Page 13 of In Another Time

When I pulled up to the jail, I parked and walked inside, my mind still racing. As much as I wanted to be angry with him, I couldn’t turn my back on him. He was my brother, and if I didn’t have his back, who would? After what felt like an eternity of paperwork and payments, O'Shea finally emerged, looking tired but unapologetic.

“Good looks, bro,” he said as we headed toward the car.

I shook my head, climbing behind the wheel. As I pulled out of the lot, I glanced at him and could feel the tension in the carthickening. I could feel it building, the words I’d been holding back clawing their way to the surface.

“You know this shit has to stop, right?” I said, my tone sharp as I stared straight ahead.

O'Shea shifted in his seat, his expression hardening. “I told you, bro. It wasn’t my fault this time.”

“It’s never your fault, is it?” I snapped, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “You keep finding yourself in these situations, but somehow, you’re always the victim.”

“You don’t know what it’s like dealing with Cindy’s ass,” he shot back, his voice rising. “Nigga, she’s crazy, man. She’ll do anything to make my life miserable because I don’t wanna be with her no more.”

“She’s not the one who keeps making dumb decisions,” I said, cutting him off. “You’re almost thirty, O. You’ve got a kid to think about now. When are you gonna stop blaming everyone else and start taking some responsibility for your life?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect. You’ve got your fancy lounge club shit and your perfect ass life. Not everyone gets to live like you.”

“Don’t start with that,” I warned, my voice low but firm. “You think I just woke up one day and everything fell into place? I worked my ass off to get here. I sacrificed, I made changes, and I stopped letting my ego run my life.”

O'Shea stared out the window, his jaw clenched. “Not everyone’s like you, Omir.”

“You’re right,” I said, my voice steady. “Not everyone is like me. But you don’t have to keep being the guy who gets dragged into jail over some baby mama drama. You’re better than this, O'Shea, but you’ve gotta want it for yourself.”

Silence hung heavily in the car for a moment, and I glanced over at him. His face was set, his pride clearly wounded, but I didn’t care. He needed to hear it.

“Look, I love you,” I said, softening my tone. “But I can’t keep bailing you out. You’ve got to grow up, man. For Juice, if not for yourself.”

O'Shea exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I hear you,” he muttered, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t ready to fully admit it.

I let it go, for now. There was no point in pushing further. He’d either get it or he wouldn’t. But as I pulled up to his apartment and watched him get out of the car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this cycle was far from over. He gave me a quick nod before disappearing inside, and as I drove away, I could only hope that someday, he’d figure his shit out.

LENNOX

“Let’s focus on the numbers for the Crawley Group,” I said, pacing the length of the conference room. My heels clicked against the hardwood floor, echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

A dozen eyes were on me as I gestured toward the projector screen, where our latest profit-and-loss statement was displayed. “We exceeded projections by six percent, but I want to aim for ten next quarter with this next group. What ideas do we have to push these numbers even higher?”

A hand shot up at the far end of the table. I nodded at Enid, one of my sharpest analysts. “We could explore diversifying our client portfolio,” she suggested. “Target smaller businesses in emerging markets instead of just focusing on the heavyweights.”

“Good,” I said, jotting it down in my notebook. “Let’s flesh that out in next week’s strategy session. Anyone else?”

The meeting carried on like clockwork—questions, suggestions, assignments. This was where I thrived, in my element, commanding the room with confidence and precision. But no matter how smoothly things went, I couldn’t ignore the nagging distraction creeping into my mind.

It had been just about a month since Omir. A month since his kiss lingered on my lips, since his hands trailed across my skin, since I’d felt his godly dick. I shook the thought off as the meeting wrapped up. “That’s all for now. I expect to secure a new client by the end of the week. Let’s make it happen, people.”

As my team filed out of the room, I gathered my things, ready to retreat to my office. But before I could make it to the door, I heard a voice behind me.

“Great meeting, Lennox.”

I turned to see Adrian, the new junior associate who’d joined our firm a couple of weeks ago. He was handsome, in a polished, textbook kind of way—smart, tall, light skin, low cut. And apparently, he thought he had a chance with me.

“Thanks, Adrian,” I said, keeping my tone professional as I moved past him into the hall.

He fell into step beside me. “I was wondering if you had time to grab lunch today. I know this great little spot a few blocks away?—”

“I’m busy,” I said, cutting him off with a polite but firm smile. “Maybe another time.”

“You’ve been saying that all week,” he said, grinning like he thought persistence was charming.

---