap.