20. Derek’s Destiny

ARNOLD

Arnold Henry

The more time I spent around Johnathon, the more confused I got about how Destiny ended up with him after me. Made me understand why D-Truth ran his ass over with that damn car. I ain't never met a motherfucker so weak, so wrapped up in his own pathetic shadow. Breathing the same air as him made me regret ever letting his fake preacher daddy and him convince me to get involved with extorting Destiny. Because hell, with D-Truth in the picture, she was locked down tight—always up under him. And after that crash, she barely showed her face at her own office. Lucky for us, though, that Eden chick fell right into our laps. Perfect timing, too, 'cause she’s naive and scared as hell.

When she first stepped into my club, I barely gave a damn about that hundred grand. Nah, I just needed her to start working. She was too damn pretty, too innocent-looking—nothing like the hard-eyed broads I usually got working here. Eden was fresh meat, a goldmine. And if I could squeeze her for all she was worth under the guise of blackmailing Destiny, then so be it. Johnathon and his holier-than-thou daddy could kiss my ass. I was looking out for number one—me.

“You hear a word I just said?” Johnathon’s stupid ass asked me.

“Huh?” I muttered, not even pretending to care.

“One of D-Truth’s boys dragged Eden up outta here last night. I saw it with my own two eyes. You tried calling her?”

“She got work tonight. She’ll be here if she knows what’s good for her,” I said, brushing him off. “And what the hell were you so busy doing that you let somebody snatch my merchandise? Busy getting your dick sucked, like usual?”

“You think she’s gonna run back to Derek or Destiny?” Johnathon asked, voice shaky like he wasn’t sure what answer he wanted.

“Ain't that the whole damn point? You want your money, right?” I shot back.

“Ugh!” Johnathon groaned, throwing himself onto my office couch like a damn toddler throwing a tantrum. “He’s gonna fucking kill me.”

I scoffed, not even looking up as I kept my eyes on the books in front of me.

“You and Lyman came in here talking big shit, all bent on revenge after he tapped you, and your little smear campaign didn’t do jack. Y’all stay obsessed with that nigga. And Destiny—yeah, she had some good pussy, but damn, you didn’t even get a taste, and look how you acting.”

“Don’t say that!” Johnathon snapped, springing off the couch like he had some fire under him. Now he was leaning over my desk, slamming his hand down like that was supposed to mean something. “She’s special to me!”

“That why you been up in here for years getting your dick sucked whole time ya’ll was together, acting like you saving yourself for her?”

“I am saving myself. I’ve never... you know,” he stuttered, making this awkward gesture with his hands like I didn’t know what he was talking about. “That was supposed to be a special moment I saved for Destiny.”

“Well, look, if Truth’s people snatched Eden up outta here, there’s a damn good chance he knows what’s up. And either he gonna pay up, or he gonna kill you,” I said with a shrug, keeping it real.

“And what about you?” Johnathon shot back, panic edging his voice. “You’re in on this too. The pictures.”

“Man, fuck those pictures,” I scoffed. “I might leak ’em just for kicks, let the whole world see how I had D-Truth’s girl when he was out there playing her and stacking his bread. Man, she was all messed up back in college. Heartbroken as hell.”

“And her secret—you and I both know that’s worth more than a hundred grand,” he said, leaning in, trying to sound all serious like he was putting me onto some new shit. “That man’s almost a billionaire. I looked it up.”

I leaned back in my chair, eyes roaming the grimy walls of my office. Never in a million years did I think I’d end up running my uncle’s strip club when I was back at Westonberry State with Destiny, dreaming bigger. But here I was, knee-deep in the mess, scrambling for cash just to keep the lights on, no matter how much I tried to act like I had it all under control. As I flipped through the books, it was clear: splitting that hundred grand with Johnathon and his fake-ass preacher daddy wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what I needed. And Eden? She was good, but not miracle money good—not if I couldn’t get more people through the door. What I needed was some serious marketing dollars to keep this place alive.

Maybe it was time to get all the way in on this extortion plot, take the money, and disappear. Leave this club behind. Hell, maybe leave this whole damn city behind.

“Call Eden, find out if she told Derek anything,” Johnathon pushed, his voice shaky, nervous energy all over the place.

I rolled my eyes, but dialed Eden’s number anyway—straight to voicemail. That wasn’t like her. She’d never ignored my calls before. A girl like Eden was gullible, moldable—she did whatever I told her to. Always a little scared, always picking up when I called. But now? Silence.

“Let’s go, Johnathon,” I snapped, grabbing my keys off the desk, ready to see what was up.

“Where we going?” he asked, eyes wide like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Just bring your scary ass on!” I barked, already halfway out the door, not in the mood for his hesitation.

Twenty-five minutes later, we parked across the street from Destiny’s office. Her car wasn’t there, but I could see shadows moving inside. I dialed Eden’s number again. Still nothing

“This bitch,” I muttered, frustration bubbling up as I clenched the phone in my hand. My thumb hovered over the keys, and I fired off a quick, heated text.

ME: Answer your fucking phone or I’m coming inside your job.

I watched the screen, heartbeat ticking with every second. The typing bubbles appeared, but just as quickly as they came, they vanished, replaced by an incoming call. Eden’s name flashed across the screen, and I snatched it up, ready to let her have it. But before I could get a word out, a voice came through that sent a chill down my spine.

“I know this ain’t Arnold blowin’ up my girl’s phone,” a deep, gravelly voice growled, heavy with an accent that dripped with menace, like he wasn’t from around here.

I stiffened, my breath catching as I double-checked the screen to make sure I had dialed the right contact. My pulse quickened, but I forced my face into a calm mask as I hit the speaker button, needing Johnathon to hear this shit, too.

“The fuck is this?” I snarled, masking my unease with bravado.

“Don’t worry ’bout who I am,” he shot back, his voice slick and smooth, like a blade against silk. “Worry ’bout what I’m gon’ do to you for what you tryna do to Eden.”

“You ain’t gon’ do shit!” I barked, my voice cutting through the tension like glass, trying to hold my ground.

“Oh nah?”

Before I could spit another word, a sharp tap sounded against my window, the kind of tap that spoke louder than threats. I whipped my head around and there a man was—towering, inked-up, and dangerous. A big dude, muscles bulging under his jacket, face covered in tattoos that twisted and curled like a roadmap of violence. He was tapping on the glass with a gun, cold metal kissing the window.

“Holy shit!” Johnathon’s voice cracked, high-pitched and desperate, his body seizing up with fear. He fumbled with the door handle, fingers trembling like he was trying to solve a damn Rubik’s Cube. But panic had him locked up—he couldn’t even get the door open.

“Relax, bitch-ass nigga!” Another dude barked, stepping up on Johnathon’s side, gun aimed right at his head like he was lining up a shot at the range. The look in his eyes said he wouldn’t miss.

“Jesus!” Johnathon screamed, voice thin, almost childlike, sweat beading on his forehead as he stared down the barrel.

“Look, don’t worry,” the voice on the phone said, calm as a Sunday morning, like the guns pointed at us were just part of the scenery. “I’mma let y’all rock for now. But just know, I’m coming for you.”

“When?” I asked, keeping my tone even, fighting the fear clawing up my throat. My palms were slick with sweat, but I wasn’t about to let him hear it.

“Today… tomorrow… next year… I don’t know,” he said, so damn casual it made my skin itch. He hung up, leaving the threat hanging in the air, thick and heavy.

I glanced at the two men, their faces hard and unyielding, like stone gargoyles guarding a castle. Tattoos, accents, and eyes that looked like they’d seen and done it all—it was clear these weren’t just some goons off the street. They were predators, and we were caught in their sights.

“You D-Truth’s people?” I asked, trying to keep my voice strong, though my heartbeat was hammering in my ears like a war drum.

“Nah,” the voice said, cold and steady, like he had all the time in the world. “I’m Eden’s people.”

The two men outside my car, guns still leveled at us, flashed matching sinister grins, like wolves cornering their prey. My chest tightened, and I felt the prickling sweat of fear run down my spine. Johnathon was next to me, his face soaked with tears, hands clasped together as he blubbered through half-formed prayers. He was shaking so hard, you’d think he was freezing in the middle of June. The smell of piss in the air confirmed I wasn’t the only one losing my nerve.

“D-Truth can’t touch me,” I spat. “He’s too famous, too rich, too recognizable. He lays a hand on me, and I’ll sue his ass into the ground.” My words were tough, but my hands were shaking on the wheel.

The voice on the other end chuckled, low and dark, like he knew something I didn’t. “You don’t need to worry about how D handles his lightwork. Just know it gets handled. Always.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight and dry, the sound of it cutting through the thick, suffocating silence in the car. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, soaking into my shirt, sticking to my skin like fear itself. Every breath felt heavy, like I was pulling in smoke instead of air.

“Oh, and Eden?” the voice said, slow and deliberate, each word laced with a dark promise. “She ain’t coming to work today. Matter of fact, she ain’t coming back at all.”

“Eden—” I started, my voice catching, but he cut me off like a blade to the throat.

“Say her name again, and I’ll have my boys splatter your brains all over that front seat,” he snarled, voice low and deadly. It wasn’t just a threat—it was a guarantee, and the way he said it made my blood run cold.

Johnathon let out a terrified squeak, followed by the sour stench of a fear-fueled fart that filled the car, making my stomach churn. I shot him a disgusted glare, half-wishing the man outside his window would pull the trigger just to put us out of this misery—and put an end to that god-awful smell.

“If you even see her on the street, you better cross to the other side and keep your head down. You hear me?” the voice demanded, every word dripping with venom that coiled around my chest like a python.

“Jesus…Jesus…” Johnathon whispered, rocking back and forth, his eyes wide and vacant, like he was praying his way out of a nightmare that was all too real.

“You fucked with the wrong ones,” the voice continued, calm but seething, each word sharp and deliberate, like the click of a safety being switched off. “And I swear on everything—if I catch so much as a glimpse of Destiny’s eyeball on the internet from one of them Polaroids, it’s over for you. I’ll make sure of it. You won’t see it coming, but it’ll be swift and final. Bet on that. See you real soon, pussy.”

The line went dead, leaving a silence so thick it felt like it was choking the life out of the car. The men outside didn’t move, just stood there, guns in hand, eyes locked on us as if daring us to make a wrong move. My hands were slick, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. I could feel the heat of their stares, like the muzzle of a gun pressed to the back of my neck.

Johnathon’s sobs filled the car, each gasp and whimper slicing through the tense silence like a jagged knife. His shoulders shook as he clung to the dashboard, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the sweat that made his skin glisten under the streetlights. My grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white as I floored the gas, tires screeching against the asphalt as we peeled out of there.

Behind us, those lunatics stood bathed in the eerie red glow of the taillights, their guns still cocked and ready, faces twisted in wicked grins. Their laughter echoed off the empty street, a sick, taunting soundtrack that clung to the air like smoke. It was the kind of laugh that crawled under your skin, the kind that told you they’d savor every second of watching you squirm and bleed.

“Stop crying, you stupid-ass fuck!” I snapped, my patience snapping like a frayed wire. My hand flew out, and the slap landed on the back of Johnathon’s head with a loud, satisfying crack, cutting through his pathetic wails. He recoiled, clutching his head like I’d knocked the sense out of him—if he ever had any to begin with.

But then, the smell hit me again—hot, foul, and unmistakable. My nose wrinkled, and rage bubbled up, hot and acidic.

“Did you piss and shit in my car?” I roared, the disgust twisting my face. “You weak, nasty little shit! We’re heading straight to the car wash. I’m getting this car detailed, and you’re paying for it, you hear me?”

Johnathon was rocking back and forth in the seat, his face a mess of snot and tears, eyes wild like he’d just seen the devil himself.

“D-Truth is gonna kill us!” he screamed, his voice cracking, high-pitched and desperate, like a kid who lost his mama in the middle of a crowded store. His tears streaked down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat dripping off his brow, his whole body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

I glared at him, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He was falling apart, unraveling right before my eyes, and I was one step away from losing it myself. This wasn’t just fear—it was full-on panic, raw and unfiltered, the kind that seeps into your bones and wraps around your throat, squeezing until you can barely breathe. And as much as I wanted to blame him for all this, deep down, I knew we were in the same sinking boat, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do to plug the holes.

“You should’ve thought about that shit before you tried to blackmail his girl. And then you dragged this little bitch into it, too!” I snarled, disgust curling my lip as I eyed him. Johnathon was shaking, all nerves and no spine, and it made me sick.

“My dad said it was a good plan,” he whined, voice pitiful and grating, like nails on a chalkboard. Johnathon sniffled, wiping snot from his nose with his sleeve. “It was supposed to be easy, Arnold! My dad said it was foolproof! Destiny’s secret was our ticket out!”

“Your dad,” I mocked, throwing his voice back at him like it was a joke, “is about to get your ass run over again. And this time, D-Truth won’t be so damn nice about it.”

“Jesus, my Lord and Savior, please help!” Johnathon screamed, clutching the dashboard like it was a lifeline. His desperate prayers grated on my last nerve, and for a split second, I fantasized about throwing the door open and shoving his crying ass out onto the highway, leaving him to fend for himself while I hit the gas and never looked back.

I gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles turning white, my mind racing. This plan was unraveling faster than a cheap suit, coming apart at the seams before it could even stand on its own two feet. And now, with guns pointed at our backs and the walls closing in, I was trapped in a mess I couldn’t see a way out of.

What the hell was I gonna do now?

My mind raced, but one thought kept clawing its way to the surface, relentless and cold: we were in way too deep. This wasn’t just a beef we could squirm our way out of. Those men didn’t just play—they were the ones who made the rules, and when they were done, they didn’t leave loose ends.

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that made him flinch. “Ain’t nobody coming to save you. And what’s your daddy saying now? Sitting safe at home while we’re out here dodging bullets and psychos? This plan was never about you or me. It was about him getting his little revenge fantasy on D-Truth. And now look where we are!”

Johnathon’s eyes flicked to the window, his breath hitching again as if he expected those thugs to appear out of thin air. “Maybe we can fix this. Go to D-Truth, tell him—”

“Tell him what?” I cut him off, my voice rising. “Tell him we tried to play his girl, tried to extort him, and then ran like scared kids when it all went sideways? Ain’t no fixing this, Johnathon. Ain’t no going back.”

Johnathon’s shoulders slumped, defeat washing over him. “We got nothing left, man. I got nothing.”

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. We were caught in a game we were never equipped to play, and now it was checkmate. “We still got one move left,” I said quietly, almost to myself.

“What’s that?” Johnathon asked, his voice trembling with hope that he didn’t deserve.

“Survive.” I glanced at him, eyes hard as steel. “But that’s on you now. You’re gonna grow a pair or get buried, simple as that. Either help me get us out of this, or get the fuck out of my way.”

Johnathon nodded, but the fear was still there, simmering beneath the surface. I could see it in his eyes: he wasn’t ready for what came next. And truth be told, neither was I. But we didn’t have the luxury of fear anymore.

We were past that point. Now it was about who could keep their head above water the longest before the tide pulled them under.

Getting involved with Johnathon was the biggest mistake of my life, and that realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d let his soft-spoken schemes and desperate promises pull me into a world of shit I had no business in, and now it was too late to turn back. This was more than a screw-up—it was a death sentence waiting to be signed.