Page 97 of Cannon
“Perfect timing. I’m at The Pit. Come through.”
Twenty minutes later, I pushed through the door of the dimly lit bar in Uptown. Place was half-empty, just how I liked it. 90’s Hip Hop played low, bartender minding his business, and Choke posted up in the back corner booth nursing what looked like whiskey.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said, rising to dap me up. “Damn, you look like shit.”
“Good to see you too,” I muttered, sliding into the booth across from him.
Choke signaled the bartender for another glass. He’d always been my most solid connection, the one person who never switched up on me.
“Where you been hiding at? It’s been weeks,” he said, studying my face. “And what’s with the bruises? You back on your bullshit?”
I accepted the whiskey the waitress brought over, taking a long swallow before answering. “Been working security at this club. Sylk Road.” I ain’t even feel like explaining that I got into it with his cousin, my brother.
Choke’s eyebrows shot up. “That high-end joint? How’d you swing that?”
“Owner took a chance on me.”
“Owner, huh?” A knowing smile spread across his face. “That why you been ghost? You fucking the boss lady?”
I glared at him but couldn’t hide the truth. Choke knew me too well.
“Shit,” he laughed. “You are! What’s her name again? Queen something?”
“Queen Davenport,” I said, feeling her name heavy on my tongue after our fight. “And it’s… complicated.”
“With you, it always is.” Choke leaned back, crossing his thick arms. “So what happened? You look like you carrying the weight of the world.”
I told him everything, about meeting Queen, about the club getting shut down because of Jupiter’s overdose, about falling for her harder than I meant to. Then I dropped the bomb about the inheritance.
“Twenty million?” Choke nearly choked on his drink. “From Tessa? And you ain’t take it yet?”
“It’s blood money,” I said defensively.
“It’s YOUR money,” he fired back. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“You sound just like Queen,” I muttered.
“Then Queen’s the only one with sense between the two of you.” Choke leaned forward, his face serious. “Listen to me. That money is yours by right. Your birthright. You think turning it down makes you noble? It makes you stupid as hell,” Choke finished. “You already paid for that money with five years of your life. You paid for it with blood and time. You think your mama leaving you that inheritance is charity? It’s reparations, my nigga.”
I stared into my glass, letting his words sink in. He wasn’t wrong. Queen wasn’t wrong either. I’d been holding onto this grudge like it was keeping me alive, when really it was just keeping me broke and angry.
“So what if it’s blood money?” Choke continued, refilling my glass. “Most money is. You think these white folks got their wealth from being nice? Hell nah. They stole, killed, and cheated their way to the top. At least this money is rightfully yours.”
“I don’t want to feel like I owe them something,” I admitted.
“Owe them?” Choke laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet bar. “They owe you! Your birth mother let you grow up without knowing who you really were. Your half-brothers’ daddy had your real father murdered. Silas King set you up to go to prison. And you think taking what’s legally yours makes you weak? That’s backwards, my guy.”
I rolled the glass between my palms, feeling the cool weight of it. “Queen called me stupid.”
“Because you are,” Choke said without hesitation. “Look at you. Living in that shithole apartment, eating ramen, when you could be building something real. Taking care of the people you care about. Twenty million ain’t just money, it’s freedom.”
His words hit me like a sledgehammer. I sat there, the glass cold between my palms, letting the truth sink in. All this time I’d been telling myself I was being principled, when really I was just being stubborn.
“Fuck,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. “I’ve been acting like a child throwing a tantrum.”
“Exactly. Think about it. You got a woman who’s seen some shit, built something from nothing, and now her whole world’s falling apart. Her club’s shut down, her dancer’s dead, and here you are sitting on a fortune that could help both of you, but you’re too proud to claim it.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Pride is expensive, my nigga. You sure you can afford it?”
The truth of his words settled heavy in my chest. Queen had been right. I was being stupid.
