Chapter 1 #3
He met my gaze once more. “That’s what concerns me. You’d rather be in between some thighs than focus on what’s important.”
“I like money more than I like sex, and that ain’t ever gonna change,” I stated.
I never brought women home to meet my parents.
In the past, in my early twenties, I had attempted a couple of relationships that my parents did meet and had liked, but me being me, neither had worked out.
Unlike my father, I didn’t do faithful well.
Even with the current way I lived, I had everything in check—save for one almost ruined wall in my crib.
Maybe a couple of women had come by the club to find me, but even then, it was never out of control or a bad situation.
For some men, pussy was their weakness, for me, it was a perk, a bonus—something I could go with or without.
Now, money, power, and respect? Those were what I truly craved and coveted.
You could get pussy anywhere, those other three, not so much.
Thirty before thirty, that was the goal.
At least, metaphorically. To be so accomplished before the big three-o, that was the motto.
I focused on the thick gold ring on my middle finger as I twisted it to distract myself from my raging disappointment.
I was tempted to throw a tantrum and walk out, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere.
I did everything he asked me to. I went to school and got a degree in business. I showed up on time and stayed behind. I thought ahead and studied the competition—I earned BLVCKJVCK. It was more mine in theory, than it was his on paper.
Without me, the business would’ve failed.
I rebranded the club from a dying spot called Lounge and made it what it was.
I created the new name, the central theme, the nights dedicated to old R&B, the atmosphere of a strictly Black staff.
I made sure our female employees were always safe, and any time a male customer made them uncomfortable I had them banned for life.
At the root of the club, I designed it all, from name, to the color scheme, and the furniture and setup.
Everything was dipped in matte black and gold.
BLVCKJVCK itself was divided into four areas dedicated to playing card suits, the forefront, or main floor: the Club Suite where you drank from the bar, danced, or sat back at one of the tables or booths bordering the walls.
At the back of the club: the Heart Suite, an area many walked to with pride or on the sneak.
An area hosting a hall of only six rooms for privacy.
What went down in them was up to the patrons.
The second level of the building: the Diamond Suite, where the VIP lounge was stashed away for celebrity guests or exclusive people who paid the extra price to get a pass.
The enclosed rooftop deck: the Spade Suite, for those who wanted to get away and enjoy a night view alongside fire pits.
Pops had wrinkled his nose at the idea of condom dispensers in the restrooms, but I lived in reality, and whether or not people fucked at our club, safe sex was a message that never went out of style.
I’d walked into the public men’s restroom and seen so many women or men getting their tonsils spray-painted in a stall, I knew what was up.
At twenty-seven, I’d never felt skin, and though I often heard it was a pleasure above all delicacies, I wasn’t risking my future on it. I didn’t even take head from just anybody.
I. Was. Responsible.
“You’re turning twenty-eight. You’re almost thirty.
When are you going to settle down and get serious?
Start a life, spend time out of the club than always in it on the hunt?
” Pops questioned. “Owning it requires a level of maturity I’m not sure you have.
I was married with you on the way by the time I was your age.
I worked the club, but I didn’t focus on the party. ”
Scratching along my jaw, I put on a poker face. Losing my temper would ruin everything I’d worked so hard for. But Pops was pushing all the right buttons.
It was me who made BLVCKJVCK prominent, me and my Midas touch.
I wasn’t a romance enthusiast. I wasn’t interested in dating and falling in love.
I didn’t want to be home more. I partied, but it was for show, for business.
I wasn’t a drunk and I didn’t smoke all that much.
I could handle ownership. I deserved ownership.
It was a lousy copout to hit below the belt and bring up my love life otherwise.
“How much did the club make last year?” I challenged.
Pops sighed. “The club made a lot of money last year, Eazy. I’m aware of your potential, but this is a lot of power I’d be handing you, and I just think you need a little more time.
Be patient, son. There’s no one else I’d sign it over to, but for now, let’s just celebrate you being another year older. ”
It was all bullshit, but what the fuck could I do but sit there and take it?
So, grudgingly, like a prince destined for the crown, I waited.