“Simple question. When’s the last time you looked at me and said, ‘Quest, how are you? How’s your day? What’s going on with you?’ When was the last time that happened?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. “I… I mean, I ask you stuff all the time.”
“You ask me stuff all the time. You’re right. You ask me if I can transfer money to your account. You ask me if I can get you into events. You ask me about flights and hotels and Fashion Week. You ask me about things that cost money. You have never, not once in the past six months, asked me a question that didn’t have a dollar sign attached to it.”
“That’s not fair?—”
“Our warehouse burned down two days ago.” I let that sit. Watched her face. “It’s been on the news and all over social medial. Which you spend all your time on. You’ve been gone for over a week and you walked through that door and talked for five straight minutes about Atlanta and not once—not one time—did you say, ‘Baby, I saw the news. Are you okay?’”
She was quiet. Which, for Lyric, was an event in itself.
“I didn’t… I didn’t know it was that serious.”
“You are so fuckin’ self-centered. And I’m tired of it.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying this shit ain’t working. Hasn’t been working for a while. You know it. I know it. We’re just going through the motions at this point. Ever since Camille left we been off.”
“Is that what this is about? Do you only want me if we are in a poly relationship? Am I not enough for you?”
“Nah, you’re not enough for me. And adding another woman ain’t gon fix that.”
“So what, you’re just throwing me away? After everything?”
“After what, exactly? Tell me what you’ve contributed to this relationship besides looking good and spending my money. And I say that with love because you do look good and you spend my money very well. Those are real skills. But I need a partner, and you have never been that.”
She stood up from the chair, snatched her Birkin off the floor, and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe. But right now the only thing I regret is not having this conversation six months ago.”
“I’m serious, Quest.” Her voice dropped to something lower, colder than I’d ever heard from her. “You don’t want to do this to me.”
I looked at her for a long moment. Tried to find a version of Lyric under all that glam and attitude that I’d actually miss, and came up empty. That was the saddest part. Not the breakup—the fact that I felt absolutely nothing about it.
“You can keep the penthouse,” I said. “I’ll sign the deed over to you.”
“Keep the—” She stopped herself. Recalculated. The penthouse was a prime piece of DC real estate and she knew it. “Fine.”
“I’ll have my things out by the weekend. And Lyric?” I stood, grabbed my phone and my keys from the desk. “Whatever threat you think you just made? I’d really encourage you to reconsider. You know what family you’re dealing with.”
She didn’t respond. Just stood there in her red bottoms and her honey-blonde locs with an expression that was somewhere between fury and the slow realization that her lifestyle had just changed dramatically.
I walked past her, grabbed my jacket from the closet by the door, and was halfway to the elevator when my phone buzzed. I had a text message.
It was an unknown number and I almost ignored it. But something made me look.
Unknown number:Hi Quest, this is Kacey. Thad’s girlfriend. I’m sorry to bother you but I really need help. Thad has been missing for months and nobody is giving me answers. You know that I got these two kids and I need help. I don’t know who else to reach out to. Can we talk in person soon? Please.
I pocketed the phone. Just one more problem on a list that was getting longer by the hour.
7
MEHAR
I sat on the concrete floor of the warehouse across from Thad’s cage with my back against the wall and my knees pulled up to my chest. The overhead bulb flickered the way it always did, casting everything in that sickly yellow light that made the whole unit feel like a horror movie set. Which, honestly, it was.
When I first trapped this nigga, it seemed like a bright idea. Prime helped me set it up, and was paying the rent, and I felt powerful for the first time in my life. A woman who had been caged by every man she’d ever loved finally putting a man in a cage of his own. It felt poetic, justified, and necessary.
