“We’re straight,” Justice responded, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed. “Everyone has to be vetted. Guest list only. No walk-ins on opening night. I’ve got three layers of security—front door, floor, and VIP. Nobody gets in without being on the list and nobody gets close to us without being checked.”
“Good.” I sank the seven ball in the corner pocket. Smooth.
“You heard from Rios?” Justice asked.
“After that nigga tried to ask for a piece of the pie? Fuck no. I had that cash delivered to him the next day. Two point three million plus ten percent. His ass needs to be satisfied with that and get the fuck on.”
“What if he’s not satisfied?” Mekhi asked from the couch, toothpick between his teeth.
“Then he can take it up with my lawyer. Or my pistol. Either way, he’s not getting a seat at our table.” I chalked the cue and lined up the next shot. “The casino has three names on it—Banks, Banks, and Banks. That’s how it started and that’s how it stays.”
“Yeah this shit is for us, by us,” Zephyr said, raising his glass.
And he was right. Zephyr and Mekhi were family in every way that mattered except blood. We’d come up together, gotten our hands dirty together, and pulled Banks Reserve out of a hole so deep that most companies would’ve declared bankruptcy and called it a day. They were part of the reason I was able to save my family’s legacy twenty years ago, and I never forgot that.
But that legacy was on the line again. Not because of predatory loans or my father’s debts this time. It was because liquor sales in general were down. Nationwide. People were drinking less, choosing weed over whiskey, and plenty of spirit companies were struggling. We weren’t struggling yet, but the warehouse fire hadn’t done us any favors. Insurance was still dragging their feet, product was destroyed, and the revenue dip was starting to show up in the quarterly reports.
The casino was supposed to fix that. A new revenue stream. Clean money. Legitimate growth. But I’d been thinking bigger than that.
“We gotta get this casino rolling and then pivot,” I said, sinking another ball. “I’ve been thinking about real estate. Not just investing—building. I’ve got a vision for something.”
“What you talkin’ about?” Prime asked, picking up his drink from the edge of the table.
“A community. A whole development. Black-owned, Black-built, Black-occupied. I’m talking residential, commercial, retail—a full ecosystem. Houses, apartments, a school, a grocerystore, restaurants, a community center. Everything. A place where Black families can own property, build wealth, and not get pushed out by gentrification in ten years.”
The room was quiet for a second. Not skeptical quiet. Thinking quiet.
“Where?” Mekhi asked, leaning forward.
“I’ve been looking at some land outside the city. Close enough to commute but far enough that the prices aren’t insane yet. We buy the land, develop it ourselves, control every aspect of it from the ground up. We name it. We own it. We build it into something that outlasts all of us.”
“You got a name for it?” Zephyr asked.
“Freetown.”
Mekhi nodded slowly. “Freetown. I fuck with that heavy.”
“That’s ambitious as hell,” Justice said, but he had that look on his face that he got when the numbers were already running in his head. “We’d need significant capital. Development permits. Zoning approvals. Environmental impact studies. We’re talking years of work.”
“I know. That’s why the casino has to hit first. It generates the revenue. The revenue funds the development. And the development builds the legacy.” I looked around the room at these four men who had been in the trenches with me since we were teenagers. “Banks Reserve saved the family. The casino saves the company. Freetown saves the community. That’s the play.”
“The American dream built on the American hustle,” Prime said with a grin.
“Something like that.”
“Aight, I’m in,” Mekhi said. “But I want to be hands-on with the development side. Real estate is my thing.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. You and Zephyr lead the build. Justice handles the finances. Prime and I handle the politics and the protection.”
“Protection from who?” Prime asked.
“From everybody who’s going to try to stop five Black men from building a city. Trust me, they’ll come.”
The room settled into that energy that only existed between the five of us—the understanding that what we were planning was bigger than money, bigger than business, and probably dangerous enough to get all of us killed if the wrong people felt threatened by it.
Zephyr broke the silence. “Yo, I gotta ask.” He was grinning. “Did you really throw your sister in the trunk and drive her to rehab?”
Justice and I looked at each other. Justice’s mouth twitched. Mine did too.
