But, unfortunately, Chadwick isn’t as smart as I thought. His face twists into a sneer as he continues backing away.
“You think she’s some hot piece of ass you’re going to score with? Not even close. And trust me, she and I aren’t done. She’ll do whatever it takes to make her dad happy, and I’m his fucking favorite. So go ahead and fuck her. You’ll be sending her back to me with a fucking bow on her head, because you won’t be able to get rid of her fast enough. I’ll only make her pay for fucking a piece of trash like you for the first few years we’re married. Hope it’s worth it. Because then, I’m going to take everything else that matters from you. This club? Gone. Your friends?” He looks at Q. “Prison. And then maybe you’ll learn your lesson about not touching what doesn’t belong to you.”
He spins around, almost losing his balance, and stalks off down the street, still holding his neck.
Q steps up beside me. “I don’t like that fucker, and I’m sure as hell not going to prison.”
I glance back at the line, relieved that everyone seems focused on our doorman opening the rope to let another group in. Given the crowd and their rising voices, I think it’s safe to assume they didn’t hear what Captain Dickwad had to say.
“Keep an eye on him,” I tell Q.
“He’s all talk, boss,” Peter adds as LaSalle turns the corner and disappears into the night. “Rich fucks like him make threats, but they never carry through.”
“I guess we’ll find out. And if he makes a move, we deal with it then.”
“I don’t like it,” Q says, snapping his lapels straight. “He should walk the fuck away. He just got dumped, publicly, and apparently twice. So, why does he keep coming back after he’s burned that bridge? It doesn’t make sense. There’s gotta be something else going on here.”
“He mentioned her dad. Do some digging and see what you can find out. Just so we know what we’re dealing with,” I say to Q and then turn to Peter, shaking his hand. “Thanks, man. You did the right thing. You see him again, call me or Q.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
Q and I march through the doors of the club, and by tacit agreement, we head for my office. As soon as the door is closed, he leans against it with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Please tell me you’ll stay away from her.” When I don’t answer immediately, he pushes off the door and stalks toward me. “You can’t have her, Gabriel. We both know it.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,Marcus.”
My best friend stops before me, and we lock eyes. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never looked at a woman like you look at her. And then I fucking saw you dancing with her.I didn’t even know you could dance, Gabe.What the fuck is going on? You won’t take a single woman on a date for fifteen years, and now you’re out there making moves on the dance floor, trying to impress some socialite with more money than God?This isn’t you.”
I don’t need Q telling me any of this. I know what I did. How it would look. I just don’t care.And she’s still out there.
“Please tell me this is temporary fucking insanity, Gabe.”
I round my desk and drop into the chair. “There’s something about her.”
“No. For fuck’s sake. Don’t say that. I thought you understood who she was. I hate to agree with that piece of shit out on the sidewalk about anything, but she’s not just out of your league, man. She exists on another fucking social stratosphere. I bet she has Beyoncé’s personal number. That’s her crowd. The rich and famous.”
He pauses to take a breath and then keeps going, like I don’t understand the point he’s trying to make.
“I give you mad respect for what you’ve done. You showed up in Jersey with nothing. You busted your ass and took a beating to make money. Then you started giving the beatings for even bigger money. Now you’re trying to make good on a promise to Jorie. I know you’re still trying to be the guy she knew you could be so you can have the life Jorie wanted. Like I said, I respect the fuck out of you for that, Gabe. But don’t think for one second that means there’s a chance in hell you belong with a woman like Scarlett Priest. We’re talking about two different fucking worlds here, man.”
As soon as he says Jorie’s name, I’ve had enough. I shoot to my feet and plant my knuckles on my desk hard enough to damn near leave dents in the wood.
“You’re my best friend, and other than Bump, the closest thing I’ve got to a brother. That is the only reason I’m not coming at you right now for the shit you said. You know me, but you arenotme. I don’t take orders from anyone, Q, and I’m not about to start.”
My best friend spins, smoothing his hands over his jet-black hair. “Fuck me, you’re already in too deep.”
My jaw slides from side to side in the same way it would before a fight. “I’m not inshit, brother. I’m assessing the situation. And that was the one and only time you’ll throw Jorie in my face. You got that?”
“What about Jorie?” Bump comes in the door with Roux on a leash at his side. “I miss her. She made the best peanut butter cookies. I miss those too. Can we get peanut butter cookies on the way home?”
Roux tugs the leash from Bump’s grip and comes toward me as Q replies, “Sure, bud. One of us will stop at the corner store and get some cookies on the way home.”
I shove my chair back and squat down to give Roux ear scratches and a few good butt pats as the image of a woman who looks only the tiniest bit like Bump forms in my mind. She’s not as vivid as she used to be. It’s more like an old photograph fading with every passing day. I can’t see her smile anymore, only the vague outline of her features.
Jorie Billips, the prettiest girl in Biloxi, Mississippi. The woman who taught me what it was to have a dream and go after it. The woman who died because of who she was to me, and Bump took a bullet for it too.
Regret and guilt fill me in equal measure, threatening to swallow me up like they did when I wasn’t sure if I could get Bump and me out of Biloxi alive.