Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Joy woke up early and spent extra time at the gym that morning.
Mel had graciously rolled out of bed to accompany her, a welcomed stress reliever.
She was one of the only people who could keep up with her in the ring, and having an opponent that moved and hit back was exactly what Joy needed to clear her mind, and burn some excess energy before her first day at her new job.
The gym was packed with people practicing self defense or just getting a workout in. They all paused when the television playing the news piqued their interest.
“In other news, law enforcement are still investigating the gruesome murders of Perry Mack and Mitchell Jenkins at The Sapphire Lounge and Nightclub two weekends ago. At this time there are no suspects.”
“Tuh,” Tisha, one of the women in the self defense group, scoffed. “I say they stop looking and let the motherfuckas rest in hell.”
Joy turned to her. “You know them?”
Tisha nodded, taking a sip of her water.
“Perry is my cousin’s baby daddy. Or was.
He put his hands on her so bad, she had to move to Philly just to keep him from killing her and even then, he didn’t stop until she got a new man that whooped his ass for coming around.
He swore he was untouchable because he worked for the Black Mafia. ”
“Of course,” Nia, Mr. Johnson’s daughter, scoffed. “Bitch ass niggas like him always think they’re a big dog until a real one shows up.”
“Have you seen the pictures of his face?” Tisha asked. “It looks like the biggest dog showed up and showed the fuck out.”
That earned a chuckle from Joy and cackles from the rest of the women.
At least something good came from that night, Joy thought.
Two good things, a little voice in her head reminded her.
The hazel eyed man from the roof’s face appeared in her mind’s eye with that sexy smirk of his and onyx skin but Joy pushed it away. She had more pressing things to worry about today.
Joy felt Mel’s questioning gaze searing the side of her face. Her cousin didn’t dare voice the accusation but their conversation was stifled for the rest of the morning.
Mellowed and showered, Joy got ready for her day in silence.
She paid extra attention to her hair, finger coiling the strands meticulously, ensuring maximum definition.
The sweet scent of the vanilla and honey curl cream pleased her senses and not for the first time since she’d left home, she thought of her mother.
Beauty was a ritual Michelle Thibodeaux taught Joy to take pride in from a young age.
It was Michelle’s sister who continued the lessons when Joy’s mother wasn’t there.
Joy soaked up the teachings from her aunt who, despite everything Byron had her doing, was determined to ensure Joy maintained her femininity.
She taught her how to cover bruises with color correctors and concealer and how to behave at a dinner table with Byron’s allies.
What started off as small pockets of normalcy in a world that seemed to have flipped upside down, eventually became another layer to the armor that had been placed on her.
She was proficient in hand to hand combat in 6 inch stilettos and was taught how to slit a throat without leaving any traces on her couture.
Joy pulled her old jewelry from the back of the closet—the few pieces she'd managed to keep from home—along with the new wardrobe she and Mel had spent an entire weekend putting together. She'd had to rebuild it all from scratch. Piece by piece.
Joy chose her outfit for the day, preparing for the battle ahead.
Her pencil skirt and pumps served as armor.
The pantyhose and pearls were a costume she donned to disarm her opponents.
The kind of danger she harbored was entwined in her DNA and required layers and layers to remain hidden.
The daughter of a gangster and a debutante, Joy felt naked if she left the house without her pistol or her earrings.
The bracelet she clasped around her wrist held the Greek letters of her sorority dangling from it and the large ring she slipped on her middle finger had the seal of her top 20 ranked Alma Mater pressed into the gold.
As the cold metal of the jewelry kissed her skin and the height of the sling back heels stretched her calves, Joy smiled. She was starting to look like herself again. Feel like herself again. Not the monster her father had cultivated and cast aside, but the weapon.
The asset.
The queen.
In a little over an hour, Joy was presentable and pleased with her appearance, so she grabbed her tote bag and headed downstairs.
In the kitchen, she munched on toast and boiled eggs to put something on her stomach as she waited for her coffee to brew.
The sound of her phone’s vibration on the counter pulled her attention towards it.
Her brows knitted together as she watched the unknown number ring across her screen. She made no moves to answer it, instead letting the call go to voicemail.
She turned away from the device to wash her dishes and get ready to leave when the screen lit up with a text.
Unknown: Yo it’s Glock. Just wanted to let ya know I miss you and I’m thinking about you. Call me if you need anything. Love
Joy’s breath stuttered and her heart started to pound like it was attempting to jump out of her chest and through the screen to her best friend.
For a moment, she considered ignoring it. She hadn’t spoken to him since her exile. Though she’d gotten a new phone and number, his silence gave her time to wonder what he thought of her.
Her own shame had kept her from reaching out. Not until she was normal.
But on this day, when her confidence was shaky and her anxiety was high, she needed him. She needed a little piece of home. A reminder of the version of herself she was fighting to get back to.
Before she could change her mind, she dialed the number back, listening with a racing heart as the line trilled.
“What’s good, Princess?”
“Glock,” she breathed, the slow drawl of his voice transporting her home and wrapping her in comfort.
“Oh, so you do remember me?”
Joy smacked her lips, a smile already creeping its way onto her face. “Nigga stop playing.”
“Shii I wasn’t sure the way you dipped out and went ghost on a nigga. I had to beg Mel for your new number just to do a wellness check. It’s cool though, I won’t take it personal.”
Zyaire “Glock” Jefferson was like a brother to Joy.
Together, they were plucked from childhood and trained to be the future ruthless leaders of the Cartel.
They’d grown up together and built a bond that went deeper than blood.
In the back of her head, she knew he wouldn’t judge her but Joy didn’t even recognize herself, how would her oldest friend react to this new, more pitiful version of her?
“Well my dad and Cleve threatened my life if they ever saw or heard from me again. I wasn’t sure if you…”
“Felt the same way.”
“Yeah,” Joy admitted.
“My loyalty is to you, Princess. Always. You know that.”
“I know it’s just… nothing I thought I knew seems to apply anymore,” she sighed.
“I understand. Shit is all fucked up. I won’t ask where you are but you straight?”
Joy shrugged as if he could see her. “Everything is everything. I’m safe. Nothing eventful.”
“That’s good,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “No episodes?” he asked after a stretch of silence.
Joy sighed. “Nah,” she lied. “Not yet anyway.” She chose to keep Perry to herself. She didn’t want to hear the disappointment in his voice when he realized that the distance hadn’t done her any good.
“Don’t talk like that.”
Joy ignored his chastising and opted to change the subject instead. “How is everything down there?”
“As good as they can be. Cleve hasn’t run this Cartel into the ground just yet. Your presence is definitely missed though.”
“Hm…”
“It’s been very clear that they never planned to let you have your place back. At least not Cleve. The way things are running, this was clearly his plan as soon as you got sent away.”
“God, I should’ve killed that nigga.”
She’d given her blood for the Cartel and she wanted blood in return. She’d given her life to it and now, she wanted a life in return.
She’d done everything she was supposed to do, been everything she was supposed to be. Yet, in their eyes, she took it too far. She was no longer under control. She was a liability.
Joy tamped down her bloodlust, feeling her body grow hot and her vision blur.
“Aye and you wild as fuck for Captain Hook’in that nigga. I almost fell out laughing when I heard you did that shit,” Glock continued, cackling.
“How did you hear?” Joy asked.
“Key and his niggas were there picking up work and heard all the commotion. Of course, Cleve is going around saving face saying he got into it with some Louisiana niggas.”
Joy shook her head. He’d rather give credit where it didn’t belong than admit to being bested by the Princess. The Princess he’d played a hand in casting out.
“Of course,” Joy rolled her eyes.
“So wassup? You gon’ make a play to come back? I’m not advocating for war but this is yo shit. If you tryna take it back in blood you know I’m with you.”
Joy hesitated for a moment before she answered. Glock was her oldest friend, closer to her than her own blood brother. If she could trust no one else to help her with her plans, she could trust him.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day and it wasn’t built alone. Every great ruler needs a great team.”
“Since I fucked up the alliance with Jermaine, I’m up here trying to form new ones to prove I can still be useful. Keeping my head down, staying out of trouble to prove I’m not a liability anymore. Hopefully once my dad sees that, he’ll let me come back. Peacefully.”
“Okay okay. That’s a good plan. I’ll keep you updated on shit through our old cloud drive. You have access to a secure connection?”
“I can get one.”
“Bet, I’ll send the encrypted reports through there.”