“For real. I’m flying her to Sedona. She told me she wanted to see the Red rocks, and those sunsets, the whole thing. I already got the ring. Custom from a jeweler in New York. Seven-carat round brilliant, platinum band, with a hidden inscription inside that says ‘Peach.’ If she says no I’m throwing myself off the rocks.”
“She ain’t saying no, bro.” Prime walked around the table and pulled me into a hug that I didn’t ask for but didn’t fight either. “I’m happy for you. You deserve this.”
“About damn time,” Justice said, dapping me up. “I was starting to think you were gonna be the last bachelor standing. How much the ring set you back?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
“I’m the CFO. I need to know everything.”
“You’re the CFO of Banks Reserve. My personal finances ain’t on the balance sheet. Stay in your lane.”
“That means it was expensive,” Prime laughed.
“It was appropriate. My woman deserves the best. Full stop.”
We played a few more rounds and talked about everything and nothing. It was good to catch up with them. We’d all been through a lot these last few months. The casino was making money again. Opening weekend had been strong and the numbers were trending up every week. The liquor business had bounced back. Banks Reserve was moving product at pre-fire levels and the new marketing push Mehar had helped with, connecting the brand to a younger demographic, was actually working. Justice said Q4 projections looked better than anything we’d seen in two years.
“Serenity’s baby is healthy,” I said between shots. “Doctor says everything looks good despite the early exposure. She’s due in about six months.”
“That’s good,” Prime said. “She’s been through enough. She deserves some peace.”
“Camille had hers too. A boy.”
“That your baby?” Justice asked, because Justice asked the questions everybody was thinking but nobody wanted to say.
“Fuck no. I got that test ASAP. I already knew the results and of course that wasn’t my fuckin’ kid. Lyin’ bitch. But I got other shit on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“Like Freetown.”
Both of them looked up. We hadn’t talked about Freetown since before the casino shooting. It was supposed to be the next phase. Casino generates revenue, revenue funds the development, development builds the legacy. That was always the play. But the plan was designed with Mekhi and Zephyr leading the build and that reality had shifted.
“You still thinking about that?” Justice asked.
“I never stopped thinking about it. The casino is funded. The revenue is flowing. We got the capital to start acquiring land. The question is who leads the development side now that Mekhi and I are…” I searched for the right word. “Reconfigured.”
“You could bring in an outside firm,” Justice said.
“Nah. Freetown is a family project. It stays in-house. I’ll figure it out.”
“We could do it. And maybe bring in the Kings. They got the capital,” Prime suggested.
“Yeah, you right. I’ll set up a meeting with them next week. Well, after the proposal.”
“Good thinkin’,” Justice shot back.
We finished the game. I won because I always won. Justice blamed it on distractions and Prime blamed it on the whiskey and I told them both they were trash and we laughed and it felt normal for the first time in months. Three brothers in a basement talking shit over pool and Banks Reserve celebrating life but always prepared for the next battle.
I racked the balls for another game and thought about Sedona. About the ring in the safe upstairs. About Mehar’s face when I ask her. I couldn’t wait to see her pretty smile. About the house we were going to pick out together this weekend. About Freetown and what it could become. About the babies we weregoing to have and the life we were going to build and every single piece of the future that was finally starting to feel like mine.
And then I thought about Vivica. Her trial was coming up in three weeks. Darnell had sent me her schedule, her visitor logs, the names of everybody who’d come to see her in the last ninety days. I had what I needed. My mother was the last item on a list that I’d been checking off since this whole thing started. Mega, done. Rios, done. Janelle, handled. Mekhi, truce. Serenity, safe.
Vivica was the last box. And I was going to check it.
“Rack’em up, nigga. I got next,” Prime said.
“You got next to lose,” I said.
