Page 9 of The Fire We Make

“I know and I appreciate you. I’m just trying to… to navigate this the best way I can. I want to be normal, I do. I’m just trying to find a way to get there that doesn’t make me feel completely like a fish out of water.”

“Well, you’re doing good bookie.”

“Thanks,” Joy smiled weakly. After a few beats, she spoke again. “I got the job.”

Mel’s face lit up and her squeal made Joy’s ears ring. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!”

She wrapped Joy in a tight hug that Joy normally would have evaded but she allowed it. This would have to make up for the way she’d snapped earlier.

“We should go out and celebrate!”

Joy groaned. “No.”

“Yes!” Mel grabbed Joy’s shoulders and shook her slightly. “This is a good thing. We celebrate good things in this household. Tomorrow night, we’re going to dinner.”

Joy didn’t bother arguing, her cousin’s mind was made up and Mel was as stubborn as the day was long.

Mel picked up her discarded belongings from the door and set off in the direction of her bedroom. She paused at the foot of the stairs and turned back to Joy.

“I really am proud of you Jo,” she said. “You had a rough time when you first got here but the bounce back is about to be crazy. I can feel it.”

Joy smiled at that. “Me too.”

Chapter Two

The sound of Ace’s crocodile shoes slapping against the marble floors did nothing to drown out the roaring in his ears, the voice in his head begging for blood.

He stormed past the host without a word, his mind only barely registering his youngest brother, Von falling in step to his left and his head of security, Ray, to his right. His pulse thrummed and his blood sang with anticipation. His fingers flexed as he awaited the opportunity to get his hands on the nigga who decided playing with his family’s money was a smart thing to do. Ace was there to dispel that misinformed notion.

He hardly ever handled these things personally anymore but every once in a while, a point needed to be made.

This was one of those times.

Von spoke with one of the waitresses who guided them in the direction of the private section of the lounge where Tyrell and his crew could be found.

The rising businessman had taken out a loan from the Kings and defaulted on his payments three times now, warranting a visit from Ace.

Tyrell sat in a VIP section with a waitress perched on his lap. He smiled broadly as the woman poured expensive champagne into his glass, then the outstretched glasses of his associates.

Ace heard Ray chuckle beside him. He was sure his anger rolled off him in waves and his friend knew that he was about to be on one. Wordlessly, they made their way to the section. Before they even made it to the velvet rope closing it off, Tyrell noticed their approach and froze.

Ace smiled. It was a wicked smile. A sinister smile. A smile that told Tyrell that he should listen to that uneasy feeling in his gut warning him of danger.

Instead of unlatching the rope, Ace tipped the metal rods holding it up over, sending them crashing to the floor with a loud clang that drew the attention of nearby patrons.

Seeing who was making the commotion, they all averted their gazes. Not everyone knew how deep the King influence ran or how dark their roots were, but most knew that Ace and his family ran New York and it was best to mind your business where they were concerned.

“What are we celebrating?” Ace boomed with a fake jovial tone over the soft music playing throughout the dining area. He snatched the champagne glass from Tyrell and sat on the chair across from him, kicking his feet up on the table that divided them. Von pulled up a chair and wedged himself in between two of Tyrell’s men and Ray stood at the entrance of the section, posted up like a sentry.

Ace cut his eyes to the waitress who looked on with concern. Wordlessly, he tipped his head in the direction he’d just come from. Understanding his silent demand, she stood quickly and scurried to the exit without question. Ray stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm and handed her a knot of cash for her trouble and silence.

Ace turned his attention back to Tyrell whose light skin had visibly paled. He took a sip of the champagne and nodded in approval as the taste greeted his tongue. He picked up the bottle the young lady had left behind and took a photo for future reference.

“Motherfucka’ has good taste,” he remarked to Von. “This bitch smooth.”

Von raised a brow. “Word? Aye pour me a glass,” he instructed the man closest to him, nudging him with the barrel of his gun. Shakily, the man took the bottle from Ace and poured a shallow glass. Von’s entire face screwed up.

“The fuck is you rationing for my nigga? Y’all paid for this shit with our money anyway. Pour me up, before you piss me off,” he barked. The man jumped and did as he was told, pouring more of the expensive champagne into Von’s glass.