King's Promise

“Oh? Is that right?” Jeremy laughed.

“That’s right. Look it up in the dictionary. You’ll see my picture in there.”

While the two cousins argued and goaded each other as to who was the better player, neither of them noticed when the hostess waltzed back by the table, leading another party to their table, and very slyly slipped her number next to Xavier’s silverware.

Xavier caught the slick move, picked up the scrap of paper, looked at it and then tucked it into his black jeans with a smirk. Old school, new school—there was nothing like just being the best school. “Will you two knuckleheads shut up and get back to telling me how much of a genius I am with all the new renovations?”

That stopped the argument long enough for them to flash him a get-over-yourself look.

“What? That is why we came here, isn’t it? To celebrate my genius?”

“Frankly, I just tagged along for the free meal,” Jeremy said.

“Free?” Q frowned. “The only thing free, cuz, was the ride over here. That fancy new renovation job is coming out of my pocket.”

Xavier shrugged. “You’re the one that wrecked the place.”

“When I said I would pay for the damages, I was thinking a few tables and chairs. I didn’t think that you’d go buck-wild and gut the place.”

“Maybe next time you’ll be a little more specific,” Xavier said with absolutely no remorse.

“Does that mean you’ll pay for renovations in the Los Angeles club?” Jeremy asked, since he managed that location.

“Hell to the no!” Quentin said, twisting his face. “What do you think I am—First National Bank?” Then, suddenly, he closed his eyes and groaned.

Xavier frowned. “What’s up with you?”

Q shook his head. “I sounded like my father just now.”

Xavier and Jeremy exchanged looks and busted out laughing.

Quentin and his father’s contentious relationship had been gossip fodder for family members over the years. Roger Hinton, perhaps the most successful man in the family tree, built his fortune in commercial real estate and computer technology in the early eighties, and was one of only a handful of African-American billionaires. Brilliant in business, he’d raised two sons who were equally ambitious and nearly as successful in their own right. Then there was his third son, Quentin, who by all accounts until recently showed an almost violent allergic reaction to the very thought of holding a job.

After much back and forth, disinheritance, bribery and being swept back into the family’s good graces, the one business that Q invested in—The Dollhouse—had made him rich in his own right. Brilliant or lucky? Most of the family decided it was luck. Xavier thought it had more to do with his own brilliance.

True, his older brother Eamon already owned The Dollhouse in Atlanta and he was content to keep it a small club while he fiddled with the idea of opening a restaurant until Xavier saw its true potential, and expanded the operation by capitalizing on a niche market—bachelor-party planning—and launched Bachelors Adventures. The concept was simple, and Xavier saw an opportunity to capitalize on an underserved market. Sure, any strip club could host a bachelor party. But not many catered to fantasy-driven bachelor parties, complete with themes and costumes—if that’s what you wanted.

A bachelor party was a rite of passage. It was a big deal, and since it would be in poor taste to have a wake the night before a wedding, most men felt they deserved to party one last time like a rock star. There was no event too small or too big that Bachelors Adventures couldn’t make happen. That simple business concept and the power of an influential word-of-mouth campaign is what really put The Dollhouse on the map, and not only made them serious contenders in their industry but solidified their reputation as Kings.

“Hello, gentlemen. My name is Sasha and I’ll be your waitress for the evening. Are you ready for me to take your drink orders?”

They quickly put their conversation on pause and turned their attention to an extremely petite red-bone sporting short, natural hair in spiral twists. Her black-rimmed glasses gave her a studious look and her bright-white smile was warm and inviting.

“Three Heinekens,” Xavier ordered for everyone.

Sasha quickly scribbled it down and then asked whether they were ready to order food. Once they’d selected their entrées, she took their menus and promised that everything would be ready in a few minutes. Of course, when she walked away, they gave her retreating figure another look.

“How about double or nothing,” Quentin asked.

Xavier rolled his eyes. “I think you need to put your dick on a shorter leash.”

Q’s face twisted in horror. “Why in the hell would I want to do that? The happier he is, the happier I am.”

Xavier’s brows lifted. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

Clearly, Q had because he immediately started shifting around in his chair.

Sasha proved to be good at her job and quickly returned with their beers, setting their bottles down in front of them. “Your food will be right up.”

The men flashed her quick smiles as they reached for their beers and returned to their conversation.

“So what do you think of the spanking-new bartender you hired today?” Quentin asked, seemingly having tired of arguing with Jeremy.

Xavier leaned back in his chair and gave the question some serious thought. “She’ll certainly make things interesting.”

“I’ll say,” Q responded, reaching for his beer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cock-block so hard in my life.”

“Please.” Xavier gave a halfhearted laugh and rolled his eyes. “If anything, I was trying to prevent you guys from embarrassing yourselves and scaring the woman.”

Neither his brother nor his cousin looked like they bought that load of crap.

Jeremy was the first to call him on it. “Please. You were throwing so much shade that I thought we were in the middle of a cave. But that’s all right. I’m gonna let it go. But only because I’m heading back to Los Angeles tomorrow and you know how I feel about long-distance relationships.”

Quentin laughed. “Yeah. The same way you feel about all relationships. You don’t do them.”

Jeremy bobbed his head along with the joke, mainly because it was true—for all of them. In their world, marriage was a dying institution. Who needed a piece of paper? Life was meant to be lived and enjoyed—the less drama, the better. And if there was one thing that all three men at the table agreed upon, it was that relationships ultimately involved a whole lot of drama.

“Frankly,” Jeremy said. “Business has more than doubled at our L.A. club, so we might want to look into expanding some more.”

“In a down economy?” Xavier asked.

Quentin laughed. “Our business is recession-proof.”

Xavier conceded the point. “Maybe I’m not feeling it because I’ve been renovating for a hot minute. All I’ve been doing is writing checks.”

“There’s still revenue from Bachelors Adventures coming in,” Q reminded him. “You’ve been on top of your game keeping those parties going at local hotels and other venues.”

“True that.” Xavier nodded. “I have this Lawrence of Arabia one coming up with this big-wig CEO out of New York. We’re blowing up off word of mouth.”

Q shrugged. “The old-fashioned way of doing business.”

“We may have to look into expanding into New York, too,” Jeremy interjected.

Q and Xavier frowned.

“What?” Jeremy shrugged. “If there’s money to be made and our hustle is strong, what’s the problem?”

“There is such a thing as growing too fast, you know?” Quentin warned.