Cario “Crow” Domingo
Athick cloud of Cuban cigar smoke hung in the air as I kicked back in the VIP section of Ne’Cole Lounge, celebrating another profitable month at my custom motorcycle shop.
Business had always been good, but lately, it had been on a whole different level.
Bikes were rolling in faster than we could build them, and the waiting list kept getting longer by the week.
I wasn’t about to complain. A well-known content creator had brought his motorcycle to my shop for an engine build, and after posting the finished product online, demand damn near exploded.
Between that and a few other high-profile builds, the phone hadn’t stopped ringing.
We were so busy that appointments were booked weeks in advance, and people were driving in from other states just to put their bikes in my hands.
Hell, I had turned away more work this month than I’d accepted because there were only so many hours in a day a nigga could do.
My crew had been putting in overtime, and I made damn sure they got paid for every extra minute.
Loyalty meant something to me. If a man helped me build my dream, I was gonna make sure he never had to worry about whether there was food on his table.
It felt good to finally be respected for something I’d built instead of the reputation I’d earned running the streets.
I’d worked too damn hard to leave that life behind just for people to keep seeing me as the man I used to be.
These days, when folks heard the name Crow, I wanted them thinking about horsepower, custom builds, and unmatched craftsmanship, not the reckless young nigga who used to settle every problem with his fists.
I’d spent years building that old reputation, but I’d spent even longer burying it.
I took another slow draw from my cigar and watched the smoke disappear into the dim lights above me.
My pockets were straight, my business was booming, and my seven-year-old son, Sebastian, was healthy and happy.
Truth be told, I couldn’t have asked for much more.
Then my phone lit up with the fuckin’ drama.
Shameka: Nigga, you have time to go on dates, but you are too busy to come get your son. You ain’t shit.
Before I could even respond, another text popped up. Her oldest sister had decided to insert herself into my business too.
Latasha: You need to do better by my nephew. Sebastian deserves better than your tired ass.
Then another damn text rolled in. Apparently, her baby sister felt the need to jump in too.
Rita: That’s why I can’t stand your ass. You always got time for these hoes, but not your own son.
I stared at the screen for a long moment before shaking my head. Three against one, just like always.
If a stranger read those messages, they’d probably think I was some sorry-ass father who only showed up when it was convenient, but they would be dead wrong.
The truth was, I spent more time with Sebastian than Shameka did half the damn time.
While she was out chasing a good time, I was taking him to baseball practice, helping him sound out words while he read, buying him a new pair of Jordans because he’d outgrown his old ones, and sitting through two straight hours of cartoons I couldn’t stand just because he wanted his daddy beside him.
Hell, I damn near was raising my son as a single parent.
But the moment I wanted to hang out and enjoy a little time to myself, it became a problem.
Apparently, that was all it took for me to become the worst father in America.
A dry laugh escaped my lips as my thumb hovered over the group thread.
I was ready to remind every last one of them exactly who was there when Sebastian needed somebody.
But after a second, I locked my phone instead.
Arguing with them was like trying to convince a brick wall it was made of glass.
No matter what I said, I’d still end up being the villain in their story.
So, I placed my phone down, picked up my bourbon, and took a slow sip. The warm liquor burned its way down my throat as I leaned back in the booth. I’d gotten to Ne’Cole Lounge a little early. Tonight was supposed to be a double date with Rebel, Jenay, and her twin brother, James.
Jenay and James were twins we went to high school with before they moved to Atlanta after graduation.
They’d recently moved back to Magnolia, and after Jenay reached out wanting to catch up, she’d suggested the four of us get together.
Seemed harmless enough. James was a solid dude, and I figured he and Rebel might actually hit it off. At least, that was the idea.
I checked the time on my watch. Right on cue, Rebel walked through the front doors looking stylish as hell.
She had on a long olive-green trench coat over a matching hoodie, ripped, faded skinny jeans, and a fresh pair of wheat Timbs.
Her long, jet-black locs spilled down her back, with a few draped over one shoulder.
Just as she spotted me and started making her way over, some nigga stepped into her path and tried to shoot his shot. My jaw tightened before I could stop it. She wasn’t mine, so why the hell did I care who was trying to talk to her? Maybe this was a bad idea.
I took another sip of my bourbon and kept watching. I didn’t have anything to worry about. Rebel had been shutting niggas like him down since we were kids. Even so, something about seeing another man standing in her space rubbed me the wrong way.
Rebel didn’t give that nigga the time of day.
She walked right past him without breaking stride and headed straight for my table.
A grin spread across my face before I could stop it.
She slid into the chair across from me, set her drink on the table, and looked at me with that same smart-ass smile she’d been wearing since we were kids.
“You looked like you was about to come save me,” she said with a smirk.
I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I was just making sure you ain’t hurt that man’s feelings.”
“Please. He’ll survive.”
“I don’t know,” I said, taking another sip of my bourbon. “You walked past that nigga like he owed you money.”
“He should’ve minded his business.”
“He was just shooting his shot.”
“And he missed.”
I laughed. “Damn. You ain’t have to embarrass him like that.”
She leaned back in her chair. “I wasn’t interested.”
“For a second, I thought you was gonna at least let him buy you a drink.”
She looked at me like I’d completely lost my mind. “Why would I let another man buy me a drink when I came here to chill with my best friend?”
A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth before I could stop it. “Fair enough.”
“You sure that’s all that was?”
“What?”
“You over there watching me like security.”
I chuckled. “Old boy looked thirsty. I just wanted to make sure you was straight.”
“Now you know I can handle myself.”
“I know.” I raised my glass. “I’m just glad he knew when to keep it moving.”
She clinked her glass against mine.
“Now that... I’ll give you.”
Rebel laughed into her drink, and the two of us burst out laughing all over again. We sat there talking for a while, slipping right back into the same easy rhythm we’d always had. No matter how much time passed, nothing ever changed between us. After a few minutes, I glanced down at my watch.
“They should be here any minute.”
Rebel nodded. “Jenay and James?”
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t seen them since they moved back to Magnolia.”
“Me neither.”
Ten minutes later, they arrived for the date. Jenay walked in first through the door.
Time had been good to her. She was dressed in a fitted cream jumpsuit that hugged every curve without trying too hard.
Gold hoop earrings framed her face, matching the layered necklaces resting against her chest. Her caramel skin practically glowed beneath the soft lights of the lounge, and her shoulder-length curls bounced with every confident step she took.
Walking beside her was James. That nigga looked like he’d spent the last few years living in the gym.
He stood about six-three with broad shoulders that stretched the sleeves of his black bomber jacket.
A fitted white T-shirt, dark jeans, and fresh white sneakers completed the look.
His beard was neatly trimmed, and his low fade was sharp enough to make a barber proud.
As soon as Rebel spotted them, a genuine smile spread across her face. We were all cool back in high school, so I knew she wouldn’t have a problem doing me a solid and hanging out.
“There they go.”
James smiled just as wide when he saw her. “Damn, Rebel.”
She stood up, and the two of them hugged like old friends.
“It’s been forever,” Rebel said.
“It has,” James replied. “You look good.”
“So do you.”
For some reason, that exchange irritated the hell out of me. I couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t like the nigga had said anything out of line. Hell, I’d invited him. This whole thing had been my idea.
So why was he looking at her like that?
And why the hell was she smiling so damn hard?
I was the dumbass who’d set this whole thing up.
I wanted Rebel to meet a good man. Somebody who could give her the life she deserved.
So why the hell did watching it happen make me want to throw the whole damn plan in the trash?
I clenched my jaw before forcing myself to relax just as Jenay walked over and wrapped me in a quick hug.
“It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
The four of us slid into the booth, with Jenay taking the seat beside me and James settling in next to Rebel.
We looked over the menu and placed our orders.
Rebel and I ordered the exact same thing, ten-piece honey lemon pepper wings with potato wedges.
We didn’t even have to ask what the other wanted.
After all these years, we already knew. Once the waiter took our order, the conversation flowed as easily as the drinks.
“I ain’t gonna lie. It feels good seeing everybody again.”
“It really do,” Rebel agreed.