Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Joy felt like a zombie or a ghost haunting the halls of Thibodeaux Trucking as she walked in the office. She’d done all she could to lock in on her goal and her duty but her soul seemed to revolt against it.
This is where you belong, she reminded herself.
A voice in her head that sounded eerily like Ace’s spoke then.
But is it what you want? The voice asked. Or just what you think you deserve?
Before she had time to ponder it, a familiar frame leaned against the entrance to the back hallway gave her pause.
Long and lean, with locs pulled to the back of his head.
Arms crossed over his chest with a toothpick between his teeth.
“Wassup princess,” he said softly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
“Glock,” Joy smiled as relief settled over her. The familiar face was grounding. Her partner in crime was a reminder of all she’d worked so hard to return to.
He pushed off the wall and held his hand out. Joy slapped and gripped it in a dap then initiated the handshake they’d created as children that sealed their bond.
“It’s good to see you,” he said with that crooked smile Joy was always immune to but seemed to make every other woman from Houston to Miami swoon.
“It’s good to see you too,” she replied with a smile of her own.
He pulled the toothpick from his mouth, his gaze assessing as his brows pinched. “You good?”
Joy blinked. “Y-Yeah… Yeah I’m good. Why?” she asked, blinking the uncertainty, fatigue, and overwhelming melancholy from her eyes.
“You don’t look like yourself,” Glock observed.
“I don’t feel like myself,” she admitted quietly. The woman she thought she’d snap back into when she returned home didn’t seem to exist anymore. She didn't feel like herself. She felt new in a way that no longer fit in this life and this place and the thought was terrifying.
Glock’s look of concern hardened. “You don’t have to do this. You know that right?”
Joy sighed. “This is mine,” she explained for the second time since she’d returned, trying to convince herself as well as Glock. “I can’t just give it up. I won’t.”
Glock nodded but before he could respond, Joy felt another presence join them.
She turned to find Jermaine standing there.
“Good morning,” he smiled.
“It was before you showed up,” Joy grumbled, looking Jermaine and his poorly tailored suit up and down. She couldn't help but compare how he looked in his off the rack suit to how Ace looked in his custom designer.
Stop it, she scolded herself.
“Hm. I thought we fixed this issue but I see we’re gonna have to work on that mouth,” Jermaine glowered down at her, the sick anticipation of what he planned to do to her shining in his eyes.
“You got bigger fish to fry, my nigga. You need to work on finding a barber that won’t push your shit back,” Glock commented.
Joy couldn’t contain the snicker that bubbled out of her mouth.
Jermaine turned his glare on Glock then. “You should really show me some more respect. I’ll be your boss soon.”
Glock grinned, removing the toothpick from between his teeth and flicking it at Jermaine’s feet.
“Let’s get a few things straight,” he said, taking a step forward. Jermaine retreated with each step but Glock kept coming.
“I don’t have no ‘boss’. I’m a grown ass man. Second of all, respect, like wives, are earned, not bought with daddy’s money. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”
Jermaine’s nostrils flared. “I’d like to speak to my fiancé alone,” he said instead of acknowledging Glock’s words.
Glock turned to Joy and she nodded, letting him know it was okay.
Without another word, Glock shoved past Jermaine, heading in the direction of the loading dock.
She turned, finding Jermaine standing there holding a bouquet of flowers and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“What do you want?” she asked, not returning the smile.
“I came to talk to you,” he answered.
“I don’t have shit to say to you.”
He clacked his teeth with a tsk. “Come on now, love. We’re about to be married. Don’t you think it’s time for a truce?”
Jermaine brought one hand from behind his back, producing a bouquet of flowers.
“What’s this?” Joy scowled.
“A peace offering,” he said with a smile.
He extended his hands and Joy’s scowl deepened.
The bouquet made her stomach turn.
The red roses mocked her and the thought of taking them from any man but Ace made her soul revolt at the betrayal.
She stepped away, not even attempting to accept them.
“What? You don’t like roses?”
“No,” she lied.
Jermaine chuckled and lowered his arms back at his sides, a few petals dropping onto the marble floor as the bouquet dangled above it.
His eyes fell to her chest and only then did she realize she was touching the necklace. She didn’t drop her hand though, instead continuing to call upon the comfort it gave her.
Jermaine’s eyes darkened as he zeroed in on the movement but he didn’t speak on it. Instead, his lips spread in a smug, teasing grin.
“Guess I should have figured that,” he shrugged. “Normal women like roses… but you’re not normal, are you Rose?”
Joy cringed.
She didn’t like the way he said it. The way he leered down at her with disdain and accusation.
Like an indictment and a reminder that she didn’t deserve good things.
“No, I’m not. And you’ll do well to remember the hole in your shoulder should you ever forget that,” Joy tossed back.
Jermaine’s teasing smile hardened. “You know you’ll pay for that right?” He taunted, stepping closer.
“Being in your presence is penance enough.”
“I’m just getting started, my love.”
He shoved past her, knocking her shoulder in the process, and dropped the roses at her feet before walking into the office.
Joy stood stock still until she heard the door close behind him. She turned, ensuring he was gone, then stooped to rescue the heap of flowers scattered around her stilettos.
She scooped up a few stems and straightened the petals.
She stared at them, touching the pendant on her chest.
Sighing, she dropped the flowers and stood, smoothing down her Prada dress. She squared her shoulders, strengthened her resolve, and walked inside.
Joy fingered the rose pendant around her neck mindlessly. She sat in her father’s office, at her place to his right at the conference table.
The board of advisors surrounded the table, with Jermaine occupying Cleve’s old seat. They all discussed strategy and planning for circumventing the trouble Cleve had gotten them in.
This was what Joy wanted. An opportunity to prove herself and reclaim her place. Now that she had it though, she couldn’t focus. Her mind wandered away from government bribes and legal strategy and towards New York.
She wondered what was going on at the firm.
She thought about Mel.
She thought about April.
She thought about Ace and if he missed her as badly as she missed him.
“What do you think, Princess?” her father asked, that same soft pride now back in his voice and eyes since he needed her.
Joy blinked hard, tearing her subconscious away from New York. Away from him.
All eyes were on her as she swallowed, racking her brain for context of the conversation she hadn’t paid attention to.
“I…” she started. “I think we need to take a conservative approach. Right now, we still have enough plausible deniability to argue that Cleveland was working on his own, and he’s not here to refute that claim.
If we move too aggressively, they’ll look harder.
Right now, we move like innocent business owners, eager to assist law enforcement in investigating what put our business in jeopardy.
We’re victims,” she said coolly, finally finding her groove.
A quick glance around the room revealed that it was working. The attentive stares from the board and nod of approval from Glock let her know she was on the right path. Her father’s expression was stone, but he didn’t interrupt, so she took that as a sign to keep going.
“Last I checked, the head of the port authority plays golf with city councilman Mathis. A donation to his reelection campaign may warrant him putting in some good words on our behalf to get our license reinstated while the investigation takes place.”
Byron nodded then. “Good. I like that plan. Jermaine, you’ll handle the councilman.”
Joy’s eyes narrowed. “And what about me?”
“You have a wedding to plan,” Jermaine cut in. “Again.” His grin was smug and teasing as he met Joy’s scowl.
“You’ll work on retraining the team. They got real lax under Cleve’s leadership,” Byron cut in before the two could begin arguing.
Before Joy could protest further, he moved on, his decision final.
The rest of the meeting was a blur around her. Her ears caught onto words every so often, but her mind drifted off to New York.
Joy was young when her mother died but this was as close a feeling to grief as she’d experienced since then. She longed for the life she’d found in New York but her mind reminded her that she was where she was supposed to be.
Nothing about her time at home felt like it had before. She felt out of place, like she was wearing the skin of a stranger. She’d achieved her goal, been welcomed back, but still felt like she’d lost.
Her mind pondered this for the remainder of the meeting, her head and heart at odds.
It took everything in her not to book a flight back to the east coast but she stood firm.
Her father’s office emptied out after the meeting but Joy hung back. She ran her hands across the mahogany wood of Byron’s desk.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she moved, the same floors that held the blood she’d spilled and taken in the name of her training and the success of the Cartel.
Her hands stopped their progression as she came to the photo on the desk, framed in gold. She and Byron smiled ear to ear as he held her close. She was dressed in her law school graduation regalia, the final step of her training complete and the future ahead of her.
Her father had told her he was proud of her so many times that day, tears stung her eyes.
Six months ago, she wanted nothing more than to hear those words from him again.