Her fingertips gently skate across the green glass. “My mother told me I’d never make a living at it, and I’d be better off putting my efforts into finding a husband. She was probably right that I couldn’t make a living at it, but I wish I hadn’t packed up my paints quite so soon.” She retracts her hand and turns to face me. “I have a wall at the center that needs a mural, and I was going to commission someone to paint it for me. But this ... this makes me wonder if I still have any skills left to do it myself.”
“All you can do is try,” I say with an understanding smile. “I’m sure the kids would love to see your work.”
Her eyes light up. “They’re the most wonderful group of children I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Did I tell you we have a carnival Sunday afternoon? It’s open to the public ...”
I know what she’s getting at. She wants us to bring Bump, and I think it could be amazing for him. “I don’t think we’re busy. I’ll talk to Gabriel and Bump, and see if we can make it work.”
Meryl’s teeth flash pearlescent white as she beams at me. “Excellent. Now, time for me to shop.”
Nineteen
Legend
When the Escalade Creighton Karassent rolls to a stop in front of the building housing the Upper Ten, the driver climbs out of the front to come around and open my door, but I can manage myself. We meet on the sidewalk as I shut it behind me.
“I’ll show you up, Mr. Legend.”
“I can find it,” I tell him.
The suit-clad man produces what looks like a credit card from his breast pocket. “You’ll need this to access the top floor of the building. If you leave with it, it’ll be deactivated within hours.”
“I’ll leave it with Karas. Don’t worry, I won’t be in a hurry to come back. This isn’t exactly my scene,” I say, glancing down at the sweats I’ve shoved up around my calves and the running shoes on my feet.
“Understood, sir. I’ll be out here to return you to Legend once Mr. Karas is finished with you.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to worry about it, but my promise to Scarlett won’t let me.No taking unnecessary chances with my safety.
“Thanks.”
He inclines his head, but I’m already striding toward the doors. Inside, the building looks like it’s been restored to its glory days of the Roaring Twenties. It definitely gives the right vibe for a high-end cigar club that even I can appreciate, although cigars have never been my thing.
The keycard gets me up the elevator, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up when I hit the top floor.They’ve gotta be watching me.I don’t look for the telltale signs of security cameras, though. There’s no point. They’re definitely here.
The elevator lobby leads to two massive wooden doors. I haul one open and find myself in an entryway with a high ceiling and a fancy-looking clock in the corner. One wall is glass, and through it I can see the crown jewels of the Upper Ten—boxes upon boxes of cigars in a big glass room that must be temperature and humidity controlled. Rumor on the street is that they’ve got millions of dollars’ worth of tobacco in this place, which seems fucking crazy to me.To each their own.
A man who is built a hell of a lot like Bodhi Black stands between me and the next set of doors, which lead into the Upper Ten. I have to give him credit, though. His eyebrows don’t go up when he sees me wearing gym clothes.
“I’m here for a meeting with Creighton Karas.”
“Of course, Mr. Legend. Please come with me.”
Without introducing himself, he turns and pushes open the door, and I step into the hallowed halls of Cannon Freeman’s club. I didn’t expect to feel instantly jealous, but that doesn’t change facts. Anyone who runs a club like this knows what they’re doing and has his shit together. I can’t deny how nice that would feel.
Fucking hell. This place isswanky.
I try not to meet any of the curious eyes that lock on me as Team No-Neck leads me across carpet so soft that my shoes sink into it. It even smells expensive up here, like I shouldn’t be breathing the air. Something about its rich man’s old-world library atmosphere makes me feel even more out of place than my clothes.
I’m not built for this life, which is a real kick in the ass, because Scarlett is.I can’t give her this. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Except ... then I see Da Real Ting, a rapper who got his start on the streets slinging drugs, sitting at a table in the corner next to a guy in a sharp suit. Ting, wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, gives me a chin lift, and I feel oddly more at ease.
Maybe it doesn’t matter where you come from when you’re rich as hell and don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of you. Maybe then, you just know you belong, because no one can tell you to leave.I have no idea what that feels like, but I’m pretty sure I’d like to.
I return the rapper’s silent greeting and follow the big man from the entryway back to a hallway with heavy wooden doors every several feet. He stops in front of one and knocks.
“Enter,” a muted voice says from inside.
Instantly, I pull my shoulders back and stand tall and proud. I may be wearing forty-dollar sweatpants, but I’m not walking in with shit posture.