Cyrus reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. “You’re my brother, Chase. You and Corey and me gotta stick together. You understand me?”
Chase pulled his hand away. “I heard what you said.”
Cyrus smiled. “Yeah, but do you understand me?”
Chase didn’t look at him. “I said I heard you.”
Corey returned and sat down. He looked first at Chase, then at Cyrus. “I don’t hear no singin’. Y’all still fightin’?”
“There’s no fighting—just a difference of opinion. Smoke is stubborn as hell,” Cyrus said.
“Did you tell him yet?” Corey asked.
“Tell me what?” Chase really wasn’t interested in whatever Cyrus had to say. He’d shown up like he was supposed to, and now he just wanted to be gone.
“I was thinking of starting a legitimate business,” Cyrus said.
This piqued Chase’s interest. “Legit? For real? You gettin’ out of the game?”
Cyrus laughed. “Come on, Chase. You know me. I’ll probably never get all the way out of the game. There’s too much money to be made in it. I’m just thinking of branching out, that’s all.”
“What kind of business?” Chase asked, wondering what all of it had to do with him.
“A club—something like your Cream maybe.”
“Yeah. And we already got the property,” Corey added. Chase smiled and shook his head. Cyrus wasn’t a complete idiot, but the idea that he would try to make a serious attempt at running a place like that was laughable to him. It would probably go under in six months.
“What’s funny?” Cyrus asked.
“Nothing. Good luck with your, uh, business.”
Cyrus smiled himself and fixed his eyes on him. “I don’t need luck, Chase. I need you.”
Chase laughed. “Me? What for?”
“You got experience running something like this. I don’t.”
Chase’s smile became wry. “So why try?”
Something glittered in Cyrus’s eyes. “Why not?”
The waiter came and took their orders, but Chase declined.
“You’re not eatin’ with us?” Corey asked.
Chase looked at Cyrus. “No. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
Cyrus stared at him for a moment and then sighed heavily. “All right, Chase. All right already! I got resentment comin’ off you in waves. Forget I asked you to help me and Corey. I understand.”
Chase looked away, feeling the heavy hands of guilt and loyalty settling down on his shoulders.
Cyrus turned to Corey. “Well, we already committed to the lease. We might as well get started. I mean, I was hoping we’d get some help from Smoke, but it looks like we got his ass to kiss.” He glanced at Chase, and Chase’s mouth turned down like he suddenly tasted something sour. “But that’s all right. If he wants to forget his family…it’s all good. We’ll still love him, right?”
Corey looked from him to Chase and shook his head. “You know what, Cyrus? Maybe we can go another way. Maybe we can hire somebody to get this thing off the ground, you know? It ain’t no big deal.”
Cyrus blew breath between his teeth. “Yeah, at least not to Chase.”
“Come on, Cyrus. Ease the fuck up. If he don’t wanna do it, ain’t no use tryina force him. Just leave him alone.”
Chase weighed the pros and cons in his head. If he helped Cyrus with his new little business venture, which at least sounded legit, at the very least, he wouldn’t have to go through both of their bullshit. For all he knew, maybe Cyrus’s club would have a chance at succeeding; if that happened, Cyrus might stop hanging out at Cream, trying to sling his shit in Chase’s spot. Maybe, just maybe, Cyrus and Corey would get so involved in running their own club that they’d turn over a new leaf. It was farfetched, but it was a possibility—especially for Corey, because knowing Cyrus, he’d pass off all the problems that came with running a place down to his baby brother. Maybe Chase would finally wrest Corey from Cyrus’s influence.
“You want him left alone? Fine, it’s done. Smoke never remembers where his loyalties should lie. He’d rather trust his own business to that bitch Delia, a fuckin’ stranger, than deal with his own flesh and blood, and—”
Chase had had enough of their judgmental and self-serving bullshit. He picked up his butter knife and threw it at Cyrus. It hit him in the chest and would have stuck if it had been a steak knife.
Corey’s mouth dropped open in shock as Cyrus knocked the knife away reflexively, and outrage took over his features. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Chase? You tryin’ to stab me? Your own fuckin’ brother?” He was so upset that he was shaking.
Chase smiled.
His ass was shaking because he was knew Chase had mad skills with just about any kind of blade. All three of them knew that if Chase had meant to hurt him, that little get-together woulda been his last meal, and Chase said as much. “Calm down, Cyrus. If I wanted to hurt you, that knife would be sticking out of your chest. All three of us know it. I just wanted to stop your goddamn whining about my fuckin’ loyalties, and since you wouldn’t shut the fuck up like I told you, I needed to get your attention.”
Cyrus picked up his drink and drained it with a shaky hand. He put it back down and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. He looked at Chase angrily. “Fine. You fuckin’ got it.”
Chase leaned forward and put his hands flat on the table. “Good. I’m gonna help you, Cyrus.”
Cyrus put his handkerchief away and looked at Chase with sugar-coated venom. “Well, thank you, Chase. Thanks for steppin’ down to Earth long enough to help me out. I appreciate it…and I’m humbled.”
Chase laughed and shook his head. In spite of the laugh, he had a fleeting wish that the knife had been a steak knife. Cyrus could be a complete asshole at times, and this was one of them. For once, though, Chase was not in the mood. He refused to be baited and talked down to or made to feel obligated. He stood up with his hands still flat on the table. Chase looked Cyrus in the eye, and Cyrus fell back a bit.
Corey stayed silent, still looking from one brother to the other.
“You’re a fuckin’ bully, Cyrus,” Chase said plainly.
Corey looked down at the table and started shaking his head. “Chase, man…please!”
Chase didn’t take his eyes off Cyrus as he spoke to his little brother. “Much love, Corey, but you ain’t in this right now. I need you to be quiet. No disrespect.”
Corey nodded, still looking down at the table, seemingly resigned to obey.
Cyrus, on the other hand, stood up at the other end of the table, perhaps finding comfort in the fact that he was taller than Chase; in his mind at least, he was the bigger man. He looked seriously offended. “You flexin’ on me, Smoke? You raisin’ up on me?”
The restaurant wasn’t overly crowded, but the few people there were starting to stare.
Chase stood his ground and nodded vigorously. He even laughed a little. “Yeah, Cyrus, I guess I am. Depends on how you look at it. Like I said, I’m gonna help you, but only ‘cause I see the greater good in it.”
It was Cyrus’s turn to laugh. “The greater good, huh? Chase, I hate to tell you…but you ain’t so high and mighty.”
Chase nodded. “Yeah, I know. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about that though. A lot of it is thanks to you, Cyrus, but maybe most of it’s just me. We gotta make some changes, Cyrus. I ain’t your fuckin’ hand puppet. I’m gettin’ sick of jumpin’ when you say jump. I’m sick of you guilting me into doing your will. I’m standing up to you, Cyrus. I’m a man. I ain’t no kid anymore, and from this day on, I’m not gonna let you make me do nothin’.”
Cyrus glanced around. “Why don’t you sit down, Chase?”
Chase looked around at the other diners, who seemed very interested in the drama. He smiled and shrugged. “I really don’t want to, so I’m not going to. I’m gonna do what I want to do from now on. If you don’t like it, I don’t give a shit.” He paused as Cyrus sat down, giving him
a very black look that Chase didn’t particularly care for. Oh well, he thought. Fuck it. Chase’s smile brightened to the point of sarcasm. “What you gonna do, Cyrus? I mean, what’s the very worst thing you can do? I love you, man, but you gotta stop treatin’ me the way you do. You feel me?”
The black look stayed. “Oh, yeah. Believe me, I feel you, Smoke.”
“Good, then I’m out. I’ll call you first thing in the morning, and we can start pulling this shit together. Is that good for you?”
Cyrus grinned at him, but that black, deeply offended look still didn’t leave his eyes. “Great. Works for me.”
Chase put a hand on Corey’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. Then he walked out of the restaurant without looking back.
Chapter 3
Bliss was late, and she hated it when she wasn’t on time. It seemed like everything that morning was working against her. Her alarm didn’t go off, and since they were doing maintenance in her building, there was no hot water. The goddamned train had sat in the tunnel for ten minutes, and she’d just twisted her ankle coming up the subway steps in her high heels. To top everything off, it was pouring rain. She could feel the moisture in the air wilting her pretty gray business suit and drooping her hair. She was almost a half-hour late for the interview, disheveled as hell when she got there, and she was sure she wasn’t going to get the job. “Goddammit! Might as well go home,” she muttered under her breath. It was all just talk, though, because she needed the job badly, and she had to at least try.
Bliss turned the corner and started looking for the address, walking closer to the street side of the sidewalk so she could see the numbers. She paused in the middle of the block, thinking she’d passed it, but trying to look ahead of her to see if it was up ahead. To make matters worse, a guy on a motorcycle pulled into the curb and sprayed dirty gutter water all over her brand new shoes.
Bliss’s first reaction was to scream. No words—just straight screaming, loud and long, until she passed out right there on the sidewalk. She looked down at her shoes, and anger quickly replaced her woe-is-me mindset. Mucky black street water was all over her stockings and flung across the hem of her skirt.
None of the damage would have ever happened if the fool on the bike hadn’t driven into the spot like a maniac, trying to beat someone else to it. “What an idiot! A fucking moron!” she screamed, pulling tissues out of her purse and starting to wipe the dirty water off of her; really, though, her attempt was only making it worse.
The asshole got off of his bike—a nice, fiery red Ducati—and walked over to her. “Hey, Miss. You okay?” he asked, tentatively touching her arm.
Bliss snatched her arm away and dropped the leather portfolio that held her résumé on the cold, wet ground. The portfolio snapped open, and she watched in horror as her immaculate, beautiful, perfect résumé was instantly ruined by mud and rain, right before her eyes. They both bent to pick it up at the same time, and Bliss’s head bounced off his helmet. She saw stars and staggered back as he grabbed her elbow to keep her upright.
“Shit, lady. Are you okay?” he repeated, his voice muffled and tinny through the faceplate of his helmet.
Bliss rubbed her forehead and took a deep breath as she grabbed her portfolio away from him. She looked down at it in quiet anger. “You…you ruined my…God, you ruined it!”
“Sorry. I didn’t see you,” he said in that Darth Vader voice.
“Maybe you would have if you weren’t wearing that dark-ass helmet! Oh wait…I’m sorry. I guess you need it to keep your tiny brain from rolling out your damn ears when you crash!” Bliss yelled at him.
He flicked the faceplate up with one black leather gloved hand and looked at her with sharp, cognac-colored eyes. That was all she could see clearly: those eyes and the bridge of his nose. But still, they were enough to make her heart stutter. “What?” he asked, and his voice, still muffled, sounded like he was daring her to get smart with him again.
Bliss instantly lost her courage. She was angry, but she knew enough not to talk shit to random people in New York City, no matter how cute they may be. She didn’t want to invite trouble, so she just turned and walked away. He didn’t try to hold her there, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.
After that fiasco, Bliss found the address quicker than she thought she would. A lacquered black art deco door in a stone recess, next to a large plate-glass window with straight black drapes. Bliss rang the buzzer, thinking, What the hell? How much more could go wrong? She hoped going through with the interview might be her one bit of luck on such a horrible day.
A handsome guy in his mid-twenties opened the door and smiled at her with even white teeth. “Mornin’. May I help you?”
She smiled back, knowing she probably looked a hot mess. “My name’s Bliss Riley. I have a ten-o’clock appointment with Mr. Brown, for the manager position.”
He looked her over appreciatively and then looked at his watch. His look turned sympathetic. “It’s ten thirty, boo.”
Bliss’s smile weakened a little. “I know, I know. I’m really sorry I’m late, but if you just take one look at me, you’ll see I ran into a couple of problems. Please, Mr. . . .?” She trailed off and extended her hand, hoping he’d take it and give her his name.
“It’s Brown. I’m Corey Brown.”
Bliss’s eyebrows went up, and she regained some of her former wattage. “Oh? Nice to meet you, Mr. Brown. Will you be conducting my interview?”
“Nah. My brother’s in charge of that.” He looked at her skirt. “Tell you what…he ain’t even here yet, but he’s on his way. You go try and, uh, fix yourself up, and he won’t know you were late unless you tell him yourself. Okay?”
“More than okay. Thank you, Mr. Brown.”
“You’re welcome. Follow me…and watch your step.”
Bliss followed him inside, past the scattered workmen. They walked through an alcove that housed the public restrooms.
Corey pointed at them as he kept moving. “Those aren’t ready yet. You gotta use the one by the office.”
They went through a door by the kitchen and into a large sitting room. There was an office to the left and a bathroom to the right.
“Here you go. When you finish, wait out here for Chase. He should be here in a minute.”
“Thanks, Mr. Brown. I really appreciate it.”
He smiled at her. “No problem. If you give me your résumé, I’ll leave it on his desk.”
Bliss winced and showed him the ruined paperwork.
Corey laughed and lifted it out of the portfolio with two fingers. “Damn, girl! Looks like you’ve been having a hell of a mornin’.”
“I’m sorry about the condition it’s in. Some jerk on a motorcycle made me drop it in a damn puddle.”
Corey laughed. “A jerk on a motorcycle, huh? That’s funny. Anyway, I’ll clean this up as much as I can and put it on Chase’s desk for you.”
Bliss went into the bathroom and pulled herself together. She didn’t dare take more than five minutes for her mini-makeover, and she thought the end result was pretty good. She walked out of the bathroom and was just about to sit down when Corey popped his head out the office door.
“Come on in, Ms. Riley.”
When Bliss walked into the office, the first thing she saw was that damned motorcycle helmet sitting on the corner of the desk. She deflated like a balloon. Damn!
“This him? The asshole on the motorcycle?” Corey asked, obviously tickled to death.
Bliss was at a loss for words, and she felt heat flush her face. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what I said.”
Corey sat on the edge of Chase’s desk and laughed at her like he’d known her for years. “Hmm. Well, either way, I’m pretty sure it’s what you meant.”
Chase was sitting in the big leather chair behind the desk, not quite smiling himself. Bliss just stood there, unsure of her next move. “Should I sit down…or should I leave?”
Chase stood up, still wear
ing his motorcycle jacket, a sleek black piece with red piping. “Have a seat, Ms. Riley.” He turned to Corey as he took his jacket off. “Don’t you have somewhere you gotta be?”
Corey’s mouth dropped open comically as Bliss took a seat. “Come on, Chase. Why—”
Chase walked over to the coffeemaker and smiled at him. “See you later, Corey. Raise up outta here.”
Corey got up, albeit reluctantly. “Damn, Chase.”
“Open the door and step outside. See you later, Corey.”
Corey looked like he wanted to argue, but he decided against it. Instead, he smiled and winked at Bliss and took his brother’s advice.
Chase looked over his shoulder at her. “You want coffee?”
Bliss crossed her legs and watched his back: really a very nice back. He was just tall enough to be considered tall, maybe an even six feet. He was dressed, Bliss felt, very inappropriately for an interview, in an Ed Hardy T-shirt and a pair of jeans. “Actually, I’m more of a tea drinker.”
He laughed. “That figures. I got tea. How do you take it?”
“Just two sugars…and thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. For all you know, I might fuck it up.”
She laughed.
He smiled at her over his shoulder. He fumbled around for a moment, then stepped away and pulled out his cell phone. “Yeah, Corey, do me a favor and run down the block and get me a large coffee and a tea with two sugars.”
Bliss put her hand over her mouth and smothered a smile.
Chase sat on the same spot of the desk that Corey had vacated. He was still smiling. “Don’t laugh at me. I can admit I’m no good in a kitchen.”
Bliss found herself smiling too. “That’s not exactly a kitchen, Mr. Brown. It’s just a coffeemaker.”
He grinned at her. “How about I hire you and you make my coffee…Bliss?”
Bliss shrugged. “I can do coffee, no problem.”
He looked at her for a moment, his smile tapering down a bit. It wasn’t an I’m-checking-you-out kind of look, coursing shamelessly up and down her body. He looked at her face, and then his eyes hopped briefly to her crossed legs, only to return quickly to her face.
Chasing Bliss Page 3