Prologue #4
“Business stress,” I corrected.
He gave me a look. “You sure it ain’t nothing else?”
I frowned. “Something else like what?”
“Shit… a woman, maybe.” A half-smirk pulled at his mouth.
I stared at Knox like he’d just volunteered to be slapped. “A woman? Why the hell would I be stressing over a bitch?”
“Because lately, you keep collecting them like reward points.”
“I don’t collect women.”
“Nigga, yes, you do. You got one calling your phone like she your parole officer, another one probably waiting on a ‘you up?’ text, and I’m willing to bet there’s at least two more who think they the only one.”
I took another sip. “That sounds like their lack of communication, not my problem.”
He shook his head. “One day, some woman gon’ have you checking yo’ phone every five minutes, buying flowers, and apologizing for your tone.”
“Knox, women keep me entertained. That’s it. I’d trust gas-station sushi sitting under a heat lamp in July before I trusted one with my peace of mind. And the day I start losing sleep over a woman is the same day my bank account sits me down and tells me it expected better.”
Knox barked out a laugh.
“Real talk. I’m not tossing and turning trying to determine why a woman viewed my story but ignored my message or why her goodnight text went from three kissing emojis to a damn thumbs-up.
I’m not pacing the room because some woman sent me to voicemail and decided to disappear for the rest of the night.
And I’m damn sure not stressing because some woman canceled plans, got vague about where she was going, and expected me to care enough to ask twice.
Business, on the other hand? That’ll keep me awake all damn night.
If I’m staring at the ceiling at three in the morning, it’s because money moving funny, somebody under me forgot their position, or a shipment took a detour without permission.
Anything that ain’t making me money can wait until business hours. ”
“Women don’t have business hours,” he joked.
“Mine do.” I let a few seconds pass before confessing, “But nah, Pops been on my ass again about finding a wife and having a kid. You know the speech.”
Knox nodded, knowingly. “Yeah. But what is the hold up with that, though? With all the hoes you got, nigga yo’ ass got plenty of options at yo’ fingertips. Choose one of them. Problem solved.”
“Keyword… hoes. Knox, half of ’em don’t even want my ass for real; they just like the lifestyle.”
“What about that Zonnique chick? She’s… something.”
Damn. Out of all the woman on my roster, Zonnique is the one everybody keeps trying to put on a fuckin’ pedestal.
Is she fine? Hell yeah.
But the other women are too… at least I thought they were. Now everybody got me questioning whether I’ve been fucking in poor lighting.
Maybe Zonnique stood out because she made herself known more than the others.
The rest of the women understood how to enjoy the dick benefits, minded their business, and quietly returned to their own lives.
In simpler terms, they knew their place.
Zonnique, on the other hand, kept trying to redecorate hers.
I scoffed. “Nigga, you sound like Pops. But yeah, she’s something alright—something bougie, something dramatic, and something I should’ve left where the hell I found her ass.
But yeah, none of them hoes are built for this life or worthy of rocking my last name, especially Zonnique.
I can’t trust her with a secret, let alone a legacy. ”
Knox chuckled. “You wanna know what yo’ problem is? You keep picking women who look good in drama. You seem to like pretty problems, bruh.”
As if on cue, my phone lit up.
Zonnique.
I stared at it for a long second, jaw clenching.
Knox noticed the caller and smirked. “You gon’ answer that before she tracks yo’ location and pull up?”
I exhaled, snatched the phone from the table, and answered. “Yeah?”
“Yeah? You only answer the phone like that when you’re around another bitch!” Zonnique yelled, her voice sharp and accusing over the line.
“Then you should be flattered... it means you crossed my mind before she did,” I replied, trying to inject a bit of sarcasm and nonchalance into my tone.
There was a sharp inhale on the other end.
“And what’s all that noise?! Are you at a club?!”
“Nah, I’m at Bible study. The choir singing like they got a record deal, the pastor sweating through his suit, and ushers passing out Hennessy shots for communion. The whole place real spiritual tonight. You’d fit right in… everybody yelling for no damn reason.”
“Merge—”
“Look, Zonnique,” I cut her off, turning serious, “stop calling my damn phone like you the warden and I skipped roll call. You got my number, not my loyalty. And since you seem to keep forgetting, let me remind you again—you not my fuckin’ girl.
I don’t owe you an explanation, an update, or a check-in every five damn minutes, so stop trying to keep tabs on me. ”
I paused, already irritated that the conversation had lasted this long.
“You want something you can monitor all day, get a pet. I don’t do ownership. We cool when it’s convenient, but outside of that, stay in yo’ lane and stop acting like you got a position nobody gave you. Now, do me a favor and go be mad somewhere quiet. You sound a whole lot better on mute.”
With that, I ended the call.
Knox let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a half-grin. “Nigga, you really just told that woman to go be mad somewhere quiet. That’s a whole new level of disrespect.”
I took a slow sip of my drink, completely unbothered. “Disrespect is calling my phone like she’s my wife and catching an attitude because I left her on read or questioning where I’m at, who I’m with, when I’m coming home, and why I left the damn toilet seat up when she don’t even live with me.”
Knox chuckled. “You know… marriage just might humble yo’ ass.”
I leaned back in my seat. “Marriage gotta catch me first.”
His laughter grew louder, but I didn’t join him.
Being tied down to somebody was the last thing I wanted to discuss that night.
On some real shit, I didn’t wanna talk about anything involving family, expectations, or business.
I wanted silence, whiskey, and maybe something—or someone—tempting enough to help me forget everything waiting for me once the liquor wore off.
Thirty minutes later, I was seven drinks in, feeling good as hell, and convinced the night still owed me something. I reclined in my seat, scanning the lounge like I was shopping for trouble and had an unlimited budget.
My eyes landed on a fine ass beauty whose body was basically a written invitation to fuck up my whole night.
She was seated near the end of bar, engrossed in her phone.
She appeared to be alone but far from lonely.
And the way her thumbs moved across the phone screen let me know that she was either cussin’ somebody out in real time or typing the longest breakup text in human history. Either way, I was intrigued.
The DJ switched songs, and the crowd erupted even louder, but she might as well have been sitting alone in her living room.
She never once looked up to scan the room or acknowledge the chaos unfolding around her.
Whatever was happening on that phone had her so locked in that I was starting to feel sorry for whoever was on the receiving end of those messages.
I took another sip of my drink.
Yeah, she’s definitely the kind of woman who’d either ruin my night or make it unforgettable.
The dangerous part was not caring which one it turned out to be.
I watched her a little longer, while taking leisure sips of my drink.
She shifted in her seat, slowly uncrossing her legs before crossing them again.
Every time she moved, that red dress crept a little higher, exposing more of those smooth, golden thighs.
The neckline dipped low enough to give me a tempting glimpse of what was underneath while leaving just enough hidden to keep my imagination busy.
And my imagination was already doing way too much damn work.
Knox noticed the shift. “Who the hell got yo’ full attention for more than thirty seconds? That’s new.”
I set my glass down. “You know her?”
“Who?” he asked, looking around.
I tilted my chin toward ol’ girl. “Shawty in the red dress.”
Knox followed my line of sight, then shook his head. “Nah. Can’t say I’ve ever seen her before. Why you ask, though?”
I smirked faintly. “Just asking.”
Knox groaned, already knowing what type of time I was on. “Nah… you don’t ask questions just to ask. There’s always some kind of hidden agenda with yo’ ass.”
“I’m a businessman… everything I do has a purpose.
” I paused, glancing back in her direction.
“But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have something up my sleeve where she’s concerned.
I wanna see what that pussy hitting on. Hell, I might disappear under that dress and conduct a private investigation, see if she tastes as good as she looks. ”
Knox nearly choked on his drink from laughing.
“You good, nigga?” I asked, patting his back while he coughed like the liquor had tried to kill him.
He coughed a few more times before pointing at me. “Nigga… every thought of yours don’t need a damn microphone.”
I laughed. “What? Honesty is important in friendships.”
When Knox finally caught his breath, he shook his head. “Merge, you already half drunk, nigga. The last thing you need is another problem wearing a red dress, perfume, and heels.”
I chuckled. “Every fine woman ain’t a problem.”
He scoffed. “Nigga, you don’t even believe that shit.”
“I’m serious. Somewhere in this world, there are fine women who are stable, unproblematic, emotionally mature, and somebody’s favorite employee of the month.”
“Yeah… somewhere.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “So, you saying yo’ woman crazy?” I challenged, referring to his wife, Janira.
Knox tilted his head, looking genuinely offended. “Nigga… you saying my wife fine?”
I stared at him. “Are you saying she’s not?”
“That ain’t what I asked.”