The scent in the air was layered. Sweat, expensive cologne, champagne, and the strong aroma of ambition. There was a bite to it. A weight. The kind of air that made weak girls dizzy and strong ones sharper.
I built this place to feel like sin wrapped in silk. Intimate, indulgent, but never sloppy. Nothing cheap happened here. I hated cheap strip clubs.
Smoke sat across from me on the velvet seat as if he were the boss. His legs were stretched wide and he was leaned back smoking a cigar. I had the windows cracked because my office could get very stuffy. He was wearing gold chains, Timberlands and a crisp white tee.
Smoke was an OG. He wanted me but I learned long ago to not mix business with pleasure. Besides, he was true to his name and couldn’t be trusted.
“I take it you been thinkin’ about my offer,” he finally said, voice low.
“I thought about it,” I said, flicking ash from my clove into the tray beside me. “And I came to the same conclusion I always do when it comes to you. Fuck no.”
“Goddamn, you so sexy when you mad,” he said, licking his bottom lip. “Mouth like a razor. Pussy probably bite too.”
I gave him nothing. Just leaned back, unimpressed. “Listen, the club’s turning a profit. I paid you back. Every dime. So unless you came to buy a dance, you can see your way out.”
Smoke chuckled, but it was empty. Just a sound he made when he was about to strong-arm you and wanted to soften the blow.
“That little loan bought you more than breathing room, Queen Marie,” he said, dragging my full name out like foreplay. “It bought you me. And now I’m ready to collect.”
My jaw tightened.
“You want to run drugs through my club and clean your dirty cash here. And I already said no.”
“I just want to provide a premium service to a premium clientele and clean my drug money. That’s the same money that I lent you to keep the lights on in this mothafucka,” he said.
A few years ago Sylk had gotten into some financial trouble and I was close to having to close the doors. Because of my conwoman mother, my credit was in the trash and I couldn’tget a loan from a legitimate bank. So, I turned to Smoke for a loan. That nigga killed people who didn’t pay him back on time, so I made sure I did. I worked hard, became more shrewd and watched every penny that came through my hands.
I paid him off and lived simply. My life wasn’t luxurious but it was mine and I had no debt.
I simply stared at him. The music from the club rattled the air vent, bass-heavy and slow. Downstairs, Jupiter was probably working the pole like it owed her money. She had some hedge fund manager thinking he was in love, and he came every night to see her, spending big dollars.
“If I say no?” I asked, even though I knew.
He shrugged. “Then we gon’ have some serious issues. I’ll burn this mothafucka down with you inside. Shit, at least if you got insurance, it’ll go to that crazy-ass daughter of yours.”
“Watch it,” I threatened.
He let out a low laugh before taking another pull of his cigar. “Look, I like you Queenie. You a boss bitch doing ya thing. I’ve always respected you but when you took that loan from me, you got in bed with the devil. I know what your books look like. I’m gonna clean my money here. And don’t worry, I’ll compensate you for your inconvenience. I know you gotta be tired of driving that twelve-year-old Acura.”
I rolled my eyes at his assumption. I was fine with my car. And I knew why he was asking about laundering money in my club. His other clubs had been shut down for various violations. He was running out of ways to wash his drug money. And now somehow that was my problem.
I crossed my legs slow and leaned forward. “Just coke. No pills. No fentanyl. I catch somebody OD’ing in my club, I’ll take my chances with NYPD and point them right to you.”
He grinned like that excited him. “Deal. My shit’s clean. I only source the best.”
“You better.”
Smoke stood, adjusting his watch like I didn’t just sell a piece of my soul between puffs of smoke.
“You ever think about expanding?” he said on his way out. “Vegas? Miami? Sylk Road deserves a franchise.”
“I’m good,” I muttered, already lighting another clove. “I don’t need the whole world. I just want my corner of it to run smooth.”
He nodded and walked out. “I look forward to doing more business with you. Maybe one day you’ll finally say yes to a date.”
It would be a cold day in hell before I ever dated that man.
The door clicked shut behind Smoke, but the stench of his cigar smoke and arrogance lingered in the air. I cracked the window wider, letting in the noise from Lenox Avenue and the cool rush of Harlem night. I needed it. Anything to shake off that uneasy feeling that came from dealing with him.
