Chapter 28
CASH “MONEY” BANKS
Tonight, I was getting my girl back and deading this shit with Marcus for good.
Showing up at the gala was reckless because he knew my face.
I didn’t give a fuck. Plus, the nigga wasn’t stupid about to start shit in a room full of politicians and power players.
It didn’t matter how many of them were in his pocket—he couldn’t touch me.
Seeing me would send him spiraling because he’d know something was up. It would eat at him all night, trying to figure out when I’d make my move. Tonight was ending with only one of us walking out alive, and it wasn’t going to be him.
I adjusted the tie of my black Armani suit in the mirror. For a last-minute buy with rushed alterations, the shit was fire. It was about to get messy tonight, but I was stepping out looking like a king.
Satisfied, I went out to the living room and found Jelani by the window with his phone pressed to his ear.
“I’m finna tear that puss—” He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw me. “Baby Doll, I’ma call you back,” he ended the call and tucked his phone away. His locs were pulled up in a neat bun, and he wore a suit identical to mine.
“You and Monica finally official?” I asked, cocking my head.
He looked down. “We working on it.”
“And that means?”
“That we working on it, nosy ass, nigga,” he laughed and brushed past me toward the door.
Manhattan was buzzing as we stepped out into the cool fall evening.
Nairobi leaned against the limo, looking like she’d rather be somewhere else.
Her bronze Grecian-style dress shimmered against her skin, the high slit showing off her long legs.
She looked like a siren with her hair slicked back, just waiting to lure a man to his death.
“Where’s your man?” Jelani teased, pulling her into a quick hug.
“See. You play too much, Jelani,” she said, smacking him upside the head.
He laughed, rubbing the spot. “That nigga almost burst a blood vessel yesterday.”
“He good?” I asked, holding the limo door open for her.
She rolled her eyes as she slid into the limo. “How about we focus on getting your girl back before y’all start interrogating me.”
Jelani and I climbed in after her. As soon as the door shut, the privacy divider went up.
Nairobi handed us our burners. “Jasmine’s phone is in my clutch.” She patted the sequined bag beside her. “I’m finna dip once we’re inside. Marcus might recognize me without the wigs.”
“When the Reapers pulling up?” I asked.
“Slim said 9:00 pm,” Jelani replied, sliding a clip into one of his guns.
“Good.” I ran through the plan for the hundredth time in my head. “Nai, once shit gets poppin’, grab Jas and get her to the safe house. I’ll handle Marcus myself—he’s not leaving out that bitch alive.”
The weight of what was about to happen finally hit me.
I’d done this shit before— takeovers, crushing rival crews—it’s how I took control in Atlanta.
But this was different. This wasn’t about money or territory—it was about her.
When I told Jas she was mine, I meant that shit.
Marcus had fucked around and was about to find out what happens when you touch what’s mine.
Nairobi stared out the window with an unreadable expression.
Jelani’s leg bounced as he distracted himself on his phone.
I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders, centering myself as the limo slowed, pulling up in front of Hudson Hall.
Spotlights danced across its steps, the building glowing under the evening sky.
Jelani buttoned his suit jacket, locking eyes with me. “Ready?”
Showtime.
* * *
I glanced at my watch—8:45 p.m. Fifteen minutes before we flipped this bitch on its head.
I wasn’t supposed to approach Marcus and Jasmine, but I couldn’t help myself.
Not like that nigga could do shit to me anyway.
The look on his face was priceless. And Jasmine.
.. Damn, my baby looked like a fucking star.
Until I saw that necklace. Marcus was trying to do everything he could to claim her, but she would never be his.
Jelani was in hustle mode, chopping it up with a couple of real estate investors at our table. We were here for one thing, but business was business, and from the easy smile on his face, my brother was in the zone.
“Nah, y’all gotta come check us in Atlanta. We’ve got a few commercial properties I think you’ll love,” he said to an older white man in a tailored gray suit.
I smirked to myself and took a sip of my Old Fashioned. This is what I needed to see. The business would be solid in Jelani’s hands. No matter what went down tonight, the future of the Banks Crew was secure.
Jelani took the man’s phone like they were old friends. “Here, take my number,” he said, and gestured toward me. “This is my older brother, Cash—our CEO,”
I gave the man a quick nod, lifting my glass. “Pleasure.”
The man was saying something about being impressed, but I was pulling out my phone to check my messages.
Nai: Jasmine has the burner.
Good. Everything was moving like it should.
“How’s everyone feeling tonight?” The MC said over the mic.
On stage now was a middle-aged Black man in a crisp black tuxedo, mic in hand. He flashed a polished politician’s smile as the room turned its attention to him.
“Hope y’all are enjoying yourselves so far,” he continued, his voice rising above the quiet clatter of silverware.
Slim’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “Ten minutes.”
I swirled the ice in my glass as I looked over at Jelani. He’d just wrapped up his conversation with the investor and gave me a sharp nod. He’d gotten the message, too.
The MC adjusted his tie. “Tonight, we’re honoring some of the best and brightest folks of our great borough. Before we begin, let’s give a big thanks to Councilman Dorsey’s office for hosting this annual event.” The room broke out into applause.
He smiled and waited for the applause to die down before he continued. “As many of you know, a portion of the proceeds from tonight’s ticket sales goes toward funding STEM and creative arts programs for public school students here in Queens. So, give it up for yourselves!”
A light round of applause rippled through the room.
“And we’re incredibly fortunate to have the beautiful 2022 Miss Manhattan, Hannah Brockman, here to present our first award.”
The spotlight shone on a blonde woman on stage in a navy blue evening gown. She definitely had the whole pageant queen thing down pat—a dazzling, megawatt smile with bleach white veneers that I was sure came straight from Türkiye. She air-kissed the MC and took the mic.
“Good evening, everyone,” she beamed. “It’s truly an honor to be here amongst such distinguished guests and to celebrate some remarkable individuals.”
I tuned her out, spotting Marcus’s and Jasmine’s table near the stage.
Marcus had his arm slung possessively over Jasmine’s chair, focused on his phone instead of the woman who was set to present him with his award.
Jasmine’s shoulders looked tense as she tried to keep herself from physically touching Marcus.
“…and it is my honor to present the Entrepreneur of the Year Award to Mr. Marcus Stokes,” Hannah announced.
“Three minutes,” Slim said as applause filled the room.
Marcus stood and straightened his suit jacket with a forced smile. He bent to kiss Jasmine, but she turned her head, subtly nudging him toward the stage. His face twisted for a split second, but he quickly recovered as he plastered on a fake-ass smile.
Hannah handed him the glass plaque, and they posed for a quick photo before he turned to the mic. You would’ve thought the nigga just won an Oscar the way he was cheesing.
“Thank you, thank you,” he started. “This award isn’t just for me— it’s for everyone who’s made mistakes and worked hard enough to find their redemption.”
The room quieted down. Everyone was ready to eat up his bullshit.
“My journey hasn’t been the easiest,” he went on.
“I come from a broken home, and like so many kids in my position, I found solace in the streets. I made a lot of mistakes—ones that could’ve cost me everything, including my life.
My incarceration was a wake-up call to do things differently, so when I was exonerated, that’s what I did.
I clawed my way out of a hopeless situation because I realized my past didn’t have to define my future.
And now I’m standing before you all not only as a self-made businessman, but as a testament that second chances are real. ”
“Man, shut the fuck up,” Jelani muttered under his breath.
I coughed to cover my laugh.
“There’s someone special I want to thank tonight,” Marcus continued, turning his gaze to Jasmine.
The spotlight followed and landed on her.
My hand gripped the edge of the table so hard that I felt the muscles in my forearm strain.
The sound of my glass hitting the table snapped me out of it—I’d slammed it down without realizing, earning me a few curious glances from nearby tables.
Marcus didn’t even notice—his ass was too busy soaking up this moment.
“Jasmine, my wife, my rock,” he said, pausing dramatically. “Baby, you’ve been the light for me when things were dark. This award is yours as much as it is mine.”
My chest tightened. Baby? His rock? My leg started bouncing under the table, two seconds away from seeing red. How was Jas his lifeline? Like he hadn’t just swooped in and taken her from a life she was building, we were building. There was no honor in controlling someone you claimed to love.
I was more than ready to put this nigga down.
Marcus stared at Jasmine. She made no move to acknowledge anything he said. She just sat there with her back straight, the silence stretching longer than it should.
He cleared his throat, trying to pick up where he left off, but I didn’t hear any of it.
The only thing that kept me from losing it completely was Jasmine knowing wasn’t with this shit at all.