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Prez sighs, massaging his temples as they continue to bicker.
“Hey. Bianca could work some of her witchy woo magic and sage the room,” I suggest, and Prez looks at me like he wants to snap my neck.
“Does anyone have anything meaningful to add to the fucking conversation?”
“We should sell it. Place is bleeding us dry and a headache,” East warns him. “We can reinvest the money in something more profitable and less stressful. Do we know who the buyer is?”
“The city. The Historical Society, to be exact. They want to use it as a museum or some shit and offer tours.”
“Too bad we can’t afford to donate it to the city and win us some good favor.”
“Give it to Lily. She can rent it from the club to house her operations,” Slick says and launches into a long spiel that tells us all he’s gave this thought. “We can launder club funds under the guise of charity while funneling money back in for a good cause.”
Murder smiles. “All those in favor, say aye.”
There’s no one who’s dumb enough to oppose. Lily is Murder’s sister, and it’s a damn good thing she does for battered women, and she’s been needing a bigger place for a while now.
We’re going from operating a whorehouse to running a halfway home for abused women and children. It’s not a bad plan and doing so makes us look good and gets the city off our back.
The second church ends, I’m going straight for my cell phone, hoping for a text back from Zoe.
ChapterEight
“Do you want to talk about it?” I question Kiesha as she shovels a heap of diced strawberries and waffles in her mouth.
“Not really,” she mumbles between bites.
Kimber and I share a look. Nav took off for club business. I’m assuming Prodigy is at the clubhouse as well. He sent me a text. Right now, being here for my girl is more important. And if he’s doing club stuff, it’s not like he has time to be texting with me. As great as our night and our morning was, I understand that the club comes first.
Pam always says if you love the man, you love the club. I know that’s true. I see it with her and my brother. My daughter and Navarro. If things go further with Prodigy, it will need to hold true for me too.
“Did he say anything to you?” Kimber pushes.
She has more memories of her father than Kiesha. I know despite how hard I’ve tried to fill that void, not having a good father has hurt them. My brother tried to be that strong male in their life, only nothing comes close to the real deal.
I hate Adam for robbing them of that relationship. There’s been times where out of anger and frustration the girls blamed me. Days like that were the worst. It’s been years since I’ve experienced one of those outbursts, thankfully.
“No.”
“Maybe he didn’t see you.” Kimber attempts to make excuses for him, something I did for years, but no longer do.
Refraining from shit talking the prick was a lot harder when all those wounds were fresh. I held it together. I don’t hide the truth. I also don’t go out of my way to make him look worse. He’s done enough of that on his own.
“He looked right at me. Our eyes met and not even a nod or a blink. I was practically a stranger passing him on the street. I hate him.”
Part of me wants to voice to her she doesn’t mean that. Her feelings are valid, though, and I won’t dismiss her anger.
“Who won the game last night?”
“We did.”
“Did you have fun with your friends? Anyone special there?”
Kiesha’s head snaps up as she swipes away a lone tear. “You told her,” she screeches and lunges across the table at Kimber, arms outstretched, fingers grasping for her sister’s throat.
Kimber shoves back in her chair. “You’re crazy.”
“I saw you staring at Sam and me like a creepy weirdo last night and whispering to Nav.”
