AN: I think you've all waited long enough lol. I was glad to see how many people were interested in this story. I know the first chapter was a bit slow and confusing. But I promise, it does get a little better. I got at least four reviews that said "I'm intrigued", which I thought was so funny!
I made my way out of the truck and slowly walked the red carpet towards the front door. The agents that stood on the carpet paged the others inside to let them know of my arrival. Great, to think that I'd have the opportunity to slip away from these clowns for a night. I couldn't even go out to the club without having a detail watching me like a hawk - another thing that came with the territory.
But this wasn't your ordinary club. Cheeks was a lucrative strip club, simply the best in the area. Not only did they have the most attractive strippers, the grandest selection of alcohol and the tastiest meals that one could ever expect, it was also the club where most celebrities and your typical criminals frequented. It was also where I used to work before I was taken out of the clubs by a man with money...
...or so everyone thought.
The huge metal doors opened and a cloud of smoke immediately smacked me in the face. I looked to my right as I tried to fan away the death trap and found Pablo, the bouncer puffing away at a cigar like he was some some sort of pimp or something. I assume he noticed the stream of light from outside coming in from the door being opened because he looked in my direction, quickly outing his cigar and standing at attention.
"Evening Mrs. G, sorry about that. I was just catching a quick break..."
"Pablo, he pays you to bounce people out of the club, not to bounce smoke off the walls. Don't let it happen again!", he nodded and returned to stand at his post, his tattoos exposed as he crossed his huge arms across his chest.
The club was packed tonight - the music bumpin', the bottles poppin', ladies dancin' and fellas trying to mack. Hundreds and thousands of dollars flew up in the air as strippers slid down their poles. Thank goodness I never had to do that again.
I quickly tried to make my way through the crowd without being detected, but it was damn near impossible with six huge black guys hot on my tail, making sure that I arrived to my true destination safely and untouched. So of course, all eyes were on me, from the eager beaver ass men who sized me up in hopes of getting a chance to take me home, to the thirsty women sharing bottles who rolled their eyes and scoffed under their breaths with jealousy.
I'm not one to toot my own horn, but toot toot! I was what fashion magazines called "absolutely stunning" and drop dead gorgeous" and what your favorite rappers nowadays called a "bad bitch".
Did I try to be? No. Was it my fault that my mother's genes blessed me with knockout curves, high cheekbones, pouty lips and beautiful doe eyes? No. Did I accept my beauty for what it was and carried myself damn near flawless at all times. You damn right. However, I didn't have an ounce of vanity or conceitedness. There were far much more important things to worry about. And I had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.
If it ain't about the money
Ain't no use of you ringin' my line, stop wastin' my time
Everyone had a theme song and at the current moment, T.I.'s About The Money was mine. As much as I wanted to grab one of the shot glasses passing by on a silver platter and dance while singing along to one of my favorite songs at the moment, I had a long ass day and there was some business that still needed to get handled.
I stood to the side while one of the agents opened a door for me, two of them walking ahead of me, making sure the coast was clear, as the others trailed behind. Besides the sound of the bass thumping, the only sound to be heard through the hallway was my heels clacking on the concrete and the inhales and exhales the group of us took.
We boarded the elevator after a quick search and took it to the top floor of the building. There were five floors to be exact - the main level, where the club was held; a basement, which was below the club and was basically where the liquor, food supplies, cookware and other club items were stored; the floor above the club with rooms where guests could rent out if they were too drunk to drive - or if they didn't want their significant others to know about the one night stands they were planning for the night; the forth floor held the offices of the club employees - the on site event planners and the kitchen staff, as well as the dressing rooms and bathrooms for the dancers; and lastly, the fifth floor held the office of the owner, which exactly where I was heading.
Not everyone was allowed to go up to the fifth floor. To be honest, only a few people had the access to control the elevator up to the top floor and I was one of them. With an approved fingerprint scan, a visitor could send themselves up from inside the elevator, as well as paging the elevator to go back down.
We waited patiently as the elevator slowly ascended past each floor and I smiled as I heard one of the guys mumbling the lyrics to a Nicki Minaj song that was playing downstairs. I was grateful that the elevator finally dinged, signaling that we had made it to the top floor. The doors slid open, showcasing the owner's huge office, which was also his own apartment.
Did I mention that the owner was my boyfriend for the past year and a half?
...or so everyone thought.
"Well well well, look who's here! So nice of you to finally make it, C!"
I wanted to smack that smug little smile off of his face for making me come here this late at night.
"Fuck off Harrison, do you have my food?"
"That's no way to speak to your man baby, especially when you haven't seen him all day", he moved over to my direction, quickly wrapping his hands around my waist and nuzzling his face in my neck. "Food's in the kitchen", he whispered in my ear before lifting his face and waving off my security detail with a flash of his fingers. Once they finally headed back into the elevators and took it back downstairs, he let me go.
"You get better and better at this every day. I swear you have some incestual attraction to me...", I joked as I walked past him into the kitchen in search of whatever he ordered me to eat.
"Fuck you Liv!", he yelled out from where I presumed he was in the entertainment room area. The office/penthouse/whatever had its own living area that was closed off and featured a bedroom, full bathroom, kitchen and entertainment room. The other side actually did have Harrison's office, as well as a conference room used for meetings and a room that I liked to call "The Situation Room".
But to understand where the name came from, you'd have to get a better understanding of this whole operation.
See, Harrison and I aren't in relationship, never were and never will be. We're actually first cousins, related by our mothers who are twin sisters. Our "relationship" was just an act to keep ourselves, mostly me, well protected in this business. Our past isn't really important right now. Just know, we started from the bottom, now we here.
Harrison made Cheeks what it is today, from the construction and architectural design to the success it had gained in the past year and a half. He had really made a name for himself and I was really proud of him.
What do I have to do with Cheeks? Nothing really, besides the fact that I danced there from when the club opened, up until a few months ago and the fact that I get to come and go whenever I want and have unlimited access to the bar and kitchen. Oh yeah, and basically every dollar that circulates through here belongs to me. My operation was something much bigger than Cheeks.
"Now what was this problem we had to handle?", I asked carrying the plate of hot wings and celery sticks over to the white couch where he was sitting.
"You really think you're gonna eat those wings on my couch?", his attention averted from the show on television as he looked over at me in a face of disgust.
"Trust me, if we don't get this shit over with so I can go home, a buffalo wing sauce stain won't be the only one you'll have to worry about...", I answered as I gnawed my way through the deliciously fried and sauce covered piece of chicken.
"The vice principal had to step in for the principal today and a mini-lockdown ensued", he sighed. I immediately picked up on his reference using our shared code language.
"What?!", I was mid-bite when I immediately dropped the wing back on the the platter. "The whole school or just a class?"
"Just a class, but it also put a damper on the whole school", he said quietly, knowing I was bound to blow a fuse any moment now. "Someone broke into a classroom..."
"Harrison, what the fuck do you mean? I've been gone for a few hours and someone managed to get robbed?!"
"Ahem..", he cleared his throat, reminding me that I was speaking out of code. "It happened last night..."
"Last fucking night?!", I pushed the plate of chicken on the coffee table and jumped out of my seat. "And you waited until now, well over twenty four hours to tell me?!", fuck a fuse, I was a full blown fire.
"Liv, I know you had to take that flight today and I couldn't have you on a plane stressed out about what was going on here. I was looking out for you..."
He was right. I definitely would not have been able to handle that kind if information on the plane earlier and it was definitely a flight I could not afford to miss. I took a deep breath, allowing everything to sink in while I collected my thoughts and words.
"Did anyone get hurt? Did any teachers quit on me? Any kids get pulled from class?", I asked, continuing to speak in code term.
"No withdrawals, but a few crayons were broken. And someone found where you hid some of the new ones..."
"Jesus Christ!" I quickly apologized to the Lord for saying his name in vain. "I gotta get the fuck outta here", I made my way over to the intercom system, alerting my security that I was ready to go.
"Liv, what are you gonna do about this?"
"I can't do shit about it tonight. I'm exhausted and I need a shower...", the same time, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing the guards to me.
"What about your wings?!", he shouted to me as I stepped into the elevator.
"There's bigger shit to worry about than some damn wings!", I answered before the doors shut, ending our conversation.
After a thirty minute ride home and a nice, warm shower, I walked around my apartment in one on my favorite La Perla sets. I looked around my home that looked like no one even lived here majority of the time. I shook my head, thinking how funny it was that my place was filled with big screen televisions, amazing fish tanks, the finest furniture and the fanciest decor, but if still felt cold and empty.
Being on the 29th floor of my complex's building and having the corner condo gave me access to the most breathtaking views. I opened the sliding glass door and stepped out to the marble tiled balcony. My little Yorkie Poodle puppy named Marlo tried to follow me out there and I quickly scooped her up, as she was able to fit through the bars of the balcony railing and I was afraid that she was to fall to a sure death if she ever slipped through them.
I took a moment to myself to take in the view of the city below me as Marlo playfully gnawed on my fingers with her tiny teeth. I didn't care that I was outside on my balcony with the frigid ocean breeze flying past me or the fact that someone who was high up enough from one of the building across could see me standing in my barely-there lingerie set. It totally went out the window how exhausted I was a few hours ago while I stood there, thinking about the day's events. None of that seemed to matter at all right now.
All that mattered was I, Olivia Pope, known to the public as Candileria Giancarlo, was the unidentifiable owner of the world's biggest drug cartel and someone on my team not only had been robbed, but a loophole in the whole operation had now been exposed.
Someone had fucked with my men and my money, which means that they were now fucking with me.
If it ain't about the money,
You could miss me with it
AN: Now the cat's out of the bag! How many of you guessed right?
Reema: you were right on the money! I was kinda mad someone figured it out already lol
reneeharris49: I died at "Don't know too many men who would be happy with pineapple and yogurt as a snack." That made my day!
Cleo & Marie726: Olivia is the "Stallion". Stallions are male horses, but a stallion is also slang for a woman (with stallion-like" qualities. You'll see why I chose this later on in the story.
If you hadn't already guessed it, the title was influenced by T.I.'s About The Money, which I am not ashamed to say is definitely a guilty pleasure right now lol. If you've never heard it, you can listen, but it's not for sensitive ears and it is highly NSFW and I most definitely cleaned it up for this chapter. I will not be using many (if any) derogatory terms because I know it can make a lot of people feel uncomfortable. And if you have heard it, you can probably put two and two together.
And, to avoid further confusion, Olivia and Harrison speak in code terms often, as you can imagine. Their conversation about principals and schools was basically saying that Harrison "the assistant principal" had to step in for Olivia "the principal". You might be able to figure out the analogy using context clues.
Hope you all enjoyed! I'm working on Chapter 3 now (:
Also, I'm still deciding on if I want Fitz to be in this story (I mean, because why wouldn't i?", but I'm still trying to figure out how to bring him in.