Chapter 3 #2
“Tee Money will give me a share. A percentage. I would own the club, partially. Shit, I could tap into my savings and buy a spot and just say fuck it and do it all on my own.”
Cesar blinked, twisting at his hair. “I mean… What would you even call the club? What would be the setup?”
I smirked. “It’ll come to me. I could do it all again, make it bigger and better. All of BLVCKJVCK’s people are my people. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much for them to come with me. I got connections and a name in Atlanta, I could do it.”
My best friend rubbed at his neck. “Yo, Eaze, you my boy—my brother, even, but I’m not sure I could do this to your pops.
I barely made it through college, but your pops had my back in putting me on with BLVCKJVCK.
My own father don’t give a shit about me, but Luke look out for me.
He call me on Sunday mornings just like he call you.
I feel you and all, but I couldn’t go with you. ”
It was disappointing to hear, but I wasn’t surprised. “It would take a year.”
“If it would take you a year to create something new, why not wait a year to see what happens with your pops, man? Shit, he may change his mind next week.”
I hated that he was right. That the time frame required patience no matter what.
“Nah, it ain’t sound like it. He was married to my mom pretty early.
He all about family, and he wants me to be all about family.
They had me when he was twenty-eight, they were ready for forever then.
Me? Nah. Forever’s a big word that’s not in my vocabulary.
You know what’s forever, Cease? Money. Dead presidents. That’s all I’m about right now.”
“I hear you.” He reached out and slapped me five. “But be patient, because it ain’t gon’ feel right unless your pops is behind you.”
“He should be behind me now,” I argued.
“A man’s name and his family are all he has,” Cesar pointed out. “That and his dick.”
I didn’t want to go against my father, but it felt like I had no choice. He could retire early, spend his days with my mother, and leave the club to me.
“And I’m trying to preserve both,” I insisted.
Still, Cesar wasn’t convinced. “A man who betrays his father? Can he be trusted? Your pops is good to you, he gives you the world, and you plot against him because he wants you to wait for the title? You burn that bridge and you start a war and ruin your family.”
I hung my head, hearing his words echo in my mind. I was my pops’s only boy, the heir to the Marcuson legacy. Perhaps, I was being ungrateful and greedy.
Like Regina, Cesar had a point, and I knew deep down I couldn’t go through with it. No matter how tempting it was.
To betray your own father was to smite your name. Pops was good to me. He was just sentimental, kind, and a romantic. In his own way, he was looking out for me, thinking he held my best interests at heart. Love wasn’t missing in my life. Power was.
I tucked in my silky’s cape, accepting Pops’s word and deciding to wait.
“AHHHH!”
A child’s squeal screeched through the large gym, bouncing off the walls, drawing notice to the woman who had brought in a couple of her kids with her.
I winced at the sound; annoyance quick to take over. The only reason I didn’t say anything, was because I knew not all parents could afford childcare.
I dug into my shorts for my earbuds as I glanced over at the commotion. That’s when I saw her.
The mom was embarrassed as she tried to round up her troop, but her youngest, a toddler, was just calming down as another woman was handing over a fuzzy rabbit, smiling and waving as she did so.
Big, silky hair framed her face and brushed past her shoulders. She was in matching workout gear. A sports bra and yoga shorts. Bright orange, or maybe salmon, a neon beacon calling my attention to her. Her golden-brown complexion was complemented by this color, too.
“Check out Little Miss Humble,” Cesar joked as he also watched the exchange.
His words barely registered. I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Her sports bra offered a nice amount of cleavage, but I was stuck on them shorts, shorts that were graciously hugging her hips.
Ass? Breasts? I wasn’t picky about either, just as long as I had something to grab.
One thing though, I was definitely a leg man.
Had been ever since watching Salma Hayek shove her foot in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth and pour whiskey down her leg in From Dusk Till Dawn—or really it was the snake dance prior where she was wiggling those natural hips and was just. All. Legs. It was my awakening.
I loved me some nice legs.
This woman, this Pretty Young Thing, wasn’t that tall, but in those shorts of hers she was legs, and I had to angle my head to examine the curve of them.
“Yeah.” I stroked my jaw, watching the PYT walk off. “I think I want a slice of humble pie.”
Cesar cracked a smile. “Yo, only you, man.”
He plugged in his earbuds and was ready to get lost in his workout. I should’ve joined in, seeing how women were a problem for me and all, but something drove me across the room where Miss PYT was reaching up and pulling all that hair into a ponytail.
“Excuse me,” I spoke up to gain her attention.
She turned, lowering her arms, at first alarmed to see me out of nowhere.
Up close, I towered over her easily by a whole foot I was sure.
I really admired the way the material of her sports bra and shorts embraced her slender figure.
On the right side of her collarbone was a tattoo.
Even with the strap of her bra, I could make out the words Under the Cherry Moon embedded in a fine cursive script.
It was both a Prince song and a film he’d starred in.
Fascinating.
It was rude to stare, so I focused on her eyes. “Hey—”
Her full lips were marring in a frown. “I’m sorry, but no.”
I hadn’t asked her anything. “No?”