Chasing Bliss (3 page)

Chase and Cyrus played a silent game of tug-of-war with Corey. Cyrus held tremendous sway
over their younger brother, and while Corey idolized both of them, it seemed to Chase that Corey
held everything that fell out of Cyrus’s mouth to his ear, like it was a lump of gold. Cyrus spread
around a lot more coal than gold, though, and Chase always made it his business to make the
easily-influenced Corey see whatever Cyrus had to say in a starker light.

Most of the time, Corey listened to him. Sometimes, though, he’d wave him off and point out
Chase’s own shortcomings. If he looked all the way to the end of the road, Chase could see how
this story was going to play out, and he didn’t like it one bit. However, Chase chose to live his life
day by day, and
today,
he was still captain of his own destiny.

Chase slouched in the large leather chair behind his fancy teak wood desk in his office at Cream,
with his eyes closed. He was brooding hard at this chain of thought.

The door was thrown open unceremoniously, and Delia Montgomery sashayed into the room,
yelling at him and smelling like flowers. “Chase, what the hell is wrong with you, sittin’ up in here
in the dark in the middle of the day?”

Chase opened his eyes and watched her as she did her sexy, slinky, strut across the room in four-
inch heels. Delia was wearing a white dress with tiny red flowers; it looked like she’d been poured
into it. The straps that held it up were pretty gathers of wispy cloth, but it dipped low in the back
to show off her sexy, well-formed shoulders.

Delia went to the window and let up the wooden blinds, and sunlight flooded the room. “I can’t
believe you! It’s two in the afternoon. You ain’t a vampire. Now get your ass up!” Delia wasn’t
a large woman, but she had a great big voice—a raspy whiskey voice that Chase found very
appealing.

Chase squinted at the light and shielded his eyes with his hand. He sat up in his chair and looked
at the view. Delia was standing with her back to him, twirling the rod that opened the blinds.

Chase smiled to himself. He liked to watch Delia when she thought he wasn’t paying her any
mind. Dee was a good-looking woman. Chase eyed her now, standing with her legs apart, twirling
that stick. Her ass and her full breasts jiggled enticingly. Her calves and thighs were firm and
inviting.

She turned and faced him, putting her hands on her shapely hips. The sunlight washed across
her face and lit up her tawny skin. She had a light dusting of freckles across her nose and light
brown eyes. Her rich auburn hair was done up in a purposely messy upsweep, and the sun glinted
off its subtle hints of gold. Any way you cut it, Delia Montgomery was fine as hell, even if she was
fifteen years older than Chase.

“When are you gonna learn how to knock, Dee?” Chase asked, a slow smile creeping across
his lips.

She gave him a sultry smile of her own and sat on the corner of his desk, very near his right
elbow. The warm, flowery scent of her filled his nostrils in a seductively pleasant way. Chase sat
back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest to keep from reaching out and touching her,
though his fingers itched to do it.

Dee crossed her legs and looked down at his crotch like she was taking a picture. She looked
back up at his face and batted her eyelashes at him. “What am I knocking for? You in here gettin’
to know yourself a little better?”

Chase laughed as his eyes ran the length of her smooth brown legs. “I bet you’d love to see
that
.”

She touched his knee with her ankle and then took it away. Chase licked his lips as she leaned
forward and gave him a generous view of her cleavage. “I sure would, honey. Are you gonna get
started right now?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Chase frowned and laughed. “Damn, Dee. If
I didn’t know you better, I’d think you wanted me.”

She laughed her throaty laugh. “I do, but you won’t let me have you. You must have something
against older ladies.”

Chase stood and laughed again, walking to the window. “Keep it up, Dee, and I
will
have
something against an old lady.”

Delia chuckled softly. “You talk big, Chase, but you never back it up.”

He grinned at her charmingly. “You know I love you, Dee.”

Dee had been Chase’s “Girl Friday” since he’d been in business, and he would have been lost
without her. She handled his affairs above and beyond the call of duty, always with an iron fist.
She put a lot of effort into keeping him successful. Chase adored her in more ways than one. It was
a mutual feeling that they never acted on, no matter how much or how hard they flirted with each
other. Chase refused to see what he’d worked so hard to build crumble to the ground because of
someone’s fickle feelings—hers or his own.

That was why he was so loath to touch her or stay too close. Too much contact, and they’d both
be smoking cigarettes and basking in the afterglow. He knew it was a tried and true way to end a
beautiful friendship and a lovely and profitable working relationship.

Delia got up and walked over to him, her hands on her hips and her eyes looking at him with
mild concern. “Yeah, I know you love me, honey. I love you too. It’s not like you to be sitting
here in the dark like that unless something’s bothering you. Come on, baby. Tell Mama what’s the
matter.”

Chase rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “I’d lie to you, Dee, but you’d know
it. I was just thinkin’ about my brother.”

Her eyebrow shot up in a curious arch. “Which one?”

Chase laughed without a great deal of humor. “Both of ‘em…but mostly Cyrus.”

Dee made a face. “You have my sympathies, baby.”

Chase smiled at her. “Don’t like Cyrus much, do you?”

Delia shrugged and looked totally unconcerned. “There’s no love lost between me and that man.
He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him…and I know you ain’t crazy about him either, brother or
not.”

Chase looked at her carefully, but he didn’t lose his smile. “I feel you, Dee, but Cyrus is still
my flesh and blood.”

Dee pursed her lips and went into I-don’t-give-a-shit mode. “So what? Being your brother does not entitle
him to come around here and put his foot on your neck, and it doesn’t mean you have to let him just because he
is. Come on, Chase. This is me. I know your business, and I know his no-good ass is the reason people call you
Smoke.”

Chase’s smile evaporated. She was absolutely right. People called him that because everybody
knew he’d smoke someone’s ass. He wasn’t particularly fond of the nickname, but it was true.

The look on her face softened, and she laid a hand on his arm. “Stop letting him control you,
sugar. You’re worth much more than what he reduces you to.”

Chase was well aware that Delia knew what role he played for his big brother. She made it her
business to know just about everything that went on in his life, and she protected him fiercely. Even
if she wasn’t aware of it, she was about the only person on Earth whom he trusted that much. He
always thought that if his fate were ever hanging in the balance, he’d rather Dee be at the controls
than Cyrus…or even Corey. “Maybe I’m not worth as much as you think,” he said.

Dee smiled and patted his bicep. “Yes you are
.
Look around. Look how successful you are on
your own, without that fool. You don’t need Cyrus, Chase.”

He looked at the floor and sighed deeply. “Yeah, but he’s my brother, Dee.”

“Like I said before, so what? What are you trying so hard to stay in his favor for?”

Chase looked at his watch and was startled to see how much time had gotten away from him. He
had to meet Cyrus, and he was going to be late. “We gotta have this conversation later, Dee.”

She frowned and then gave him a knowing smile. “Where are going, Chase? You planning on
giving some of my sugar away?”

He smiled at her and headed for the door. “I wish. Gotta meet Cyrus.”

Dee frowned again. “Chase, don’t let him—”

Chase laughed and walked out the door. “Bye, Dee.”

He and Corey were supposed to meet Cyrus at a café down on Little West Twelfth Street. Chase
really wasn’t in a hurry, so he took his time getting there, just because he knew it would piss Cyrus
off. He wondered what Cyrus wanted; he hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was.

Chapter 2

W
hen Chase walked into the café, Cyrus and Corey were already there, laughing and talking
over drinks. Chase joined them, glad to see Corey—glad to see them both, really—but
he remained guarded with Cyrus. “What’s good?” he asked and sat opposite Cyrus with Corey
between them.

Cyrus grinned and put his drink down. “What’s up, Smoke? You got no love for your
brothers?”

Chase stood and gave them the expected one-shoulder hug.

“That was a little weak. You feelin’ all right, Chase?”

Before Chase could answer, Corey did it for him. “He thinks you want a favor. Can’t you tell?
He’s all tight and quiet and shit.”

Cyrus signaled for the waiter and looked at both his brothers with a gracious smile. “You would
think I ask for one all the time. That’s not what we’re here for today, so relax, Smoke.”

Chase slumped in his seat so Cyrus and Corey wouldn’t notice his shoulders dropping in relief.
Whew.
Now he could actually sit back and enjoy their company and have a meal with them without
getting a serious case of heartburn.

The waiter stopped at Cyrus’s elbow, and Cyrus looked at Chase. “You drinkin’, Smoke?”

“Yeah. Give me a
Rémy
straight up,” he said to the waiter and then turned his attention back to
Cyrus. “So what’s up, Cyrus? It’s been a minute since I saw your ass in broad daylight.” Cyrus
laughed amiably, and Corey followed suit.

“You know Cyrus is a night owl, Smoke. Negro’s like a goddamn vampire.”

Chase smiled and shrugged, mentally noting that they’d both called him Smoke, so something
had
to be up, even though Cyrus said otherwise. He nodded in Corey’s direction. “Yeah? Well, you
must be one, too, Corey, ‘cause I ain’t seen your ass either.”

Corey looked at him sideways. “I would’ve hollered sooner, but me and Cyrus been workin’ on
somethin’.”

The waiter dropped off Chase’s drink, and Chase picked it up and took a sip. “Something like
what? Y’all plannin’ a takeover? Need somebody greased?”

Cyrus rolled his eyes in exasperation and then looked at him impatiently. “See? This is what I
mean, Corey. You never know who you’re gonna get with this nigga. His ass is always irritated. If
he ain’t in straight-up bitch mode, he’s pissin’ and moanin’ about shit in the past. Why can’t he just
leave all that snide shit at home and have a decent dinner with his family?”

Corey laughed and pushed his chair back a little. “Uh-uh, Cyrus. You wanna talk to Chase, talk
to him. Don’t talk at
him
through me. I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ y’all and your bullshit.”

Chase glanced at Corey and then looked at Cyrus. He felt anger building in him, forcing his jaw
to clench and his fists to curl, but he held it in. “It ain’t
my
bullshit, Corey.”

Corey took his cell phone out and stood up. “I got a couple of calls to make. When I get back,
it would be nice to see y’all holdin’ hands and singin’ songs.” He walked away, leaving Chase and
Cyrus sitting there, just staring at each other.

Cyrus leaned back in his seat and regarded Chase for a long moment before he spoke. “You
know, Chase . . .” Cyrus leaned forward with his elbows on the table, talking to him like he was a
small, petulant, child. “Sometimes we all gotta do shit we don’t want to do. It’s kinda like when
Mama gave us castor oil. Sometimes it’s hard goin’ down, but the end result is a beautiful thing.
Know what I mean?”

Chase smiled at his brother but narrowed his eyes. “Beautiful for who, Cyrus?”

Cyrus returned his smile and shrugged. “You know when anything benefits me, it benefits you
and Corey too.”

“I don’t need your damn money. I don’t need your protection either. Sometimes I get the feeling
that a lot of people are scared of you because they’re scared of me. Don’t you?”

Cyrus laughed. “I don’t really give a shit
why
they’re scared, Smoke, as long as they
stay
fucking
scared.”

Chase sipped his drink and complained, “Got people callin’ me Smoke and shit? That’s fucked
up, Cyrus.”

“They’ve been callin’ you that for years, little brother. They probably don’t even know why it’s
your name.”

Chase frowned. “It’s not my fuckin’ name. It’s some shit you started callin’ me. You ain’t right, Cyrus. You
should do your shit yourself instead of handing me your dirty work.”

“I can’t do work like that, Chase. I’d be in jail in two days. I’m nowhere near as neat as you.”
He paused and chuckled. “Picture that. That’s some real funny shit, Chase.”

Chase narrowed his eyes and finished his drink. “What if
I
get caught, Cyrus? What then? Or
do you even care?”

Cyrus gave him his best big-brother look. “Course I do. If that ever happens—which I seriously
doubt—you don’t got no worries. You know I got your back,
Smoke
.”

Chase looked at him with undiluted skepticism. “You
got
me, Cyrus? What? You gonna do my
bid for me?”

Cyrus attempted to brush him off like he was tripping. “Why are you always going this route
with me, Smoke? Why are you stuck on the subject? It’s like it’s all you ever think about?”

Chase looked at him coldly. “It takes up a decent part of my day. Look, Cyrus, I got a lot to lose.
I’m a businessman. I shook all that illegal shit off a long time ago.”

Cyrus gave him a dark, satisfied smile. “Not quite, Smoke.”

Chase’s mouth dropped open just a bit, and he looked away from Cyrus. He wanted very badly
to just ask him, right out, what he really had planned for him if he decided he wasn’t going to be his
own personal assassin anymore, but something kept him from asking the question. He suspected
he was just afraid of the answer he might get.

Cyrus reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. “You’re my brother, Chase. You and
Corey and me gotta stick together. You understand me?”

Chase pulled his hand away. “I heard what you said.”

Cyrus smiled. “Yeah, but do you
understand
me?”

Chase didn’t look at him. “I said I heard you.”

Corey returned and sat down. He looked first at Chase, then at Cyrus. “I don’t hear no singin’.
Y’all still fightin’?”

“There’s no fighting—just a difference of opinion. Smoke is stubborn as hell,” Cyrus said.

“Did you tell him yet?” Corey asked.

“Tell me what?” Chase really wasn’t interested in whatever Cyrus had to say. He’d shown up
like he was supposed to, and now he just wanted to be gone.

“I was thinking of starting a legitimate business,” Cyrus said.

This piqued Chase’s interest. “Legit? For real? You gettin’ out of the game?”

Cyrus laughed. “Come on, Chase. You know me. I’ll probably never get all the way out of the
game. There’s too much money to be made in it. I’m just thinking of branching out, that’s all.”

“What kind of business?” Chase asked, wondering what all of it had to do with him.

“A club—something like your Cream maybe.”

“Yeah. And we already got the property,” Corey added. Chase smiled and shook his head. Cyrus
wasn’t a complete idiot, but the idea that he would try to make a serious attempt at running a place
like that was laughable to him. It would probably go under in six months.

“What’s funny?” Cyrus asked.

“Nothing. Good luck with your, uh, business.”

Cyrus smiled himself and fixed his eyes on him. “I don’t need luck, Chase. I need you.”

Chase laughed. “Me? What for?”

“You got experience running something like this. I don’t.”

Chase’s smile became wry. “So why try?”

Something glittered in Cyrus’s eyes. “Why not?”

The waiter came and took their orders, but Chase declined.

“You’re not eatin’ with us?” Corey asked.

Chase looked at Cyrus. “No. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Cyrus stared at him for a moment and then sighed heavily. “All right, Chase. All right already! I
got resentment comin’ off you in waves. Forget I asked you to help me and Corey. I understand.”

Chase looked away, feeling the heavy hands of guilt and loyalty settling down on his
shoulders.

Cyrus turned to Corey. “Well, we already committed to the lease. We might as well get started.
I mean, I was hoping we’d get some help from Smoke, but it looks like we got his ass to kiss.” He
glanced at Chase, and Chase’s mouth turned down like he suddenly tasted something sour. “But
that’s all right. If he wants to forget his family…it’s all good. We’ll still love him, right?”

Corey looked from him to Chase and shook his head. “You know what, Cyrus? Maybe we can
go another way. Maybe we can hire somebody to get this thing off the ground, you know? It ain’t
no big deal.”

Cyrus blew breath between his teeth. “Yeah, at least not to Chase.”

“Come on, Cyrus. Ease the fuck up. If he don’t wanna do it, ain’t no use tryina force him. Just
leave him alone.”

Chase weighed the pros and cons in his head. If he helped Cyrus with his new little business
venture, which at least sounded legit, at the very least, he wouldn’t have to go through both of their
bullshit. For all he knew, maybe Cyrus’s club would have a chance at succeeding; if that happened,
Cyrus might stop hanging out at Cream, trying to sling his shit in Chase’s spot. Maybe, just maybe,
Cyrus and Corey would get so involved in running their own club that they’d turn over a new leaf.
It was farfetched, but it was a possibility—especially for Corey, because knowing Cyrus, he’d pass
off all the problems that came with running a place down to his baby brother. Maybe Chase would
finally wrest Corey from Cyrus’s influence.

“You want him left alone? Fine, it’s done. Smoke never remembers where his loyalties should
lie. He’d rather trust his own business to that bitch Delia, a fuckin’ stranger, than deal with his own
flesh and blood, and—”

Chase had had enough of their judgmental and self-serving bullshit. He picked up his butter
knife and threw it at Cyrus. It hit him in the chest and would have stuck if it had been a steak
knife.

Corey’s mouth dropped open in shock as Cyrus knocked the knife away reflexively, and outrage
took over his features. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Chase?
You tryin’ to stab me?
Your own
fuckin’ brother?” He was so upset that he was shaking.