Page 55 of João
Turning around, I left him behind, a string of Portuguese curses following me all the way to my room.
My phone was charging on the nightstand and I yanked it from the cable. The tap of my nails sounded like a mini typewriter as I texted Vincent. No thoughts, just pure intention drove my actions.
We going to Q’s Space today. No excuses. Pick me up at 10.
Has anyone told you you’re bossy? Submissive my ass…and fine, see you at 10. Wear that leather dress I bought you. I guess you gonna show that man what you really made of, huh?
As God is my witness.
JOÃO
Moses and Pedro staring was usually easy to ignore. Tonight, it was hard as fuck. The conversation with Gisele rattled my sense of certainty. I’d moved through the world knowing my own mind and never hesitated. If I got shit wrong? I owned it and kept it moving. Everything with Gisele felt the opposite of that. Every move with her felt monumental and I didn’t want to get it wrong. Not with her. My stomach roiled as Moses and Pedro gave me the update on Leon LaSalle.
“He seems to have pulled back a bit. All of the members he tried to intimidate to extract info on you came straight to us,” Moses explained.
“But rumblings are starting to surface about it all. Some members feel you ain’t doing much to make sure he stops his bullshit. And there are questions of how he knows who’s on the list.”
“We know how he’s doing that,” I answered. A sip of cold water helped with the churning in my guts.
“You right, he had his men posted right outside of the perimeter, taking pictures. We took care of that last week, though, no more lookie-loos.” Pedro cracked his hands. The man was chill till he wasn’t, and knowing some of LaSalle’s men had started hanging out close to the club had been the breaking point for him.
“So you not mad at that shit? You’re not mad that this dude is messing with your legacy?” Pedro asked, pacing back and forth in my office.
Red-hot anger coursed through my veins all the fucking time. It was that or nothing unless I was with Gisele. Was I mad? If I let anger rule my every thought, I’d have burned down this world a long time ago.
“Nigga, of course, I’m fucking mad. Show me a Black man in this day and age that ain’t walking around without anger in his heart? But I…shit, I’ve been struggling. Even before my father’s death, shit wasn’t feeling right.” I drove my fist into my chest, the pressure not enough to calm the fast beating.
Moses stood up from one of the chairs in front of my desk and leaned closer to me.
“We been here, my man. We know you been struggling, but you’re not on your own. That’s a lesson we can’t teach you.” He shook his head, sitting back down. His hands, though, remained open, sitting on my desk.
Without thinking, I reached out and shook one of them, his solid grip matching mine. The burning behind my eyes increased until the only thing that alleviated it was tears.
Moses’ grip tightened, then a comforting pressure settled on one of my shoulders and I looked up to find Pedro’s hand holding me.
“We got you. We gonna figure this out however we need to. This club is our home and you are our brother. You’re not alone, you’ve never been,” Pedro said.
The weight of the world had always rested on me since I was a teenager. I never stopped to question why; I took it as my due in life. But somehow I’d missed the fact that through my brothers, through my friends, I’d been blessed with ways to share the burden. Lessons came to you every day, you just had to be ready to receive them.
I was ready to receive them today; I was ready to let things change. The urge to follow Gisele to her room and fuck her until we forgot our names had been hard to contain, and her walking away awakened something in me.
Now I had to process what this all meant for me, for her, for the club.
“Not gonna lie, this shit feels low-key exciting,” I said after I let my brothers shoulder the burden with me.
“This nigga… How is this shit exciting?” Pedro asked.
“Are you surprised? This is the man that learned fireplay by practicing on himself,” Moses reminded us. With a final grasp he let go of my hand, and Pedro patted my shoulder and stepped back.
“Listen, I might still be in my feelings, but never forget, I am that man.”
“Yo! Niggas get sentimental one time and they bounce back even more annoying—a tragedy,” Pedro said, the fucker making things lighter just when I needed it.
Urgent knocking stopped our laughter. Pedro opened the door and Deacon busted in, his eternal smirk directed at me for a change.
“Yo, Q, you wanna come outside and see this.” He dapped up Pedro, Moses, and me, then chuckled.
“What’s up, D? What do you know that I don’t?”
