3
“I, uh–”
“Have Royce put you somewhere nice, somewhere private. A week.”
“Yes, sir.”
Her five-foot frame scurried, ready to suit every need I had. Even one to be alone. It didn’t matter. Jennie was here to serve and she took her role seriously.
Aaliyah. The name came to mind. Daughter of an associate. Procreating with her posed a conflict of interest. I quickly dismissed the idea.
Salem. Next on the list was a woman I’d encountered only twice, but had left a lasting impression on me.
The sound of her name rolling off my tongue made my dick harden, just as she had. Since I’d stuck my dick in a piece of pussy, I hadn’t doubled back. Hers, it made me reconsider.
Within a month, I was stroking her walls, again. Back for seconds. However, her lack of independence worried me. She wasn’t a thinker. She wasn’t a doer. She wasn’t a hustler. She was—nothing.
It was her beauty that stuck with me. It was her quiet that drew me to her. But, in reality, she wasn’t a person of interest.
By the time the second name vanished, so had my threads. I was down to a pair of trunks that were part of an extensive collection. Before another name could arise, my face was underneath the water and I was releasing everything that consumed me.
It hadn’t failed me. Ever.
Water.
It washed it all away. Helped me start anew. Embraced me in its cold, expansive arms.
Black Prada shades veiled my eyes. Paired with a fitted cap, my identity was easily and preferably concealed. My slacks and Ferragamo Oxfords in the shade Nero had been replaced with dark denim, classic Prada trainers, a black and gray letterman with hints of crimson red in patches on the right breast and back, a black hoodie, and a set of gold teeth with encrusted diamonds filling the canines.
Private entry was an option, but surveying those I’d be among quenched a thirst my proactive nature was often prone to. A step ahead was the only solution because if I wasn’t there it meant I was two steps behind. That was unacceptable.
Still bodies and lifeless eyes.
My vision had been altered.
Headshot. Cervical fracture. Chest. Face. Ear to ear. No.
I shook my head, dismissing the bloodbath I’d create, cutting from one ear to the other. Disturbing the fine threads on my body would piss me the fuck off.
Too messy.
The disorderly thoughts were in full effect. While they should’ve resulted in tightened pimple-covered skin, they made my heart pump louder and harder, and with vengeance would easily be served if necessary.
They made it clear that in the event, in an instant, I’d air the whole shit out with the extended clip on the Glock that made my pants sag slightly. The arsenal behind the bar and the one in the office I was headed to would put down anything it didn’t. The clean-up crew. Their purpose was clear when I installed them.
“Are you sur–”
“Goodbye, Aden.”
Questions. Fucking questions.
I climbed out of the backseat, daring my driver to reach for his door. The attention his presence would cause was attention I wasn’t beckoning for.
“I’ll be around back. Here when you need me!” he yelled over his shoulder before I slammed the door shut.
I strolled past the lengthy line, right up to the door. Groans and grumbles doubled as my presence was noted.
“Capacity my ass. This nigga just walked right up,” a tenor that reminded me of one of the men I shared blood with bellowed with enough emphasis to stop me in my tracks.
“Quiet, man,” Vic, one of the four bouncers, warned.
“Fuck you, dog. I thought you were at capacity. How this nigga get the green light?”
Too loud. Too entitled. Too broke. The loudest nigga wasn’t usually the poorest. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Financially. I turned to find a tacky, tasteless clubgoer with a studded shirt and pants to match. Too dirty.
“This nigga paying you or you sucking his dick?” Boldly, he questioned.
My legs jolted in motion, propelling me forward at an unfamiliar pace. When I began to regain awareness, my hands were around Dingy’s throat. His body rested against the pavement. Mine was only a few inches off.
The corners of my lips curved upward, toward my ears. A smile contradicted my actions, my thoughts, and the reason my tool was pressed against a stranger’s teeth as he spat unrecognizable pleas.
“Hm?” I listened closely.
Tears streaked his face.
“Say what, my nigga?”
Only he and I could hear what was being expressed. It was nobody else’s business. I pressed the gun deeper into his mouth, chipping his right tooth.
Shoot him.
Too many witnesses.
Lifeless eyes lulled me, but blood-stained skin shook me out of my trance.
“Next time anyone asks, tell them you’ve, in fact, met the devil and he doesn’t fuck around,” I whispered.
With the butt of my gun, I left a lasting impression right above his eye.
Something to remember me by, I reasoned as he yelped in agony.
“Send this man home, Vic, but only after he’s apologized.”
He’s not welcomed with that tired-ass shirt that’s lost its elasticity.
Aden’s eyes were the first set I found as I shoved my tool in the back of my pants. He was no longer behind the wheel of the truck. He was out, posted next to it, waiting to pull me from the ledge I loved living on. With a shake of the head, he rounded the vehicle as I turned and continued inside the club.
Now, back to the task ahead before I was very rudely interrupted and accused of getting my dick sucked. I scoffed, removing the sanitizer from my jacket pocket and squeezing a portion into my hand. The blackness that rolled off his neck confirmed what I’d already known.
Too dirty.
Naturally, girthy asses and titties that stared right at you and welcomed me inside Roulette. The bass of the speakers drummed against my skin. The very familiar smell of printed bills tickled my nostrils.
Darkness sheeted the entire building. Soft, deflecting lights passed through certain areas with the sole purpose of spotlighting the women who were here to entertain.
My attention never diverted as I strolled the entire first level, ending at the door that was shielded by two men covered in black.
As I stepped forward, announcing my presence with the timepiece on my arm that had diamonds dancing to the beat of the drums in the background and the glistening chain in the shape of an Erlenmeyer flask, guards were lowered. Bodies pushed in opposite directions, giving enough space for me to continue forward.
“Chemist.”
“Chemist.”
One after the other, they greeted me. A dipped chin and tilted head sufficed. I crossed the threshold where the sounds from the main floor were suppressed and light was plentiful. Red paint-coated walls that led to two doors. Only one would lead me to my destination.
“How hard is it to follow rules?”
Hello was far too formal for the middle child. Possibly for the oldest, too. I imagined it was the reason our bond was tighter than the ones between me and the others. Or, maybe it was a false accusation she used as leverage over the others. My presence, however, supported claims she and I were closer. The jury was still out on the verdict, in my opinion.
“There are no rules, Roulette.”
“According to you.”
“Who else matters?” I probed, taking a seat in the chair in front of her desk.
She was pecking away at the keys of her computer, never taking a second to address me with her eyes.
“You’re here. What’s bothering you?”
“You don’t have me figured out, baby.”
“No one does, but I’m as close as anyone. So, tell me or get the fuck out of my office, Chem.”
I got comfortable. Roulette was always in raw form. Aside from Rugger, and possibly Range, she was the rawest.
They’d adapted traits that suggested they were female replicas of my father. Improved versions of his one and only son.
Their only issues stemmed from circumstances beyond their control. Female organs, hormones, and hearts. Their downfalls in a business were built with men in mind.
It was a sexist, misogynistic, world we lived in. Our empire was more of the same. I didn’t agree. But, because I didn’t want them in the pits of hell with me, I stood by the commandments.
An heir.
That was why my contribution to the family was crucial. At no point in time was it permitted for there to only be a single living heir in an entity of The Triad of Ara. My father’s sperm was potent but it produced one girl after another.
His soldiers were marching, but seemingly to the wrong tune. If his life ended before a son of mine entered the world, balance would not be possible.
My silence was the bane of her existence. She’d give everything in her bank account to know what I was thinking most times. The window she wished my eyes were to my soul, she’d pay to have built.
“Chemistry.”
The halting of the keys led her eyes to mine. I massaged the hair that had begun to thicken on my face. Though I’d always kept it low and manicured, the length added definition to my face, framing it much better. I was fucking with it.
“Your father is dying.”
“He’s your father as well.”
Her shoulders hunched forward. Though she didn’t voice her insecurities and fears as they related to the topic of conversation, I sensed them. In her eyes, where I’d built the windows she dreamed of. And from her posture.
“How long, Chem?”
“A year at best.”
Softened eyes etched away at the cage around my heart. This wasn’t how or where I wanted to share this news, but I hardly had a choice. Roulette was the closest I had to a friend.
The others had proved to be enemies. And the one whose loyalty was not up for question was a member of a family in The Triad. Confiding in him was not an option.
“A year,” she repeated, falling apart inside while keeping a straight face as she stared back at me.
“You don’t have t–”
“Shut up.” She choked, twisting her chair until her pretty face was hidden and I could no longer see her broken heart through the bay window I sat at often.
But, I could still feel it. I, too, had one. And they were bleeding in harmony. Together. As a unit.
Sniffles of hers pushed a sigh from my lips. Baby was hurting. And unlike other times, I couldn’t stop her pain. Though I hadn’t expressed it, I shared the same pain. That hurt she felt, I felt that shit, too.
Two snaps of my fingers and her eyes were on me again. Dried, but coated with redness, they studied me.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t made good on my promise. I haven’t fallen through. And it’s fucking with me.”
“He wants you to give us a son.”
“Needs me to.”
“Chemistry, that’s asking a lot of you in such a short amount of time.”
“I wasted a lot more, baby.”
“I know, but damn. How are you feeling?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Her lack of response made my flesh crawl. The way she could pull things from me was impossible and made me uncomfortable. Simultaneously, it was comforting. Because, if no one else, I knew there was always Roulette.
I gambled my life every time I stepped into her office. Admittedly, I was addicted to the thrill. She preferred the challenge.
In so many ways, she was as twisted as our father, as twisted as her brother. It was no secret. Our siblings knew it. So did her mother.
“Cornered,” I released. “But it doesn’t fucking matter.”
“To me.” She huffed. “Who else matters?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Then why are you here? Time and time again.”
“I was just leaving.”
I stood. Immediately, she demanded I sit. Not with words, but with those penetrating eyes.
“You don’t run shit, Roulette. Get that through thick ass skull.”
Tiptoeing around her with words had never been necessary. She had tough skin, possibly tougher than all the others. But it was no match for Rugger. That motherfucker was in a league of her own.
“Can’t knock a girl for trying.”
Wordlessly, I strode, contrarily. As I moved closer to her door, eyes still trained on her, I waited for words I knew she was full of.
“Don’t come back if you’re just coming to start shit.”
“Never accuse a man of getting his dick sucked by another man and you won’t end up with a dental bill and bruised ego.”
“Oh, please, Chem.”
My shoulders lifted and fell almost immediately after.
“Why don’t you blow off some steam in one of the VIP rooms? I can get one of the girl–”
“Not interested, baby.”
“So serious. Loosen up. Tonight. Just once.”
“I have to produce a son in the next twelve months or jeopardize the integrity of our family. You think I give a fuck about letting loose anywhere but in a woman who can give me that?”
Pushing out a heap of air was her only response. I turned and twisted the knob on her door, sure she was behind me. Heels clacked against the floor as we trekked down the hallway. Music greeted us when we reached the large room designed for entertainment.
My peripheral scan detected a diamond in the muddy plain, halting my movement and making Roulette slam into my heels. The thought of her expensive foundation smearing against my letterman forced my eyes closed.
“Fuck!” she spat.
I have two more,I reminded myself. The compulsive nature of mine left me with hardly a choice. Buying in sets of threes was a habit I’d developed after ruining too many good pieces to keep count.
I separated my lids. My line of vision became increasingly clearer as I zeroed in on stage.
Climbing the stairs as the music selection changed was a frame dipped in chocolate. Long legs, which seemed never-ending, led me to a waistline that barely existed, a chiseled back, a slender neck, and a ponytail that hung past the ass wouldn’t allow me to ignore it if I tried.
Fucking flawless.
Black lace covered a bald pussy. The same sheer fabric covered dark nipples, but left little to the imagination. Her exposure angered me, drawing me closer to the ledge than I’d ever been. Without a second thought, I was prepared to jump and I didn’t give a fuck where I landed or who I landed on.
That’s her.
I recognized shit belonged to me without qualms. She was no different. From the top of her head to the bottom of the mile-high heels on her feet, she was mine. In this one and in the next lifetime.
Part of my personalia.
An unfamiliar yearning panged me. Though disgusted, I was receptive to the feeling.
My stomach flipped. My chest tightened. My blood boiled. My head spun. My temperature spiked. For the life of me, I couldn’t determine whether I was more intrigued or infuriated.
“Chem–” Roulette warned, pushing me forward.
She read me like a book, though it was rather complicated other times.
“Who is she?”
My spine stiffened, straightening, and I planted my feet on the tiled floor. I made it very clear I wasn’t moving, no matter how hard she pushed.
“She’s promising, Chem, and it is her first night. She’s going to bring us a good penny. They love her already. She aced the trial.”
“This… this is her last night, baby.”
I wished I was sorry, but I wasn’t. Not even a little.
“She’ll make me good money!” she reiterated.
“And me, pretty babies,” I reminded her of what was more important.
She said nothing more. Regardless of what she had, one foot was already in front of the other and my body was headed toward the stage.
“Is she clean?” I tossed over my shoulder.
With a nod, Roulette answered, “Royce checked.”
Royce always checked. Everyone was screened thoroughly. Anyone that we’d come into contact with regularly was vetted and approved after extensive digging. If Royce had given her the green light, then there was no reason I couldn’t.
Everything around me blurred, including the sounds of the loudspeakers. She was the only clear object in my tunneled vision. Muffled sounds played in the background. Fixtures moved about, all around me as I avoided the steps and hopped on stage.
Smoothly, free from anxious thoughts or movements, I approached the lengthy vixen who rolled her body to a beat I didn’t recognize. Not because I didn’t know the song but because I couldn’t hear that shit.
My presence alarmed her none. Seductively, she turned, placing her back against the pole as she waited for the inevitable. Waited for me to state my business or drop some bread.
No amount of money tossed in a night’s time would amount to what I had waiting for her if she followed instructions well, sucked good dick, and could spit out healthy babies.
“You’re obstructing everyone’s view. There are men willing to pay.”
“I’m willing to pay more.”
Her bottom lip disappeared in her mouth. I imagined my dick next. Flared nostrils revealed the anxiety I’d considered myself free of.
“Giselle,” she introduced herself using her stage name.
“Don’t insult me.”
“Eden.”
“Pack your shit and meet me out front.”
“I’m no damsel in distress.”
“Do I look like a motherfucking knight in shining armor?” I asked, already feeling as though I’d used too many words and felt too many things in the few seconds I’d been standing in front of her.
I’m a fucking monster.
“Better,” she challenged, making my dick press harder against my jeans.
“Don’t touch shit on the floor on your way out. It’s beneath you, now,” I demanded, referring to the money scattered on the stage.
“I didn’t get your name. My mother needs to know who to come looking for if anything happens to me.”
“I didn’t give one,” I replied, turning back toward her. “And if anything ever happens to you, I’ll find her before she finds me.”
“Yes, sir.”
If she was trying to get a rise out of me with her witty remarks, then she’d accomplished the mission she set out on.
“Five minutes.”
“Or what?”
I made the short journey to her, once more, unsure whether I wanted her to hear me over the music or if it was because I hated feeling so far away. The magnetic force quickly grew between us making my blood boil.
Through gritted teeth, I admonished, “You ask too many fucking questions.”
“They’re the epitome of informed decisions.”
“You don’t have a decision to make. I never said you had a choice.”
As she fixed her lips to speak, again, I used the steps to exit the stage. Through the crowd, I ambled until I reached the back of the establishment where I knew Aden would be waiting.
Five minutes or forever, I couldn’t decipher how long it had been before I witnessed a model-like physique dressed in black from head to toe, headed in my direction. The confidence she exuded was the sexiest of her attributes.
She reeked of excellence. A bitch, I was certain she was labeled in the world. A bad bitch, she was labeled in mine. My bitch, she had become in a matter of minutes. I just wondered if she had a clue.
Her new title wasn’t demeaning in any fashion. It was an honorable one. One would elevate her beyond heights she’d ever imagined. The club couldn’t take her places I had prepared for her. Or, give her things I had access to.
“Are you always this—pompous?” she asked, standing in front of me with folded arms and eyebrows that almost met each other right above her nose.
“Are you always this talkative?”
“I asked a question,” she pressed.
“That’s the problem, baby. You ask too many of them motherfuckers.”
I opened the back door, tilting my head toward the seat. She ignored my silent instructions, taking a second to take me all in.
From head to toe, she scanned me with eyes that were large but cut like slits. The structure of her face was unique, reminding me of a feline. High cheeks led to her ears and eyes with winged backs that raced for her hairline.
“Find whatever the fuck you’re looking for?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Get in.”
This time, she climbed inside without a rebuttal. I rounded the truck and slid into the seat beside her.
Already, I was sending a message to Abel, owner of Prime House, letting him know I was on my way and to keep the doors open after closing. Staff wouldn’t mind the extra hours for the increased pay.
It wasn’t until I shut the door did the fragrance of her skin registered with me. Riot. I remembered it vividly. Not because I wanted to, but because Rugger left me no choice.
It was the only fragrance she wore. I believed she was the only one keeping Huffington Fragrance House in business until now.
“Riot.” I cleared my throat. “Good choice.”
“Does your wife wear it, too?” Eden inquired, angling her body in my direction, waiting for me to fold.
Nodding, I latched on to the truth in her words.
“Figured,” she sniggered. “Married men are the most single men on the planet.”
With a shrug, I responded, “You’re a lot prettier when your mouth is closed.”
She found my observation humorous. My teeth ached from the grinding as her laughter reached parts of me reserved for a select few. Baffled, I chose silence. She was tearing down walls that were constructed for a fucking reason.
She barely had a right. Armed with a killer smile, fiery spirit, and a sharp tongue, she was rendering me defenseless even with my Glock off safety and the Tech under the seat.
“Does she know you’re en route to some destination with some woman who was preparing to slide down a pole minutes ago?”