Trigger’s guards finally removed the ropes to let us in, but Zola didn’t walk in.
“No. York and I didn’t know anything about this.” She tilted her head close to my ear. “That’s why Trigger and I broke up. He never told me about the deal. He courted me normally, but to the record label, he pretended that I knew what was going on. He signed my name and had a fake lawyer deliver it to them on my behalf.”
Trigger’s at the top of my list now.
“I’d thought we were simply courting each other,” she continued. “We had some dates, but I wasn’t convinced on anything more. Before things became deeper, I ended it, and he cursed me out, explaining that this would ruin his career and I was bound to be with him in a contract.”
Sounds like a rejected stalker to me, out for revenge. Messing with his money would cause a lot of resentment. And her saying no would scratch at his ego.
Looking at the way naked women fed Trigger, I knew he hadn’t heard the word no a lot in his life. He probably thought Zola should’ve had more gratitude for him picking her.
“Interesting.” I guided us onto the stage.
Another throne sat next to Trigger. The rapper padded the red velvet cushion. “Zola, you look more beautiful than ever.”
“Thank you.” She sat down.
I leaned down to ask one more question. “How did you get this cigarettes contract again?”
“Through the record label. They came to York with the deal, thinking we knew what was going on.”
“And York wouldn’t ask too many questions for a three-million-dollar deal?”
“Pretty much.”
I rose and stepped behind her throne. The whole time, Trigger watched me with anger in his eyes. Cameras flashed around us. I was sure that glare at me would go viral by the morning. It was such small thing that could be made into a massive one, packed with tons of YouTube commentary and reaction.
What did the record label think about Zola and his public break up? They clearly didn’t try to fight her on breach of contract. Did he tell them what he did? Or is he working on getting her back?
Now on the stage, I took in the place more. Red decorated the other levels too. On this level, it was all black velvet and red lighting, polished marble floors, and cocaine on small glass tables. Trigger’s men snorted it up with rolled hundred-dollar bills. The guards stood in front of them when this occurred. Still, I was sure someone had caught it on the phone.
Stupid, wild, and young.
The rest of the tables in the space were black glass, stacked with bowls full of pills representing every color in the rainbow.
The music lowered around us. Trigger leaned Zola’s way, and I inched closer to them to hear their conversation.
“So, what’s up, Zola?” Trigger placed a crown on his head and winked at her. “I have a crown for you too.”
“Oh.” She looked at the gaudy thing in his hand as he tried to hand it to her. “You know what? My stylist told me I couldn’t put anything on my head.”
“Oh, word? I know. I know. Sistas don’t ever want to mess up their hair.” Trigger looked intensely. “But tell me this, Zola.”
“Okay.”
“How are sistas ever going to get a king to put a crown on their head if all they care about is not messing up their hair?” Cocaine dust powdered his nose. He clapped his friend’s hand. “You heard that deep shit, motherfucker? I need to put that line in a song, man.”
Another guy high-fived him even though I doubted he’d heard Trigger.
Zola crossed her legs and glanced back at me in embarrassment. Her gaze begged me not to judge. I shook my head to let her know I wasn’t here for that. Being in the security world and guarding high-level people, this shit show was on a low level. The more power, the less rational of a mind. It broke something in people to control things. The more they dominated, the more they crumbled inside.
Security hadn’t patted me down, so I assumed everyone else in the club had guns. I just doubted anyone could use one like me. That confidence gave me hope for Zola’s safety this evening.
I checked my watch, already bored. This was all fake and staged. Not many cared about shit on this stage—not cigarettes or music, just drugs and fucking.
That last word stuck with me.
Fucking.
“I’ve always wanted you.”
A silly grin came on my face. I pushed it away fast. No one feared a grinning bodyguard. There was no reason for the good feeling to pour over me. I damn sure shouldn’t have thought about what she’d said.
Still, her confession had my cock waking up.
Zola, Zola. Are you sure you want to take it there with me?