Page 22 of Give Me Love

“Please,” Antonio insists.

“Okay, okay.” I give in.

He smiles big and wraps the pasta around a silver fork.

I take it from his hand and hum.

“You like?” he asks, still smiling.

“Very much,” I reply.

He laughs. “See, I told you. I’ll make sure to wrap you a plate.”

I nod. “Thank you.” Others call out my name in a cheery tone, and I wave before stepping into the broom closet before I shut the door behind me. I knock four times on the wall in front of me, and it slides open.

Josh, the bouncer, gives me a courteous nod. “Good evening, Mr. Grant.”

I nod. “Josh.” I step through, and the kitchen ruckus is replaced with horse hooves and shuffling poker chips.

The smell of expensive cigars and thick russet brandy fills the massive room as I take to the steps and descend.

“Mr. Grant, what a pleasure,” Ruby greets me at the bottom and offers me a cigar. I accept and wait as the vibrant redhead lights it.

Giving it a few tokes, I scan the room. TV screens line the walls, and every horse race going on in the country is displayed.

Men sit in chairs watching earnestly. Heavy creases line their brows and hard liquor rests in front of them. I go to a table and take a seat.

The men already there give me a nod, and I take out my money clip. The dealer slides me my chips, and I sit back enjoying my cigar.

I adjust the tie around my neck and grab my cards once they are placed in front of me. Everything seems to be running smoothly. Poker games are in effect, roulette tables are spinning, and the sports section is full of drinkers and guys doing OTB (off-track betting).

Yes, this is illegal.

Yes, this is how I make my money. The club is a front. I started it a few years back with the idea of running this underneath.

Getting the word out was the hardest part, but the wealthiest and most influential men who have nothing but time and money to give come here from all over.

Pops is no fool. He knows what I’m into. I wouldn’t lie to his face, ever. Emily has her suspicions, but she’s never come out and asked me. My brother has lost money and won money in here, and Monnie and Lou also know, but they never speak of it.

As far as my family is concerned, I run a very successful club in downtown Atlanta and they wouldn’t say anything else if asked.

I play until I’ve doubled my money and am drunk enough to know I need to stop.

I call it a night after checking in with Simon, my guy who keeps everything running smoothly while I’m away.

It’s well after two a.m. when I go to climb the stairs.

“Goodnight, Ben,” I say.

“Sir. Your brother is already up there.”

I nod and pat him on the shoulder, leaving behind the cleanup crew.

“I’ve Got Skills” by Mozes and the Firstborn blasts through the Bluetooth speakers of my loft, and my brother has his arm over two chicks’ shoulders as they dance around naked.

They laugh, and he shouts the lyrics at the top of his lungs, his neck veins protruding.

Jesus.

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