A few people pause and watch my spectacle, but I don’t care. I smile at all of them before practically skipping to the curb to hail a cab.
I text Amy to reschedule the designer and let her know I’m going off the schedule today, because I’munstoppable and single.
Her reply is exactly what I need to read.
Amy: Praise Jesus!!! We’ll hold down the fort. Go have some you-time. Just don’t forget about self-defense at 4.
I tuck that reminder away as I give the cabbie the address of Legend. It’s time to scope out the scene of the comeback I’m staging in less than thirty-six hours.
And that wave of heat I feel? I’m not going to think about that ... yet.
Twenty-One
Legend
“How much?” I ask from between gritted teeth, hating that I’m even entertaining the possibility of a fight with Bodhi Black.
And yet, my self-preservation instincts won’t let me stay silent.
I’ve never given up without a fight, and this won’t be the first time. There’s no fucking way I’m going to let my investors come in here and take everything I’ve worked for my entire life without doing every goddamned thing I can to dig myself out of this hole.
“You know I can’t give you exact numbers, man,” Rolo says with a hint of greed leaching into his tone. “Depends on the crowd. The venue.”
“Bullshit, Rolo. Give me a number, or I hang up.”
“Jeez, man. When’d you get so fucking serious? I miss my old buddy Legend who knew how to have a good time.”
“You mean the one who made us both tons of money? The same guy you’ve been begging to take this fight, and now you’re hesitating? What the fuck is going on?”
My fingers curl around the arm of my chair as I wait for Rolo to shoot straight with me, something he’s always done. But, now, for the first time ever, he’s giving me the runaround, and I think I know why.
Like any shark, he smells blood in the water.
If Rolo knows the fight is the last option to save my ass, then he’s going to use that leverage to take a bigger cut of the cash that should be going into my pocket. After all, I’m the one taking all the fucking risk on this deal. He doesn’t have to stand inside a cage and face a man who might as well have sledgehammers for fists. Oh, and a man who is determined to redeem himself from defeat, at the cost of my life, if necessary.
“You know how it goes. Business is business. Let me talk to Black’s people and a few venues and—”
I end the call without listening to the rest of whatever garbage Rolo is about to feed me. He’s not stupid. He knows I know what he’s doing. I also won’t let him fuck me over just because he thinks he’s got the upper hand.
Not fucking happening.I lean back in my chair and scrub my hands over my face and hair. This isn’t how things were supposed to be. But they never are.
I don’t plan to fail. But,fuck, I’ve done a bang-up job this time. I try to focus on my spreadsheet again—the one that shows a shit ton of numbers in red that our accountant sent over earlier attached to an email that read:
Make some fucking money this weekend or close the doors Sunday. For good.
The spreadsheet and the email pushed me into calling Rolo, because I can’t stand by and do nothing while this club dies a slow death, and takes me and everyone I care about down with it.
But my concentration only lasts for a few minutes before Bump comes bursting into my office, letting the door smack on the opposite wall.
“It’s her. Here.”
My first instinct is to reach for a gun because he’s flailing his arms and shouting shit I can’t understand, but then his wheezing words penetrate.
“She’s here.”
There’s only oneshein my brain lately, as much as I wish I could deny the fact.
“Who?” I ask carefully, shutting my laptop. It’s fair to say I’m not in a good mood.