I think.
I stopped keeping tabs on Corey and Anita Sire years ago. A drunken mechanic and a cocaine-snorting nail tech, our parents were the very definition of deadbeats. It was another reason why Atticus and I were so close.
“Sheryl Brass came slithering around The Orchestra yesterday,” Atticus said before cutting into his medium rare ribeye steak. “She’s got it bad for you, Cass.”
Sheryl Brass was a tall, legs-for-days, sexy blonde that had all the right curves, all the right wrapping, and all the right shamelessness. However, I wasn’t one to be distracted, blinded, or manipulated by pussy, no matter how talented it was. And while I had nothing against the woman in general, I’d been in the VIP section of The Orchestra when she first made an appearance on the scene.
She’d been invited in, drank the free alcohol, danced with the other girls, and had kept herself entertained by sucking some dick, riding some dick, and at one point in the night, she’d done both at the same time.
Now, don’t get me wrong. She hadn’t been the only female being passed around that night, and I didn’t judge how anyone got their rocks off, but I wasn’t big on sharing. It was a matter of health concerns more than anything else. I was very attached to my dick, and I wasn’t going to risk it rotting off for some sex. Especially, when I could get prime pussy any damn time I wanted.
Prime pussy was the kind that made money off that treasure between their legs, and the only way you could keep making money off it was to keep it clean. Besides, paying for it guaranteed no drama after the deed was done.
“She’s not my type,” I semi-lied. I’ve had my fair share of blondes with big tits, long legs, and flexible joints, so it wasn’t her appearance that was the problem. It was eagerness for anyone’s dick that was the problem.
On the left side of me, Xavier snorted. “That’s what condoms are for, Cass.”
I glanced at my friend, and smirked. “You’re so full of shit,” I replied. “You’re more picky about where you stick your dick than I am.”
“I’m not picky,” he lied. “I’m selective.”
Xavier Loftus was six-foot-four of conditioned muscle. We were the same age, but where Xavier had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and dark mocha-colored skin, I was six-foot-two with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and though I was Caucasian, I was lucky enough to have some color to my skin and not have that pasty white complexion that burned easily. And sometimes, looking over at Atticus, it was like looking in a mirror. We looked alike enough that people often took one of us for the other. Only one inch separated us in height.
“I just don’t trust her,” Atticus tossed out after swallowing his bite of steak. “Not saying you’re not a handsome guy, Cass, but…I don’t know. It’s like she’s trying too hard, or something.”
“Lots of women try hard to get your brother’s attention,” Xavier pointed out.
“I know, but…this feels different,” he replied. “The woman is giving me sketchy vibes.”
“I can handle Sheryl Brass, Atty,” I told him. “But if it makes you feel better, you have my permission to do a full background check on her.”
“Yeah?” I chuckled at the glee in his voice. Atticus had a love for research and academia. The kid had a hell of a brain inside that thick skull of his.
“While I don’t think Sheryl Brass is an issue, I’m not going to discount your intuition. Our instincts exist for a reason.”
We ate in peace for a few minutes, the bulletproof glass tinted as a one-way mirror, allowing us to enjoy our dinner. While no one could see inside the private dining room, many diners had seen me walking in with Atticus and Xavier as we’d made our way to the room. Any one of them could have sent a text or made a phone call to one of my enemies, letting them know I was here.
Of course, the room had a back entrance, and we were always strapped, and it would be a bloodbath if anyone dared to come after us, but I really just wanted to enjoy a nice meal with my family tonight.
And while I didn’t have a lot of enemies, I had enough to make sure I was always aware of my surroundings. I was a successful businessman with a few legitimate businesses on the books, but more illegitimate ones filling my bank accounts.
“How are things going with Pryce?” I asked my brother after a while.
There was a surefire smile in his response. “We’re good.”
Pryce Switzer was as close to a girlfriend as Atticus has ever gotten. A confirmed bachelor, Atticus hasn’t been in a committed relationship since we were in high school. We’d had priorities once we’d been forced into the real world of adulthood, and love hadn’t been on the list of things to do during those early years, when we’d been finding our way. Survival had been at the top of the list, and it’s remained there all these years later.
But last year, Atty had met Pryce when she had gone into The Symphony, asking for an application for a job. She’d just moved to town, and she’d been looking for a job. Atticus had been at the bar as she filled out the application, and they had struck up a conversation where Atticus had ended up asking her out.
She had turned him down.
And when she had cited all the reasons why finding a job was more important than finding a date, Atticus had been so impressed, he had stalked her for two months before she had finally said yes. However, it hadn’t been that hard to stalk her since she had gotten the job. And to Atty’s credit, he had stayed out of it and had let Kelsey Horne, my restaurant manager, do the interview and hire Pryce without any influence from him.
There was also the bonus that, with Pryce being new to town, she’d had no clue who Atticus was, so her interest in him had been genuine. A woman who had no clue who he was and who had wanted to earn her own money had been akin to a unicorn in our world. Atticus had snatched her up, and they’ve been dating ever since. And he was faithful to her. All the tits and ass that was thrown at him all the time, Atty was faithful to her. He just wasn’t ready to write it all in cement yet.
Xavier, on the other hand, liked being single. The only thing I didn’t understand about him was that he only dated Black women. I knew he had an appreciation for all women, but I’ve only ever seen him hookup with Black women. And it was odd to me when a man was that specific.
Now, me? I treasured all women. I didn’t have a preference where they were concerned. Other than the preferred arrangement where they got me off before they took my money, I didn’t care what kind of woman the service sent over. Black, White, Asian, Indian, short, tall, average, skinny, thick, petite, blonde, brunette, redhead, or with rainbow-colored goddamn hair, I didn’t care. When you were in it for sex only, the rest of the package didn’t matter.
