Page 4 of The Need to Know

“Friday is a big day,” Pops said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Yes,” I agreed, extra hopeful on it officially being Chaining Day. “It is.”

Pops bobbed his head, eyeing me seriously. “Your mother and I’ve been talking, and we’d like for you to come over Friday. We’ll have a little dinner at the house to celebrate. You can have the night off and just enjoy yourself. I’m sure Cesar can hold down the fort for the evening.”

I blinked, unsure I’d heard him correctly. “That’s it?”

Pops perked a brow, angling his head. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re just giving me the night off?” Maybe he’d sign the papers at the house, make it more intimate and ceremonious that way.

“What more do you want, Eazy?” He chuckled as he called me his childhood nickname for me. “What don’t you have?”

The keys to the castle.

I sank in my seat, unable to keep a clear face. “I mean, it’d be nice to own the club for my birthday.”

Quickly, he lost his smile as he sat up. “Oh.”

Nah, not “oh.” This shouldn’t have been a surprise to him. I’d been working hard for almost seven years for him.

“Yeah,” I pressed further. “I mean, I practically run it already with Cease.”

Pops smirked and grabbed his tea again. “ ‘Practically.’ ”

He could not be serious. “Pops.”

He met my eyes. “I hear you, I do, but there’s a lot to consider. Your lifestyle for one.”

“What about it?” I argued.

Families and couples around us were eating merrily, having a blissful breakfast while I waged against my father for what was rightfully mine.

He fingered the condensation on his glass, heaving a sigh. “The women.”

A laugh rolled off my breath as I released a pained smile. “What about ’em?”

He met my gaze once more. “That’s what concerns me. You’d rather be in between some thighs than focus on what’s important.”

“I like money more than I like sex, and that ain’t ever gonna change,” I stated.

I never brought women home to meet my parents. In the past, in my early twenties, I had attempted a couple of relationships that my parents did meet and had liked, but me being me, neither had worked out. Unlike my father, I didn’t do faithful well. Even with the current way I lived, I had everything in check—save for one almost ruined wall in my crib.

Maybe a couple of women had come by the club to find me, but even then, it was never out of control or a bad situation.

For some men, pussy was their weakness, for me, it was a perk, a bonus—something I could go with or without. Now, money, power, and respect? Those were what I truly craved and coveted. You could get pussy anywhere, those other three, not so much. Thirty before thirty, that was the goal. At least, metaphorically. To be so accomplished before the big three-o, that was the motto.

I focused on the thick gold ring on my middle finger as I twisted it to distract myself from my raging disappointment.

I was tempted to throw a tantrum and walk out, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere.

I did everything he asked me to. I went to school and got a degree in business. I showed up on time and stayed behind. I thought ahead and studied the competition—I earned BLVCKJVCK. It was more mine in theory, than it was his on paper.

Without me, the business would’ve failed. I rebranded the club from a dying spot called Lounge and made it what it was. I created the new name, the central theme, the nights dedicated to old R&B, the atmosphere of a strictly Black staff. I made sure our female employees were always safe, and any time a male customer made them uncomfortable I had them banned for life. At the root of the club, I designed it all, from name, to the color scheme, and the furniture and setup.

Everything was dipped in matte black and gold. BLVCKJVCK itself was divided into four areas dedicated to playing card suits, the forefront, or main floor: the Club Suite where you drank from the bar, danced, or sat back at one of the tables or booths bordering the walls. At the back of the club: the Heart Suite, an area many walked to with pride or on the sneak. An area hosting a hall of only six rooms for privacy. What went down in them was up to the patrons. The second level of the building: the Diamond Suite, where the VIP lounge was stashed away for celebrity guests or exclusive people who paid the extra price to get a pass. The enclosed rooftop deck: the Spade Suite, for those who wanted to get away and enjoy a night view alongside fire pits.

Pops had wrinkled his nose at the idea of condom dispensers in the restrooms, but I lived in reality, and whether or not people fucked at our club, safe sex was a message that never went out of style. I’d walked into the public men’s restroom and seen so many women or men getting their tonsils spray-painted in a stall, I knew what was up.