QUEST
Kacey called while I was at the hotel getting dressed and I already knew from the energy in her voice that this conversation was about to ruin my evening.
“I got into his Apple ID,” she said, wired and amped like she’d been up all night on some detective shit. “I paid somebody. A forensic data recovery guy. He cracked the iCloud backup and pulled the messages.”
I set my cufflinks down and sat on the edge of the bed. Here we go.
“There’s texts to someone named Mehar. A lot of them. Going back months before he disappeared.” She paused. “Do you know her?”
My jaw tightened but my voice didn’t. I’d been lying about Thad for six months and at this point it was second nature. Like breathing. Like adjusting my cufflinks. Like pretending everything was under control when the walls were closing in from six different directions.
“Yeah, I know who she is. She’s connected to the family through my brother’s wife. But whatever she and Thad had wasn’t serious, Kace. She’s just a young girl. She ain’t got it in her to take down Thad.”
“You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“Does she have a brother? Someone who might’ve wanted to do something about how Thad treated her?”
“Not that I know of.” Lie number two hundred and something. I’d lost count at this point. “Listen, Thad had a lot of real enemies. Niggas he owed money to, niggas he crossed, niggas from back in the day who had beef. If you want answers, start there.”
“I will,” she said. And the way she said it told me Kacey wasn’t about to let this go. She had Mehar’s name now. She had the texts. And Kacey was smarter than anybody gave her credit for. She was gonna pull on that thread until the whole sweater came apart.
I hung up and stared at my phone. This was getting tight. Way too tight.
But I had somewhere to be. And for the first time in a long time, the place I was going had nothing to do with business and everything to do with a woman who made me feel like I was eighteen again and discovering that the world had colors I’d been ignoring.
I texted Mehar.
Me:Hey. Got tied up with work tonight. Rain check on the call about Serenity? How about we link up tomorrow night instead. I want to see you.
Three dots. Then:
Mehar:Fine. But we’re talking about your sister.
Me:We will. I’ll pick you up at 8.
Mehar:I can drive myself.
Me:I’ll be there at 8.
Long pause.
Mehar:8 is fine.
I smiled at my phone. Actually smiled. Like a whole cornball. Then I put it face down because Quest Banks does not sit in hotel rooms grinning at text messages like a nigga who just got his first number at homecoming.
Next nightI pulled up to her building at eight on the dot. There was something about being around her that got me excited in a way no woman had in years. I didn’t know why. The girl was mean as hell. But that was something I looked forward to breaking down. Getting beyond her tough exterior.
I tried to fight the way I felt about her because I had too much shit on my plate. But fuck that. I wanted her.
She popped out in a fitted black dress, that hugged her curves. Gold jewelry catching the streetlight at every angle. Heels that turned her legs into a whole situation. Box braids down around her back instead of pulled up, and she’d done her makeup in a way that made her eyes look like they could see through walls and into whatever bullshit you were trying to hide. Her lips were painted red and her mahogany skin had a sheen to it that caught the light just like the gold.
“You look good,” I said when she got in the car. Understatement of the century but I wasn’t about to give her the full reaction because this woman would use it against me.
“I know.”
I laughed. “No ‘thank you’?”
