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Oɱɳιʂƈιҽɳƚ Cσɳƚιɳυҽԃ...
It was well past 2 AM when Xaier finally returned to his place, the night at Noir weighing heavy on him. Despite the undeniably successful opening and the energy of the club, this stuff with Ivory gnawed at him for the whole night. Regardless of what he said, he wished he was with her, he wished he could celebrate this day with her, hold her, they could party and have a good time together while enjoying what he was building for their family.
Then he could take her home, surprise her with some gifts and he'd eat her til she passed out.
But it wouldn't happen, and all night he wasn't able to get rid of the feeling that the reason was likely mainly because of one person... and not him or her, but because of Jeremiah. Of course he had no real proof that Jeremiah was guilty of anything wrong, as far as X knew he was just a man interested in Ivy playing the good guy card so she could leave him and go to Jeremiah. There was something completely off about him though and X knew that.
He inserted himself into Ivory's life too seamlessly, too easy, and knew just the right moment to strike at and the right things to say. Xaier had seen and been through too much to know when something wasn't adding up, and Kash's intuition and her advice to him only gave him even more reason to doubt Jeremiah and his intentions with his wife.
X glanced at the clock—2:50 AM. It was late as hell but he couldn't just sit here, not with his gut telling him that something wasn't right. The sudden realization was hitting him like a ton of bricks and he had to get this shit figured out before it consumed him and drove him crazy. He already felt like he was going crazy.
Grabbing his phone, he quickly shot a text to Steven who he knew would be awake.
: I need you to come through. something ain't right.
No sooner had he sent the text than his phone buzzed with a reply.
Steven 🤓: Bet. On my way.
X place his phone down after that, knowing his friend would arrive in no time. He then opened the cabinet in his kitchen, grabbing an already opened bottle of hennessey, and poured himself a glass. He didn't bother with ice—didn't feel like it. Just straight liquor, something to burn through his system and kill the itch of uncertainty crawling up his spine.
He downed the first one quickly, then poured another, the amber liquid gliding smoothly into the glass. He leaned back against the counter, looking at the bottle for a second, and shaking his head with a sigh.
This was so lonely of him.
Xaier drained the rest of his drink in one go, feeling the burn slide down his throat. The warmth of the alcohol helped a little, but it wasn't enough. His mind was still racing. He knew that the only way he could get the answers he needed was to dig deep, way past the surface level.
