ANYTHING BUT AVERAGE — Darren “STRO” Stroman [Summer Writings]
A/N: I said I was gonna do it so I’m doing it. Late to the show but not late to Courtney A. Kemp 😆. Anyway this is just me testing the waters since I can’t find the fics (minus one) and I took a much needed break from writing but I’m back—I think.
WARNINGS: Stro’s not married in this, language, OC-ish since reader has a name & some character background but not physically described besides a FRO, tension between the two & established past—they’re exes.
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.
Lavinia Vaughn feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
No Ne-Yo.
Way before she hears the bark escape from her loveable little shit Yorkie, Bronx, and way before she hears security screeching through her earpiece too late.
“What’s up, boss lady?”
Lavinia sighs while standing in front of the propped up barrels, taking her time as she breaks her deep concentration from her tablet, once going over tonight’s major event to settle her brown hues on the three men behind her.
Her nostrils flare when she catches him holding onto Bronx, who’s licking at his ink covered hand.
Like they’re suddenly buddies.
Traitor ass dog.
Stro flicks his gaze up to hers in that moment.
She’s long traded red bottoms for leather boots but that shift still felt effortless.
He then spots the chunky gold ring on her thumb. Stro’s familar with it. It’s her father’s. Stro often found himself studying the vintage piece between his fingers, every time she ventured off to the bathroom after she gained some energy to climb off him from his bed.
She always said she was just “borrowing,” it but now Stro figured it was her’s. Given to her.
Lavinia quickly moves her glance to Coltrane, which is the main one sparking up this conversation.
He’s got that charming smile on his face but she’s not vibing with it.
She’s already aware he’s about to be on some bullshit, just like the other two next to him.
A absentminded space in between Stro and Choi still feels empty, quieter.
They wouldn’t just show up here for fun—well actually they would to get underneath Lavinia’s skin but since she long stepped out of the game, the men learned to respect her decision.
They were all once family.
Lavinia still considered Ebony as such, (deep down these men too but her annoyance mattered more right now) even if she got out of California as soon as she could.
The woman countlessly told Lavinia to come see her and the baby—her god baby—out in Seychelles but there was always too much work to be done on this side of the world.
Not enough to stop Lavinia from venturing off to a private island with a certain contender back in the spring (which Ebony brought up to prove her argument that Lavinia needed to fly out to where she was at) but—that was old news.
Long forgotten.
However Lavinia promised she would be on a flight to Seychelles by December.
Now she was suddenly wishing she went earlier.
She questions the man, “What do you want?”
“Damn.” Choi scoffs, making Lavinia sharply shoot him a flat look.
Coltrane raises a brow, “Oh c’mon sis, it’s like that?”
“Yup,” she nods her head, the springy ends from her moisturized Afro bouncing with the movement, then Lavinia tucks the tablet underneath her arm as she strolls over to Coltrane but makes sure to keep enough distance, “You’re at my place of business unannounced.”
“We gotta make appointments now?” Coltrane teases, “Wouldn’t do you like that at Wilder Holdings.”
Lavinia fires back, “Well this ain’t real estate, boo.”
Choi instigates, letting out a, “ooo,” while knocking his knuckles against Stro’s arm who can’t help but to smirk or take his eyes off her.
She keeps her posture intact despite the six-foot-three man quietly drinking her in.
“Things don’t have to be so hostile,” Coltrane explains as he slowly begins to walk around the brewery, taking in a big inhale of the fermenting grapes, adding, “I just felt that it was common courtesy to stop on by and let you know what’s going down tonight.”
Lavinia blinks, “Excuse me? You better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”
“Oh he is baby girl.” Choi tosses in, making Lavinia sigh with a nasty side-eye in his direction.
He raises his hands in surrender but that doesn’t stop the taunting smile on his face.
Stro sends an elbow into Choi’s side—hard—at the pet name thrown her way, easily making the veteran wince, gripping his own side now.
Coltrane tells, “It’s gonna be easy really. A in and out type of situation so we won’t be much of a disturbance to you. We’re going after the uh—Carrington-Bass family tonight. I know, I know what you’re thinking. That’s your main guest of honor but it has to be done. It’s an unbeatable price.”
Lavinia huffs at the name drop.
The Carrington-Bass family are artists with a historical lineage that could be traced back to the early 1800’s. Came from wealth. They were frequent clients but tonight they had a huge art collection that they wanted to debut here at: VVW — Vaughn Vignon Winery.
“Yeah, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
“No, I actually haven’t.” Coltrane argues, “Nobody walks away from this empty handed. You’ll be taken care of too of course—for the inconvenience.”
“Get the entire fuck outta here with that Coltrane.” Lavinia fans her hand at him in disbelief but barely raises her voice, “Don’t stand here in my face and act like you’re doing me any favors when you’re actually being mad disrespectful. Showing up here six hours before the event, dropping this on me is what you call a courtesy? You know better than that.”
Coltrane lifts his shoulders, “…time got the best of me today. My fault.” He hand goes up to his chest, with a faux apologetic gesture, “We’ll make it up to you.”
“No.” Lavinia states.
Coltrane repeats, “No?”
“You heard what I said, James St. Patrick.” Lavinia snaps, “I’m not allowing you to come up in here to fuck up my night.”
Coltrane exhales, “You don’t really have a choice.”
Lavinia laughs.
It’s the type of laugh that’s sweet enough to fool a stranger.
These three men were anything but.
Stro anticipates the explosion, his eyes silently flicking over to Coltrane, wondering if he really wanted to go through with this.
As if he hasn’t asked him that multiple times before they pulled up here.
Stro knows this laugh better than anybody.
“Negro, you must have forgotten who i am.” Lavinia’s voice drops a whole octave, heavy, threatening, “Don’t make me go back to my old ways when I’ve been solid for years. Stay off my property or make me a problem.”
Coltrane pretends to think about it, peering up at the ceiling before letting a grin fall onto his lips.
He makes sure to keep a bigger distance, since he can already picture Lavinia doing some damage with that tablet she’s got a tight grip on right now.
“You were never that, sis.” Coltrane winks, turning to face Stro and Choi, he nudges his head, a signal to make their exit.
Choi attempts to send Lavinia a two finger wave but she lets one of her own stand, which he can only grin at, before he follows Coltrane out.
Lavinia pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, lightly biting as she clenches her eyes closed, mentally trying to calm herself down.
“Hey now,” Stro finally speaks, “We’d never do anything to jeopardize your place of business. You gotta trust that.”
Her eyes peel open, before burning into him, it’s been a minute but he still looks like what she’s known him to be.
Loyal.
Sincere.
About his shit.
Highly frustrating.
A true grudge holder.
“Give me my dog, Darren.” Is all she says, one arm out for Bronx who’s wiggling his nose in her direction.
Darren starts to bounce the brown and black dog underneath his arm, lightly scratching underneath his chin, “Nah. Not until you fix that attitude first.”
Her eyes go wide, “Are yall concussed or something? Did you think I’d be all, ‘oh golly gee! I’m so glad you guys decided to target my place of business and this particular night to fuck it up as the best option! I look forward to being involved in your schemes, come on down!’ Be so forreal.”
Stro snorts, “It ain’t no thing. Like Coltrane said, it won’t take us long.”
“You can have all the blueprints in the world for heists but not everything always stays on Plan-A and you know that.” Lavinia spits out, brushing a fallen curl from her eyelash.
Darren nods, knowing that to be true, “Well…if it makes you feel any better…we’ll be extra careful cause it’s you. Your establishment. What you built up.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Oh. So my words don’t mean shit?”
There goes that frown on his face.
Lavinia hisses, “I mean…you went on and had two kids so…”
Darren shakes his head at the woman, “Don’t do that. You left my ass time and time again, not the other way around.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Then you don’t get to be pissed about how I lived mine after you walked outta it.”
The silence doesn’t hold long.
Not with a woman like Lavinia Vaughn.
Lavinia scoffs, “This has nothing to do with what we both got going on! We’re both free to do whatever we want, the problem is I stepped away from that life and now y’all are trying to put me right back in it. This was probably your idea anyway.”
Darren laughs, “Same ol’ La, so full of your damn self.”
“And same ol’ bald headed ass Stro, just saying shit to see where it lands.”
Darren stares hard at Lavinia and of course she doesn’t fold. He slightly bends, still holding her eye contact to let Bronx down on the floor. The dog sits at his feet, staring up at him then over at Lavinia and back again. He doesn’t have to command the Yorkie to move, Bronx gallops back over to his mother who picks him up with her free hand.
“Well La…if this is how it’s gonna be—
“It is what it is.”
Darren grunts, pressing his tongue against his bottom lip as he breaks the stare, folding his tatted hands over the other in thought.
“Aight then.”
He steps over to her until he towers.
She doesn’t recoil or show an ounce of fear in her, cause she knows neither of them would willingly harm one another—not when their lore ran deep.
When he leans forward, she gets a whiff of his signature scent but he doesn’t hold her in place.
Just smacks a kiss to the side of her cheek, “Always good to see you,” he says lowly, pulling back so his dark hues can meet hers, “I’ll be the one in blue tonight.”
He pinched at her chin—which she knows is a jab since she always praised him in blues and gray’s.
She was already dressed in ice blue.
Flowy Silk.
She’d planned on wearing blue again tonight, too.
And she still would, not for Darren who was slowly walking backwards, biting down on his bottom lip as if he just won his way back in, nose ring glinting in the dim lighting of the earthy aroma filled facility…
For herself she would keep her sanity.
She had six hours.
Lavinia waited, ears picking up on the sound of tires fleeing over rock paths in the distance.
She was once part of the game.
Doesn’t mean she forgot how to play it.
Placing Bronx back onto the ground, she walks through the brewery towards the back, Bronx’s paws trotting after her as she makes her way over to the large wooden table by another set of ajar doors.
Lavinia takes a seat, finding her phone, she waits until the other line picks up.
“Hi, Lavinia Vaughn. There’s been a change in plans…we need to relocate, get set up, and send out details ASAP. Only send out the first official update via tech, the final notification will be in a alternative way. You know the one. Let’s keep each other up to date. Thanks.”
She hangs up just as Bronx hops up into her lap, one hand rubs at his back, the other rests against her cheek as she peers out into the view of the vineyard that was handed down to her by her ill father.
Lavinia knows he’ll love to hear how she pulls this off.
Coltrane, Choi, and definitely not Stro could throw her off her game.
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