“Okay, cool. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Okay.” I hurried to end the call, then shot Skye a text.
Nyx: Hey, girl. Don’t ask me any questions, just know that you picked me up last night.
Skye: Okay. Should I be worried? Are the cops going to be knocking on my door and asking me about this?
Nyx: Didn’t I say no questions?
Skye: Yeah. But when has saying that shit ever worked on me?
Good point.
Nyx: Okay. Fine. No, the cops won’t be asking you anything, and no I didn’t do anything illegal.
Skye: Alright, cool. That’s all I need to know.
Nyx: Thanks. Love you.
Skye: Love you too girl.
14
SHADE
I dropped into the seat next to Trace, who was slouched back, dark shades hiding whatever expression he wore. He tossed a few bills toward the stage while the stripper, wearing a barely there two-piece, rolled her hips and ran her hands down her thighs.
It was well past midnight, and like clockwork, he was spending his off-duty time letting the soft lights and slow music loosen the weight of the week.
“So, you’re serious about this retiring thing, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said calmly. “I’ve been doing this shit for a long time, and I have an entire business to show for it. I think it’s time I let the people who work for me do all of the heavy lifting.”
“I hear you. But I’m still not convinced you can do it. You may not talk about it, but you like slinging niggas back and forth.”
He nodded, a brief smile dancing on his face as he lifted his drink to his lips. “This is true. But like I said, it’s time out for all that. I need to be trying to settle down and?—”
“Settle down?” I questioned, looking at him like he was crazy. This wasn’t the Trace I was used to. It almost sounded like...“Hold up, did you go off and fall in love or some shit? Are you hiding a woman and didn’t tell me?”
He almost choked. “What? Hell no.”
“You sure? Because?—”
“Nah, man. You already know the deal, so get that out you head. I’m not referring to that kind of settling down. I’m just talking about being on my own time, so I can go hang out at vacation houses for weeks at a time and shit.”
“Hmm…okay.”
Silence fell between us.
Trace had worked for me since I’d become someone worth protecting in this industry, and we had ways of speaking to each other without saying a single word. He knew when I needed him to knock a nigga’s head off, and he knew when I needed him to fall back and let me handle shit. Although he’d thoroughly trained the guys that stepped in for him when he was off duty, it wasn’t the same. Trace didn’t just look out for me, he talked shit and kicked it with me because he was my boy. There was no replacing that.
I looked over at Trace, who at first glance appeared to still be fixated on the stripper in front of him. But I knew better. His little mystery woman had just walked into the club, and like always, she was wearing shades, dark oversized sweats, and a baseball cap that covered her honey blonde wig. It was obvious that she didn’t want to be noticed. But Trace always noticed her, and even though he never said it, he knew exactly who she was. We both did.
I had no idea what his fascination was with her, but I knew it was something. Whenever she entered a room, he’d lose grip on reality. Eyes distant, breath shallow. It was like she’d knocked the wind right out of him.
“Yo, what’s good, fam?” Mecca said as he strolled over to our table.
I stood and dapped him up with a quick one shoulder hug. “What’s up? What you doing in here tonight?”
