“Look, just come by the office Monday. I want to talk to you about how you’ll fit into all this.”
I could’ve argued. Could’ve told him I didn’t need to fit into nothing, that I’d been doing just fine without the family business for over a decade. But Quest wasn’t gonna let this go, and I wastired. Plus, it was my birthday, apparently, and I didn’t feel like arguing.
“Aight. Whatever, man,” I said, just to get him off my back.
Quest grinned like he’d just won something.
He hadn’t. But he didn’t need to know that yet.
The VIP room was cool, but it was still a room. After about twenty minutes of catching up—and enduring everyone singing “Happy Birthday” while I stood there looking annoyed—Quest suggested we head out to the balcony. The VIP balcony at Onyx was legendary—wraparound, overlooking the entire main floor, giving you a bird’s eye view of everything while still being part of the action.
We pushed through the glass doors and the bass hit different out here. Louder, more visceral. The club was packed, bodies moving in waves, lights cutting through the smoke like lasers.
I posted up at the railing, Banks Reserve still in hand. Justice came and stood next to me, quiet in that way he’d been ever since Monica passed. Cancer took her three months ago, and my brother hadn’t been the same since.
“You good?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
Justice took a sip of his drink, eyes on the crowd below. “I’m here.”
That wasn’t an answer, but it was all I was gonna get.
Quest appeared on my other side, flanked by both his girlfriends; KiKi and Tionne. They’d been in a polyamorous situation for about two years now, and somehow Quest made it work. Both of them were bad as hell, and both of them knew their place in his world.
“You see this?” Quest gestured to the crowd below. “Uncle Levi took our investment and built something real here. And we about to do the same thing with the casino. Bigger. Better.”
“You really not gonna let this go, huh?” I said.
“Not even a little bit.” Quest grinned. “You family. You in this whether you like it or not.”
I was about to respond when something caught my eye on the floor below.
Her.
Farah.
My mentor, Rashid’s daughter, stumbling through the crowd, barely able to walk straight. She was drunk, sloppy drunk, leaning heavy on two niggas I didn’t recognize. Her dress was riding up, her heels dragging on the floor. One of the men had his arm around her waist, holding her up. The other one was whispering something in her ear.
My hand tightened around my glass.
Farah had been trying to get at me for years. I never bit. Couldn’t. Rashid was like a father to me, and Farah was his baby girl. But right now, watching her stumble through the club with two wolves holding her up, had me seeing red.
This dumb broad was about to get herself into some shit she couldn’t handle.
“Yo,” I said, cutting into whatever Quest was saying. “Y’all know who those niggas are with Farah?”
Quest followed my gaze, squinting through the lights. Justice looked too, his expression hardening.
“Nah,” Quest said. “Never seen them before.”
I watched as one of the men’s hand dropped lower on her waist. She could barely stand.
My vision went red at the edges.
“I gotta handle something,” I said, already moving toward the stairs.
Quest grabbed my arm. “Prime?—”
“I gotta handle something,” I repeated, my voice dropping to that tone that made people back up.
