Page 71 of Vega

I pushed away from the wall and stormed past him. My bare feet struck the floor hard enough to hurt, but I welcomed the pain. It was easier to understand than the part of me that had wanted him to stay close.

PRODIGY MORETTI

That Saturday was my grandmother’s eightieth birthday party. It looked more like a wedding reception than a birthday party, though. It was in the ballroom of a private country club outside the city. The room was filled with white roses, gold table settings, and enough crystal to make every surface sparkle. A string quartet played elegant renditions of old-school R&B songs near the entrance. Servers moved through the room with champagne, and a five-tier cake sat beneath a wall of flowers displaying the number eighty in lights.

My cousins and I had created the Street Kings organization to get money that we never had. Our parents had ensured we were comfortable, but we never had the residual income to flex. But once my mother married my stepfather, my mother and grandparents’ financial status changed for the better. My grandfather had earned his money through trucking contracts and investments, but Marcus had helped him reach another level after marrying my mother. He connected him with better contracts, introduced him to people with money and influence, and helped turn several struggling ventures into profitable businesses. Between my grandfather’s success and Marcus’s construction companies and property holdings, and the Street Kings’ success, my mother wanted for nothing.

Marcus stood near the head table with one hand resting at the bottom of my mother’s back as they greeted relatives. My mother looked beautiful in a fitted emerald gown, laughing as Marcus whispered something near her ear.

Marcus caught me watching and lifted his chin.

I returned the gesture.

I respected the hell out of Marcus for helping raise me. He attended games, handled problems, and gave advice whether I requested it or not. I loved and respected him, but still, he wasn’t Renzo. No amount of money, time, or effort could erase my need to know what the hell happened to my real father.

Knox stood beside me near the bar, watching one of my younger cousins attempt to flirt with a server twice his age.

“That boy has confidence,” he said.

“That boy is a clown.”

Knox shrugged. “Sometimes laughter gets the panties off just as fast as money does.”

I glanced toward Knox, and he got serious. “How you been holding up with the Arielle shit?”

I took a sip of my drink and lied, “I’m good.”

He tilted his head, looking at me. “You’re not good.”

“I will be. I just need to get over her.”

“If it’s so hard for you to get over her, why didn’t you do what you had to do to keep her?”

I shrugged. “Dumb, I guess. I didn’t even realize I wanted her to stay, until she was gone.”

“You ever think you’re focusing on Renzo because you can’t fix what happened with Arielle?”

“Hell no. I’ve been trying to find him since before Arielle dipped.”

“Yea, but you’ve been overly focused since she left. Kinda obsessed.”

I looked at him with a raised brow. “You a therapist now?

Wise approached before Knox could respond, and the anger on his face saved me from a conversation I didn’t want to finish.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

Wise took the drink from my hand and swallowed half of it. “I noticed I hadn’t heard from Tasha in a minute, so I pulled up on her. She told me Rain warned her that I was seeing other women and emotionally unavailable.”

“How do they even know each other?”

“They went to college together. I met Tasha when I was at some party with Bishop and Milan.”

“Was Rain lying?” I asked, fucking with him.

“That isn’t the point.”

“That means no,” Knox laughed.