“He’s going to leave you too,” she said. “He leaves everyone.”
“Maybe. But he won’t be leaving me for you.”
I turned to wash my hands because my knuckles were stinging and I had blood on my ring. And that’s when we heard it.
BANG. BANG. BANG BANG BANG.
There were gunshots coming from the main floor. Multiple weapons, rapid succession, and then the screaming started. It was a wave of collective terror that sounded like nothing else on earth, hundreds of voices all reaching the same pitch of panic at the same time.
My gun was in my clutch. I had it out in two seconds, safety off, barrel up. Zainab’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t freeze because Zainab had survived worse than a shooting and her body knew what to do.
Zainab’s phone buzzed. She looked at it and her face changed.
“Prime says get out. Back exit. Now.”
I grabbed Zainab’s hand and we moved away from the main floor where the shots were still ringing out, away from the stampede of people crashing toward the front exits. We went toward the back of the casino, down the same corridor Quest had taken me through on Rita’s birthday, past the High Rollers Lounge where he’d laid me on a blackjack table, toward a service exit I’d clocked earlier because I always clocked exits.
Lyric was still on the bathroom floor. I didn’t look back at her.
We hit the service door and burst into the night air. The parking lot behind the casino was empty except for delivery trucks and staff vehicles. More shots from inside, muffled now by walls and distance. Sirens already wailing somewhere close.
“Where’s your car?” I asked Zainab.
“East side of the lot. Silver Acura.”
“Give me the keys. I’m driving.”
She handed them over without argument. We ran to the car, I started the engine, and I pulled out of the lot and onto the street and drove away from the casino with my gun in my lap and my sister in the passenger seat and the sound of gunfire fading behind us.
41
QUEST
I was shaking hands with the acting mayor and smiling like my whole world hadn’t been flipped inside out seventy-two hours ago. I was still in disbelief that my mother would do some shit like that. Keeping that big of a secret all these years. She knew that man was my pops while he was on his deathbed. I was angry and confused. I wanted to wring her neck. Iwouldwring her fuckin’ neck.
“Incredible venue, Quest. You and your brothers should be very proud,” the mayor said to me as he looked around the room.
“We appreciate the support. Banks Reserve has always been committed to investing in DC.” Corporate autopilot. I could do this shit in my sleep. Probably was doing it in my sleep because I hadn’t really been awake since that courier opened that envelope and read a dead man’s name and told me my whole life was a lie.
Rashid Muhammad. Every time I thought about it, my jaw would tighten, something behind my eyes would go hot, and I’d have to redirect the energy into something that wasn’t putting my fist through a wall. Tonight I was redirecting it into handshakes and champagne toasts and small talk about zoning permits and tax incentives while the city’s elite walked througha casino I’d built on top of a foundation that apparently wasn’t even mine to build on.
Alexander Banks wasn’t my father. And I was standing in a building with his name on it, pretending that information hadn’t rewired everything I understood about myself.
Prime found me at the bar about an hour in. Justice was behind him. They flanked me, and I could tell by their energy that they were about to ask me about it.
“How you holding up?” Prime asked, keeping his voice low.
“This ain’t the place.”
“I know it ain’t the place. But you’re hidin’ from us.”
“I’m pissed. I’m processing. And I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“Rita’s been calling you,” Justice said.
“I know.”
“She’s worried.”
