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September 7 - September 8, 2024
“Good morning, Granny Jo,” I spoke. That was my mom’s mom.
“Well, Mr. Dymon, if that is the definition of an executive assistant, then that number on the offer sheet I signed yesterday needs to double, and I need a work phone too because I refuse to have you ordering me around on my personal phone. I will turn that phone off with the quickness, and you will instantly disappear. Poof.”
“Don’t you ever in your fucking life tell a nigga you sorry for turning him down. Do you understand me?”
“You out your fuckin’ mind,” he whispered.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Worth every penny, pretty mothafucka.”