“I’m serious, Chase.”
Chase smiled. “I know. So am I.”
Cyrus stood up. He was running out of approaches with this negro. He scratched his goatee and looked at him, smiling slyly, preparing to play his ace in the hole. “I don’t blame you, Smoke. Shit is real hot right now. The cops are still actively pursuing whoever killed Mooch and Post. Maybe it’s just a matter of time till they find out who pulled that shit.” He said it quietly and purposely greasy so Chase would catch his drift.
Chase was no fool and caught it right away. Chase was like lightning with that fucking razor, and all Cyrus heard was that grim and familiar whick-whick-whick before the blade was open and in his hand. Chase didn’t get up, but Cyrus took a step back; he had to because that crazy light was back in Chase’s eyes.
Corey had a look of shock on his face as he instinctively placed himself between them. “Listen…please stop this shit!”
Chase stood up slowly and expertly twirled the razor between his fingers. That crazy smile joined that crazy light. “You threatening me, Cyrus? You gonna tell the cops about me?” Whick-whick. The razor twirled in his hand as Chase came around the desk.
Cyrus stepped back, and Corey stepped back with him.
Chase laughed a sinister, ominous-sounding chuckle, like something straight out of a horror movie. “You go ahead and give me up, Cyrus. Go right ahead, but know that if you do open your mouth about that shit, I guarantee it won’t be Wolf you’ll have to worry about…and he won’t have to bother with your ass anymore either.”
“What you sayin’, Smoke? You gonna kill me?”
“Give me up and you’ll find out. Find somebody else to do your dirty work, Cyrus. I’m done with you. We’ll open your club tomorrow, and start the separation process. If you ever decide to get your shit together—which I doubt your fool ass will—I’ll think about lettin’ you back into my life.”
Cyrus’s mouth had always gotten him into trouble—that and his temper. He got so mad, so quick, he didn’t even realize it when the insult poured out of his lips. “You ain’t nothin’ but a fuckin’ pussy, Chase,” he said venomously and spat over Corey’s shoulder.
The wad of warm saliva landed on the collar of Chase’s T-shirt, and Chase lost his goddamned mind…but he gave it some thought before he made his move. He threw his razor over his shoulder and came around Corey so quick that neither brother had had time to react. He head-butted Cyrus and re-fractured his nicely healing nose. Chase’s left knee connected with Cyrus’s groin, and his right fist rammed into his windpipe.
In less than ten seconds, Cyrus was on his way down. Chase grabbed him in a headlock on his way to the floor with his left arm and put his right arm across the back of his neck, then grabbed his chin. Cyrus had no idea Chase was as strong as he was, but that was the way Chase put niggas to sleep. He was signing his name on Cyrus, and Cyrus felt his air cut off and his lights going out.
“I don’t need a fuckin’ razor, Cyrus. I’ll snap your goddamned neck if you ever disrespect me again. You have no idea who you’re fuckin’ with, do you?”
“Chase! Please, Chase! Let him go! Oh God! Jesus!” Corey wailed, trying to pull his big brothers apart, but Chase was too strong.
Chase leaned forward and spoke in his ear. “You’re gonna make me kill you, Cyrus,” Chase said through his teeth. He pushed Cyrus away from him; he fell hard, but he made sure he rolled away from Chase’s crazy ass when he hit the floor.
Cyrus tried desperately to get his breath back as Corey started jabbering. “Chase! Chase, what the fuck, man? You could have killed him. Oh my God! What the fuck—”
“Stop it, Corey. Stop. It’s over. His ass is still alive, but I bet he won’t be spittin’ on me no more. Now calm the fuck down. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Cyrus got to his knees, and Corey helped him to his feet. He looked at Chase like he didn’t want to know him as Chase folded his razor and put it back in his pocket. “You’re fuckin’ crazy,” he said, still trying to catch his breath.
Chase’s eyes sparkled, and he laughed. “If you didn’t know it before, now you do. Don’t fuck with me, Cyrus. I went easy on you, but you’re runnin’ out of chances with me. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine o’clock. Now get the fuck outta my office.”
Cyrus realized a couple of things in that moment, things Chase maybe wasn’t aware of. First, he could and would find a way to get rid of Wolf himself. It might end up a lot messier than if Chase did it, but he’d jump that hurdle when he got to it. Second, Chase should have known how much of a vengeful bastard Cyrus was; his little brother should have killed him while he had the chance, because he might not have the opportunity again. If Chase wants things to be like that between us, so be it. I ain’t losin’ nothin’. I’ve hated his ass from the beginning.Cyrus smiled and wiped the blood off his face. He was good at waging war, and Chase had just started one. He might destroy himself in the process, but Cyrus made up his mind right then and there that he would have the last fucking laugh. Have it you way, motherfucker. Time for me to destroy you.
Chapter 15
Bliss and Chase had their first real argument over whether or not Bliss should attend the opening of Cyrus’s club. Bliss wanted to go because she thought something was going to happen, and she thought there would be less chance of Chase getting involved if she were there. Chase didn’t want her to go because he knew something was probably going to jump off, and he didn’t want to have the added worry of keeping her safe during whatever went down. She didn’t quite understand, but Chase knew if anything happened to her, he’d probably say, “Fuck it,” and sign off. He would die if something happened to Bliss; it would kill his future, and he’d have nothing left to live for. Part of him had been dead inside for a long time, but Bliss was bringing him back to life. For once in his life, he didn’t feel so angry. He didn’t want to destroy everything in his path, and he wasn’t feeling so furious with the world. Because of Bliss, he was starting to feel like he wasn’t the raging, bloodthirsty psychopath he’d always thought himself to be.
Bliss sat on his bed watching him. “I really wish you’d let me go with you, Chase.”
From where he stood in front of the mirror, Chase put his brush down and looked at her. “I’ll come to your place when it’s over, I promise. You don’t need to be there, baby, and I’m not gonna argue about it anymore.”
“You really think something’s gonna happen, don’t you?” she asked, looking worried.
Chase stood in front of her and touched her hair. “Stop worryin’, Bliss. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
She curled her fingers around his. “How can I stop worrying when you obviously think it’s too dangerous for me to be there? Don’t you think I worry about you?”
Chase smiled at her. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. You oughtta know that by now.”
Bliss frowned. “You think Wolf might try something with Cyrus tonight?”
“I think it’s a real strong possibility, if he keeps his ear to the ground like he’s supposed to.”
“Oh God. I don’t want you to go, Chase. Just stay here with me. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”
Chase understood her trepidation because he felt it too. There was some little nagging feeling that something was about to happen, a thread of unease. He sat down next to her. “I have to go, Bliss.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. No you don’t. If I don’t have to be there, neither do you. You don’t owe Cyrus anything, so let him open his own damn club, Chase. You’ve helped him enough.”
He didn’t say anything.
“You just want to be there to protect Corey if anything goes down, right? I know that’s what it is, even if you don’t say so. But I’ve got a better idea. Just call Corey and tell him not to go. Even better, cancel the shit altogether.”
But it was a little late for that. Chase held his tongue and put his shoes on, his black Uptowns.
This wasn’t lost on Bl
iss, who felt like he was ignoring her. She looked at the shoes, then back up to his face. “Think you might have to run?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I just might.” He stood and got his keys. “Let’s go.”
Bliss reluctantly followed him out to the elevator and down to the garage. She looked at him with a tight smile. “Which car are you taking?”
Chase picked up his helmet and handed her one. “I’m not takin’ a car.”
Bliss took the helmet and walked over to the Ducati.
“No…the other one.” He pointed to the black Kawasaki, and he could see the dread in Bliss’s eyes. “You really do think something’s gonna happen, don’t you?”
Chase got on the bike and leaned it down for her. Bliss got on without another word and he took her home, finding a generous amount of solace in being that close to her. Something was going to happen, all right. He felt it deep in his bones, and Chase’s hunches were seldom wrong. Chase parked his bike in front of Bliss’s building and took out his cell phone. He tried Corey at home and on his cell, but he only got voicemail both times. He even tried Cyrus and got the same thing.
Bliss stood on the curb, holding her helmet in her hands, watching him. “Chase?”
He put his phone back in his pocket. “It’s too late,” he said in resignation. Whatever was meant to be had already been set in motion, and the course of events was irrevocable. He got off his bike and pulled Bliss into his arms, kissing her soft and long. Then he pulled away, trying to keep his true feelings out of his eyes, though he knew that was impossible. “No matter what happens, look for me. I’m coming right back to you the minute it’s over.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.
He gently broke the kiss and pushed her back. He smiled a little. “I gotta go now, Bliss. I’ll be back.”
Her eyes were huge when she looked at him. “I’m scared for you, Chase. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
He smiled for real. “Bliss…I’m not goin’ off to fight lions. I’m only goin’ to open a club. Besides, God don’t want me. I’ll be back.”
“Don’t say things like that, baby. He does.” She kissed him and touched his face. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He got back on his bike and put his helmet on. “Go upstairs, Bliss. I’ll call you when I get there.”
Bliss was being clingy, but so was he. He knew if he didn’t take off, he wasn’t going to be able to pull himself away from her.
Bliss hugged him again and turned to go.
When she was safely inside, Chase put his visor down and took off.
When he got to the club, people were milling around behind the velvet ropes, talking excitedly and waiting to get in. Chase went past all of them and turned his bike into the alley. He lifted his visor and went in the back way, through a fire door near the kitchen and employee facilities.
Chase’s dread and misgivings had grown into a bona fide case of the jumps, and he’d never learned how to abide that feeling well. It launched him into a mode of self-preservation…and of protector. He took his helmet off and went in search of Corey. He found him down in front near the hostess, and he was hugely relieved to see Corey keeping company with J.T. rather than Cyrus. He walked up to them and gave J.T. dap.
“What’s up, Chase? Where’s Bliss?”
Chase put a hand on both their shoulders and walked them back to the office. He closed the door and put his helmet on his desk.
“Where’s Bliss?” Corey repeated.
Chase went to the safe and looked over his shoulder at him. “I told her not to come.”
Corey sat down. “Why? And she listened to you?”
Chase took a strongbox out of the safe and glanced at Corey. “Yeah. I managed to convince her. Is Dee here?”
“Nah. Dee’s at Cream,” J.T. said, frowning because he knew what was in the box. “You all right, Chase?”
Chase opened the box and looked up at him. “No, I’m not all right. I got a bad feelin’ about this, J.T. Corey, you got your gun on you?”
Corey was frowning. “Course I do. What’s wrong, Chase? You think Wolf might move on us tonight?”
“I’m almost sure he will. Think about it. It’s the perfect opportunity. Wolf still owes Cyrus for that shit him and Khalid pulled, and he owes me, too, for takin’ out Mooch and Post. Maybe he feels like he can kill two birds with one stone, but little does he know, I ain’t goin’ out like that.”
J.T. reached into the box and took out a .45 that rivaled Herc Mercer’s trusty old pal. “Me neither,” he said, making sure it was loaded.
Chase smiled. J.T. was two different people just as much as he was—ride or die. He put up his usual argument. “You ain’t got to be in this, J.T.”
J.T. smiled and tucked his gun away. “Nonsense. It’s invigorating.”
“This shit is my fault,” Chase said. He took another razor out of the box, along with two long silver chains, the kind bikers put their keys and wallets on, only a little longer.
“How is it your fault?” Corey asked, looking at the chains with great interest.
Chase had been wearing gloves since before he got on his bike, so he wasn’t worried about prints. If he was anything, he was meticulous. He took the razor he always carried out of his pocket and clipped the chain onto the D-ring at the end of the handle. “It’s my fault because I should have killed Wolf’s ass when this shit first happened instead of trying to have a power struggle with Cyrus. I don’t know why I fought him so hard for anyway. It always comes back to Cyrus getting his way. Let’s face it…he’s gonna get his way tonight, too, ‘cause I ain’t lettin’ us live our lives lookin’ over our shoulders. Better just to erase the problem.”
Corey raised both eyebrows. “You goin’ after him tonight, Chase?”
“Only if he steps to me…or you or J.T. I don’t really want to do it here. It’s way too public—too many people.”
J.T. was watching him with his arms folded across his chest. Chase was wearing a brand new pair of black Levi’s and a black Dior shirt. Chase never tucked his shirt in unless he was wearing a suit. He lifted his shirt tail and clipped a chain onto each of his front belt loops, then he put the razors in his back pockets. Both Corey and J.T. were looking at him curiously.
“What the fuck are you doin’, Chase?” Corey asked.
Chase shrugged. “It’s insurance. I just want to make sure these razors don’t get too far away—in case somebody jumps me or somethin.”
J.T. smiled. “That’s nice, but can you do tricks?”
Chase smiled back. “Yeah. I can do tricks, all right.”
J.T. rubbed his hands together. “Do some tonight. I can’t wait to see ‘em.”
Corey turned around and stared at him. “You’re one sick fuck, J.T.”
J.T. shrugged. “Maybe I am.”
Chase ignored both of them. He took a .32 out of the box, checked it, and put the box back in the safe. “Where’s Cyrus?”
Corey laughed. “In the VIP room with his entourage, biggin’ himself up to anyone who’ll lend a fuckin’ ear.”
Chase nodded. “Maybe that’s the best place for him to be, and with any luck, that’s where he’ll stay. Hopefully, nothin’ will happen at all.”
Corey took out his own gun and checked it. “What makes you so sure Wolf is gonna come here?”
“I told you before, Corey…it’s a hunch.”
“You gonna go talk to Cyrus?” J.T. asked.
“You think I should?” Chase thought back to his last meeting with Cyrus. The fool spat on him! He still couldn’t believe that shit. Chase had been two seconds from snapping his neck. The only thing that saved him was the fact that he was his brother. He had absolutely no desire to look at Cyrus ever again. Bliss was right when she said the only reason he was here at all was to protect Corey.
“I don’t think you should tell Cyrus shit. If Wolf and his pals do show up, you should lock him in the VIP room with Cyrus and his crew and let the best
man win,” J.T. interjected.
“Sounds like a plan.” Chase walked over to Corey and put his hand on his shoulder. He loved his little brother to death and always had, even if he was better at showing it than saying it. “I love you, Corey. Stay close to me tonight okay?”
Corey looked startled at first, but then he laughed. “I love you, too, Chase. I ain’t no punk, though, and I can handle myself.”
“I never called you one. Just don’t argue with me, Corey, and do like I asked you to.”
Corey shook his head. “You always treat me like a damn little kid, Chase. In case you hadn’t noticed, we ain’t walked home from no schoolyards in years.”
“I don’t think this is a good time to raise up, youngster,” J.T. said.
Corey narrowed his eyes at him. “Mind your business, J.T.”
J.T. smiled. “I am.”
Corey looked at Chase resentfully.
“Fuck, Corey, just humor me,” Chase said.
Corey shrugged. “Fine. Consider me your goddamned shadow.”
“Thank you. Now, if y’all are ready, let’s go. We’ll sit at the bar and watch who drifts in and out of this place.”
******
An hour went by, then another. Though Chase hadn’t called in any favors to any of the many celebrities he knew, asking them to make an appearance, more than a few showed up to show Cyrus some love, through Chase. At the end of the second hour, Chase stood up and stretched. Cyrus’s club opening was a success, even if he didn’t think enough of Chase to at least pop his head out of the VIP room. Chase didn’t really give a shit. The club could fall to ruin the very next day for all he cared. He’d done his job, and the rest was Cyrus’s problem.
Still, Cyrus’s blatant disrespect for him bothered him a lot more than he cared to admit. He was spitting in his face by holing up in the VIP room like that, and Chase was tired of waiting his ass out. He drank the rest of his Pellegrino, but it didn’t do anything to put out the small flames of anger he felt for his brother, and his radar was still up. He turned away from the bar.
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