D-Rock’s face twisted into an ugly scowl. “Ain’t that the pot callin’ the kettle? Fuck, you’re so far up that rich bitch’s ass, you can’t even see that you’re fuckin’ draggin’ her down like you’re accusing me of doin’ to Trinity.” He laughed bitterly. “You’re a gangbanger and she’s practically fuckin’ royalty. You’ve got no business touchin’ her, but you don’t seem to get that, do you? What do you think is gonna happen with you two? You’re gonna move into her fancy digs and live happily ever after?”
If my gun were still drawn, I would have been tempted to pull the trigger to shut him up. “None of that shit you spewed is any of your goddamned business, so I suggest you buy yourself a bus ticket and get back to Bumfuck where I sent you, and wait until you’re called.”
D-Rock’s face twisted with rage. “You don’t get to fuckin’ tell me what to do. I’m not some punk kid anymore, Rix. I’ve paid my dues. I get a say.”
I stalked toward him. Enough was enough. “You don’t get a say unless I tell you you do. You’re still a punk kid because you can’t make a damn decision without putting what you want first. You need to grow the fuck up before you get yourself killed. Or before I kill you.”
“Fuck you, Rix.”
Enough of this little fucker. I closed the distance separating us and grabbed him by the throat, lifted him off his feet, and walked forward until his back slammed into the concrete wall. If my crew didn’t respect me, then they weren’t part of the crew any longer. Because he was a stupid fuck, I’d given him more chances than he deserved, but this was his last.
“You ever talk like that to me again, I will fuckin’ kill you with my bare hands. I won’t waste a bullet on your sorry piece-of-shit brain because you’ve wasted too much already. You’re done with the girl. No need to explain. I’ll take care of that shit. And if you talk about my woman again, you’ll wish you were dead long before I get around to ending you.”
And I meant every single fucking word of it. My hands weren’t clean. But in my world, the ends justified the means, and I got shit done. A few more steps, and I could walk out on this life.
I could already taste the sweetness of freedom on the other side. Not long now.
D-Rock gurgled against my hold, and I shook him hard.
“You get me?”
He nodded with jerking movements before I lowered him to his feet.
“Do not test me again. This is your last chance. Now, get the fuck out of my sight.”
He fixed his shirt and glared at me. All his thoughts showed on his face, but he was smart enough not to open his mouth.
“I’m gone,” he spat, before turning on his heel and stalking out of the warehouse.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, Johnny. This place is pissing me off.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
THE PRESS OF THE MASK on my face brought me right back to earlier this week. Rix. The club. It was everything I could do not to shiver when I remembered the storage room.
Tonight’s purpose was much more mundane, but still worthy. My mother had helped organize a masquerade at the New Orleans Museum of Art to raise money for a new children’s art program that was to be offered to any city resident under the age of fourteen at no cost. A noble cause, and one I couldn’t turn down given my own passion for the arts, even if my mother hadn’t co-chaired the committee.
I thought of little girls like Trinity. When I’d first met her at twelve and she’d been assigned as the Little to my Big, she’d been quiet and shy. Pulling words from her had been like pulling teeth. But when I’d brought out art supplies on a whim, she’d blossomed. I wanted that for all the other kids out there who might not otherwise discover a talent and become the next George Rodrigue with his famous blue dogs.
Tying my mask a little tighter, I stared into the mirror and laughed at the irony of an event to raise money for children but didn’t include a single child. No, tonight NOMA was full of glittering dresses and expensively cut suits with deep pockets. A silent auction of certain donated pieces was being held to raise funds on top of the hefty price of a ticket.
I stepped out of the ladies’ room and began circling the ballroom, searching for my parents. I knew plenty of other people in attendance, although the masks hid the identities well enough that I wasn’t able to place many of them.
As was the norm in this town when you pulled on a mask, people felt free to dress more risqué, laugh louder, act bolder. I’d already been on the receiving end of a very handsy gentleman who’d apparently hit the open bar a bit too hard. Which wasn’t a terrible idea, I supposed.
I strode up to the shortest line. Tonight would go much faster with a drink in my hand. I might support the cause they were raising money for, but that didn’t mean I was endlessly entertained by the event. I’d rather be home, in my studio, waiting for a certain man to break into my house.
Rix had been MIA all afternoon and evening, and as much as I wanted to text and ask where he was and what he was doing, I hesitated. The only thing I was pretty certain of was that he would find his way into my bed tonight somehow.
A glass of red acquired, I circled the room, catching sight of my father. Even from here, it was obvious his eyes were on my mother as she gestured to one of the silent auction pieces, no doubt giving excellent reasons why the last bid was dreadfully underpriced and how someone could still grab it for a steal. She was an expert at that.
I made my way to my father.