I heard a loud, insistent knock from a distance. Soone was hamring on my door and wouldn’t give up. I stirred in my sleep.
"Go away," I mumbled, turning and burying my head in the pillow.
But the knocking wouldn’t stop. The person was persistent, clearly ignoring the ti of day.
I slowly got off the bed and went to the door, stark naked and furious. The knocking continued, rapid and demanding.
"I said I’m fucking coming!!!" I snapped, wrenching the door open.
I unlocked the door, and it flew open violently, hitting squarely on the forehead.
For a mont, stars swam in my vision, and I thought I was being raided or that Big Mom had sent an executioner after all. Then I heard his familiar, loud voice.
"Good morning, motherfucker!" Two-bit said, ignoring my pain completely. "Goddamn, you got a train cock."
I stumbled back, clutching my head. "That’s gay, bro, and fuck you!!"
"What you say ’fuck ’ for?" Two-bit said, stepping inside and taking in my state.
"You hit with a fucking door!" I yelled, trying to block my nudity with my hands.
"Co on, man, stop whining," he dismissed, waving his hand. "What are you doing still sleeping this ti of the day?" Two-bit said. "I have been waiting for you in the car for two hours straight. I thought sothing had happened to you, so I ca here to check on you."
He glanced around my room, then back at my physique. "Seriously though, Druski, you looking swole. Big Mom got you on the right diet."
"She almost got on a toe tag," I grumbled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. "What the hell are you doing here? Abigail said you had the day off."
"That was yesterday. You high or sothing?" Two-bit asked, looking genuinely confused.
"Why are you here?" I said, ignoring his question.
"Ti for work. I pick you up everyday, rember?" he said, his face hardening slightly.
"You must have not heard? Big Mom took all my capital. I got no money to pay my models." I said, dramatically retreating back into the sheets, pulling the covers over my head.
"Abigail told to co and pick you up and take you to the studio," Two-bit stated, pulling the covers off . "Whatever Big Mom did to you got nothing to do with , motherfucker. Now take a shower..."
"I don’t want to, there’s nothing left in this business. Your boss crushed my spirit," I whined, playing the victim.
"Well, she’s gonna crush your skull next if you don’t co with now," Two-bit said, his voice dropping into a serious, threatening register.
"Nuh," I scoffed, not believing he’d actually use violence.
Two minutes later, I was in the shower, the cold water hitting my face, nursing a sharp pain on my stomach from Two-bit’s surprisingly fast and focused fist. The guy could get violent if he wanted, and Big Mom had clearly given him authorization. My life was no longer my own.
Dressed and functional, I started to reach for the door, intending to move the fra I had used as a motivation piece. I stopped halfway. I went back to the small table beside my bed and picked up the sa picture fra I had picked when I had reincarnated: the old Druski and his ex-girlfriend, Chloe. The girl who had dumped him and blocked him, and who had now suddenly ssaged —my DMs.
Why now? What the fuck did she want?
She was a beautiful girl, with beautiful dark skin, curly hair, and piercing brown eyes.
I hadn’t replied to her, but sohow I felt that soon I would need to do so. She represented a loose end from Druski’s past, and a potential distraction—or a potential asset.
I placed the picture back on the table and went out. I couldn’t find Two-bit’s massive black Raptor truck.
A bright green Mustang GT, gleaming with aftermarket polish, honked aggressively at . Two-bit was behind the wheel.
"No fucking way. A big man in such a small car," I mocked, approaching the low-slung vehicle.
I got in on the passenger side, folding myself awkwardly into the seat.
"Beats how you fit inside," I said, a grin touching my lips despite the pain in my stomach.
He looked at with warning eyes, his expression daring .
"What? You gonna whine about body shaming?" I said, challenging him.
"I better drive otherwise there’s gonna be a homicide in my new car," Two-bit grinned back. But I could tell he was joking; the excitent of the new mission and the new ride had lifted his spirits.
When we got into the BangHouse, the temporary warehouse was unrecognizable. The parking lot was filled with different cars I had never seen before—vans plastered with corporate logos, luxury SUVs, and a couple of utility trucks. There were people everywhere: n and won running around, carrying equipnt, and talking into headsets.
"What the fuck’s going on here?" I said to Two-bit, stopping dead just inside the bay door. "Who are these people?"
"I don’t fucking know, man," Two-bit admitted, looking equally stunned. "This wasn’t on the schedule."
We cautiously walked into the building.
A girl in glasses and a crisp business suit imdiately greeted , cutting through the chaos with purpose.
"Mr. Druski, how are you?" she said, extending her hand with a professional smile. "I’m Jennifer Houston."
"Do we know each other?" I asked, shaking her hand automatically.
"I’m one of Monet’s lawyers," she said.
"Who the fuck’s Monet?" I asked, completely confused.
"Monet is Big Mom," Two-bit whispered urgently in my ear.
I could see cara crews running around setting up high-end digital caras, lights, and sound equipnt. There were other workers fixing up the place: professional staging furniture was being carried inside, and there was a graffiti artist painting a massive, highly stylized naked woman with pronounced curves and titties in the room that was supposed to be the eting room.
"So you are here to take over my business?" I asked, my voice rising.
Jennifer stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Actually, I understand that you are in a partnership with Monet? She’s not taking over your business, Mr. Hart. But she’s keeping up her end of the partnership by fully funding this whole operation now. She’s willing to provide whatever you need: money, shooting venues, girls... You na it. This is your ’Big Plan’ activation."
I looked around at the frantic activity: the lighting rigs being assembled, the sound technicians testing mics, the professional furniture moving in.
"All these people here, Mr. Hart," Jennifer said, catching my gaze. "They work for you now."
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