I sat in the private section of Cygne Noir Lounge, one of the Belviors’ signature establishments. The bass thumped low and heavy, strong enough to make the glasses on the table tremble. Being there usually settled something in me, but that night, even the familiar surroundings couldn’t calm my mind.
The lounge didn’t simply look like it belonged to the Belviors, it felt like us. Black and gold bled through every inch of the place, while low lighting glinted off polished marble floors, velvet seating, and bottles that cost more than most people’s monthly mortgage payments. Everything about Cygne Noir whispered wealth, exclusivity, and danger… just like the family behind it.
Across from me sat Knox, my right-hand man. He wasn’t blood but closer than most who shared my last name. I pulled him out of the streets and put him on to the business years ago. Knox handled the cleanups, and the quiet threats. He was ruthless like me, just more level-headed.
“You look like hell,” he noted, sipping his drink.
“I feel worse,” I admitted.
Knox pointed at my glass. “That’s your fourth drink, which means you stress-drinking again.”
“Business stress,” I corrected.
He gave me a look. “You sure it ain’t nothing else?”
I frowned. “Something else like what?”
“Shit… a woman, maybe.” A half-smirk pulled at his mouth.
I stared at Knox like he’d just volunteered to be slapped. “A woman? Why the hell would I be stressing over a bitch?”
“Because lately, you keep collecting them like reward points.”
“I don’t collect women.”
“Nigga, yes, you do. You got one calling your phone like she your parole officer, another one probably waiting on a ‘you up?’ text, and I’m willing to bet there’s at least two more who think they the only one.”
I took another sip. “That sounds like their lack of communication, not my problem.”
He shook his head. “One day, some woman gon’ have you checking yo’ phone every five minutes, buying flowers, and apologizing for your tone.”
“Knox, women keep me entertained. That’s it. I’d trust gas-station sushi sitting under a heat lamp in July before I trusted one with my peace of mind. And the day I start losing sleep over a woman is the same day my bank account sits me down and tells me it expected better.”
Knox barked out a laugh.
“Real talk. I’m not tossing and turning trying to determine why a woman viewed my story but ignored my message or why her goodnight text went from three kissing emojis to a damn thumbs-up. I’m not pacing the room because some woman sent me to voicemail and decided to disappear for the rest of the night. And I’m damn sure not stressing because some woman canceled plans, got vague about where she was going, and expected me to care enough to ask twice. Business, on the other hand? That’ll keep me awake all damn night. If I’m staring at the ceiling at three in the morning, it’s because money moving funny, somebody under me forgot their position, or a shipment took a detour without permission. Anything that ain’t making me money can wait until business hours.”
“Women don’t have business hours,” he joked.
“Mine do.” I let a few seconds pass before confessing, “But nah, Pops been on my ass again about finding a wife and having a kid. You know the speech.”
Knox nodded, knowingly. “Yeah. But what is the hold up with that, though? With all the hoes you got, nigga yo’ ass gotplentyof options at yo’ fingertips. Choose one of them. Problem solved.”
“Keyword…hoes.Knox, half of ’em don’t even want my ass for real; they just like the lifestyle.”
“What about that Zonnique chick? She’s… something.”
Damn. Out of all the woman on my roster, Zonnique is the one everybody keeps trying to put on a fuckin’ pedestal.
Is she fine? Hell yeah.
But the other women are too… at least I thought they were. Now everybody got me questioning whether I’ve been fucking in poor lighting.
Maybe Zonnique stood out because she made herself known more than the others. The rest of the women understood how to enjoy the dick benefits, minded their business, and quietly returned to their own lives. In simpler terms, they knew their place. Zonnique, on the other hand, kept trying to redecorate hers.
I scoffed. “Nigga, you sound like Pops. But yeah, she’ssomethingalright—something bougie, something dramatic, and something I should’ve left where the hell I found her ass. But yeah,noneof them hoes are built for this life or worthy of rocking my last name,especiallyZonnique. I can’t trust her with a secret, let alone a legacy.”
Knox chuckled. “You wanna know what yo’ problem is? You keep picking women who look good in drama. You seem to like pretty problems, bruh.”
