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There was a deep heavy vibration that seemed to go through the seat and straight up my spine as the rotors started.

My stomach flipped as we lifted off and I grabbed his hand without thinking, squeezing it tight.

“You good?” he asked through the headset.

I looked down, realizing what I’d done. I quickly let go and put my hand back in my lap.

“Fine,” I said. “This is just different than flying in a plane.”

Manhattan from above was something else. The skyline was lit up, looking like something out of a movie. I leaned closer to the window to get a better view.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” he asked.

“It is,” I said, turning to him. He was watching me with this warm expression that I didn’t know what to do with.

Below us the suburbs thinned out. Forty-five minutes later, Baltimore’s skyline and harbor came into view.

We landed in a small airfield near BWI, where a black SUV was waiting for us.

“Oh you showing out tonight, huh?” I asked as we got in.

“Am I showing out, or you just never been with a nigga like me before?” he shot back.

It was a short drive into what I presumed to be downtown Baltimore. We were near the harbor, at a small upscale restaurant called Sable.

The host saw us and smiled. “Mr. Montague. It’s been too long—Chef has your usual table waiting for you.”

He led us to a quiet booth near the back of the restaurant, away from the other diners who were enjoying their meals over candlelight.

There were two printed menus on the table with the pre-fixed options and wine pairings.

“So…” I started. “You come here a lot?”

“When I’m in town. The owner’s a friend of mine from boarding school.”

My head jerked back slightly. “You? Boarding school?”

Cardez nodded. “For high school. My mom passed away when I was young, and it was easier for my father to send me away so he could focus on the business instead of raising his son.” He chuckled bitterly.

“Sheesh.” Was all I could say in response.

Our server appeared just then with our first course. It was a small dish of fried oysters with a drizzle of truffle oil, and two glasses of a fancy white wine I couldn’t pronounce.

“Chef has prepared a four-course tasting menu for the evening,” he said, placing the plates in front of us. “Each has been paired with a wine selected by our sommelier. Enjoy.”

He disappeared and I looked down at my plate as my phone vibrated in my purse. It was a text from Jody.

Jody: your boy is almost a billionaire. Between his portfolio, the properties, business ventures, and the other shit he’s into? At least $700 million.

My eyes widened as I shoved the phone back into my clutch. None of my other dudes had ever been worth that much. I’d hit the jackpot.

“Everything okay?” Cardez asked.

“Yeah,” I said as I went to take a sip of my wine. “My cousin just sent me some silly memes.”

The oysters were delicious, as was the oxtail soup that followed.

“So boarding school,” I said, circling back. “How was that? Being a Black kid from New York?”