Page 22 of Grace

“You couldn’t possibly afford a multi-million dollar house on the salary of a laborer.”

“The average, no. My salary isn’t average, though. I have a company…”Damn. This is painful. Sharing could bring about trouble I didn’t need. “A shell company that…enables me to transition from a felon’s dark reality to my true life. Again, it’s layered. Even with acquiringRizzo’s Custom Homes, it had to be done strategically and took some time.”

“I bet. So, how were you able to pull that off?”

“With a team of talented and expensive ass lawyers and time. I’ve been ‘buying’ shares of the company from Rizzo for invisible pennies over the years until it was all mine on paper.”

“Why would he do that? Why you?”

My attention went out of the window. Honesty was some hard shit. I scratched the side of my face. “Me and Rizzo had some business back in the day, before I got locked up.”

“What kind?”

“Illegal shit I don’t wanna get into now. But he had a need and I took care of it for him. The expense of the deed was his business.”

Her eyes blossomed and Witherspoon sputtered, “Guns? You said that was your thing back then.”

I shook my head. “I never sold shit to Rizzo. This was deeper.”And not shit I’m gonna scare you away with. No fucking way.The details of the story implicated O.G. E Money Bags, and that would not be spilled by me.“And that’s all the sharing I need to do today.”

“Wait.” Her arms pushing over the table. “You got money when? Before or after prison?”

“Before. I didn’t stop getting money when locked down. It just slowed my opportunities. But I dabbled in investments like starter companies and real estate.”

Her head twisted and brows met. “How much money are we talking?”

“Not much.” I shrugged. “Enough.”

“How much is enough, Jas?” her tone was demanding. “Tens of thousands? Several hundred grand?”

“More.”

“Fuck, Jas! What’s more?”

“I had a few million before going down.”

The color left her damn face and my chest went tight. This was why I didn’t want to share. My story was delicate. I didn’t want Witherspoon carrying this shit.

Her eyes closed and I could tell she was attempting to control her breathing. “This is a lot.” Witherspoon took a deep, out-of-sync breath, scaring the shit out of me. “I don’t know you enough to know if you’re lying.”

“You’re right.” I reached for her hand. “That’s why we should stop right here. If we’re friends, we’ll spend more time getting to know each other. I just figured the job and house were things you’re now familiar with and a good place to get started.”

“There’s more?”

“Witherspoon…”

“You said more business.” She shook her head. “I know you’ve gotta go. I’m surprised they haven’t paged you yet for your appointment.”

“My session was yesterday. I don’t have one today.”

“But—” Her eyes circled. “When I texted you last night—”

“You said you had a session this morning and I told you I’ll wait for you at the coffee shop.”

“I’m sorry. I assumed…”

I lifted my baseball cap and scratched my scalp. “Yeah. You tend to do that a lot,” I mumbled while letting go of a heavy breath. “Juggy’s outside waiting. I’ll walk you to your ride.” That was my way of gently closing this conversation.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait!” She pumped her hands in the air. “Club Sin.” Shit. “Who owns that?” Witherspoon’s suspicious glare was on me hard. She followed each eye movement I performed, nose flared with contempt.

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