by Jahquel J.
“Baby, you always do this. It’s so cold out here,” Shakira, my fiancée complained as she tied her Versace robe around her slim thick body. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun as she came and put her arms around my waist and rested her face on my back. “How did you sleep last night, baby?”
“I slept like I do every night. Good.” I took her hand and placed it to my mouth.
I placed a kiss on top of her hand. An eight-carat diamond ring sat on her ring finger. I had proposed on a yacht off the coast of Greece on New Year’s Eve. Shakira had stuck with me throughout the years and she put in the work to earn this ring. I was sick of her father in my ear asking when I was going to make an honest woman out of his daughter. I wasn’t worried about taking the steps to getting married. Shakira had stuck it out all those years, but in all those years I never felt the need to put a ring on her finger. Between Shakira and her father, I knew I needed to do something to keep them both quiet. A ring would quiet her ass for at least two years, if not more.
“Good to know. I stayed up half the nice looking at this rock on my finger,” she flashed her ring then giggled. “I just want to be back on that yacht off the coast of Greece.”
“Back to reality, baby.” I kissed her on the forehead. “We took the holidays off, but now I need to show my face and get back to business.”
“I know.” she sighed. “The girls have dance class today. I was thinking I should take them this morning. I heard Marisol banging pots downstairs. Why does she have to be so loud?” Shakira complained about our nanny and housekeeper.
“You always have an issue with Marisol. I don’t want to hear it this morning, Kira. She’s probably got the girls up, so go and get their clothes ready for dance class,” I instructed her as I slapped her ass.
In ten years, I managed to become the top dog of Staten Island. This shit wasn’t handed to me, I took this shit by outworking everybody. While niggas were concerned with buying the newest whip and flaunting their money at the club, I was in the trap bagging my own product and driving my old ass 2002 Lexus with a bad transmission. I went from living in an apartment a few blocks from the projects to living in this mansion in the hills. I had the jewelry, property and cars. I remember sitting in the trap day in and day out telling myself that I would make it big. Shit was going to happen for me, and I was going to get my family up out the projects. It didn’t happen overnight, but long as it happened, I was good. Everything was happening for me and my name was the name that was ringing around Staten Island. I was the man to see if you wanted the best of the best or wanted to make some money. I was also the nigga that was feared. You didn’t get to be where I was by not doing some shit that would make a grown ass man piss his pants. Nothing moved around Staten Island without me knowing about it.
My phone buzzed and I slid my finger across the screen and held it up to my ear. “Yo.”
“Yerrr, what the fuck is up? You finally back in town with ‘yo stank ass!” My brother, Staten’s, loud ass voice boomed through the phone.
“You already know I had to take time off to spend with the girls and Shakira. Nigga, you better did the same.”
“With the fam? I don’t remember me, Mirror or mama being there. But, yeah, I did spend it with the family,” he confirmed.
I sighed because I knew he was about to come with that bullshit. The last thing I wanted to hear was about Shakira and how much everyone felt like she wanted me for herself. “I wanted to be there too. They got the gifts I sent? I promised Shakira that we would have some family time.”“Nigga, we’re your family too.”
“Mama would have turned down the invitation if I invited her. Both she and Mirror don’t even like Shakira, why would I invite them?”
“Nigga, you should have invited her so that she could turn it down. On the real, the shit really hurt when she saw Shakira’s parents on vacation with y’all. Doesn’t matter if she likes or dislikes Shakira, you’re her son and the girls are her grandchildren. You didn’t give her the chance to spend the holiday with y’all.”
“You’re right. I fucked up and I can admit that. I’ll make it up to her.”
“Plus, mama think she’s using you for your money anyway,” he made sure to add that in there.
My mother hated Shakira with a passion. She didn’t like anything about her and with us being together for nine years, she still hadn’t warmed up to the idea that she’s here for the long haul. When it came to my daughters, she loved them with all of her, but Shakira hated allowing them over there since she didn’t like her. The petty shit had been going on since each of my daughters had been born. I was tired of playing the middle man. Why couldn’t everyone just get the fuck along?
I sighed and rubbed my temple with my free hand. “How? I was broke when I started messing with her.”
“G, just because you like to think you were broke don’t mean it was true. Even though you were small time, you were still bringing in bread. Shakira knew exactly what she landed, especially when she got pregnant with Rain, then popped Summer out a few months later. She hit the jackpot.”
“Where the fuck is this coming from? You fuck with Shakira, Staten. What’s good with you?”
“Nah, I do like Shakira. I like her because she’s a hustler just like us. You need to go speak with mama. She’s pissed that you proposed to her and didn’t tell her. She had to find out from Mirror on social media.”
I hadn’t even made time to tell my family that I was engaged. I didn’t do the social media shit, so I knew Shakira probably had been flaunting that ring all around social media.
“Damn. I’ll make sure I make it over there today. How everything moving though?”
“Good. I’m bout to go fuck with this chick I had met on the block the other day. I’m bout to treat her to breakfast.”
“How many times I gotta tell you I don’t care about which chick you fucking for the week?” I laughed.
“Nigga shut the fuck up. I had to hear about every part of your fiancée’s new body. I don’t like to hear about no woman’s body unless I’m fucking them. Mama and Mirror kept talking about Shakira over Christmas dinner. The hate they have for that woman is real as fuck.”
“I bet. I’m bout to love on my baby girls and then I’ll meet you at the spot in an hour.”
“Bet. Kiss my nieces for me.”
“Got you.”
I ended the call and went to handle my morning hygiene and shower. After I finished taking a shower, I quickly dressed and put my jewelry on. “Babe, the girls are asking for you. We’re going to be leaving soon.”
“Damn already?”
“You took forever in the shower,” she laughed and kissed me on the lips. “They’re finishing their breakfast downstairs. I need to toss on some clothes and then we’re out.”
I grabbed her ass and planted a kiss on her forehead before heading downstairs. Shakira was one of those women that didn’t get blessed with a body. She had a flat chest, no ass and was shaped like a ruler, straight up and down. When she got pregnant with Rain, she got slightly thicker, but once she had her it all went away, and with Summer it did the exact same thing. She went from having something for me to grab, to flat Stanley. While other women would have been happy to be back to pre-baby weight, she was depressed. I knew she wanted her body done, so I fronted her the bread to have surgery. Her confidence was low, so I wanted to help build her up, even if that meant dropping close to a hundred thousand dollars.
“Good morning, Marisol,” I nodded my head at her.
“Morning, G. How are you today?”
“Same ‘ol, same ‘ol… You?”
“I’m good. Thank you again for giving me the time off for the holidays. I spent some time with my boys and the bonus helped me a lot too. Got ahead of some bills, so thank you!”
“Of course. How’s the boys doing? I haven’t seen them around here in a while.”
“Bad as hell, but they’re good. Ms. Ricci told me not to bring them to the house anymore,”
she informed me.
Marisol was around twenty-five and she tended to the house and cared for the girls. I hired her because she did her job well and made our lives easier. Shakira didn’t like her and every chance she got she would do shit to remind her that she was just the help. To me, Marisol was like family. I mean, she had to be damn near like family for me to trust her with my girls. She loved the girls like they were her own and never complained. Marisol had two kids of her own and I never got excuses why she couldn’t come to work. Shorty came to work, did her job and then went home. Shakira was convinced that Marisol wanted to fuck me and that was the furthest from the truth. I wasn’t worried about Marisol and Shakira needed to realize that. While she was being jealous, she was mistreating the woman who made it possible for her to flaunt her new body around Staten Island, instead of being with her kids.
Me and Marisol would kick it from time to time when I came into the kitchen, or if she was cleaning my office. We both knew struggle and could relate on that level. Shakira could never relate because she was raised having a silver spoon shoved into her mouth. Her father owned damn near every car dealership on Staten Island. Money was never an issue for her. She never had to watch her parents struggle to put food on the table. Me and Marisol did, so we bonded over that. Me and Shakira’s pops went into business years ago. First, it started off small and now we were doing decent for ourselves. The past three years we took some hits financially that I wasn’t too fond of. Her father knew our business relationship was coming to an end. Why would I continued to get money with him, when I owned a trucking company? I couldn’t afford to keep taking these hits because he was trying to be greedy and work with every hustler on Staten Island. He didn’t think I knew, but I did. I sat back because the profits we made doing business with him didn’t compare to what I was bringing in monthly. Yet, who would sit and lose money willingly? It was something I had to deal with soon.
When he told me how we could load up his cars being transported out of town, I was down. We had each car fitted with special compartments and shit was all sweet. Like they say, nothing last forever and this deal with Joseph was on its last leg. For as long as Shakira had been alive, her family provided for her. It was one of the reasons she walked around Staten Island like it owed her something. I was a nigga that didn’t involve business with personal, but I fucked up when I decided to take things further with Shakira.
“Daddyyyyyyy!” I heard my name being called and saw my daughters running right over to me. Rain was five and Summer was four. After Shakira had Rain, I was trying for my baby boy and out came Rain Davis, looking just like me. Rain and Summer were my entire heart. Everything I did was for them. Before they came along, I didn’t know who or what I was living for, but with them here, I knew what I was doing it for. I always moved smart, but with them, I moved ten times smarter because I knew I had to make it home to my girls.
“What’s up, daddy’s girls!” I bent down and allowed them to smother me with kisses.
Man, my girls were my world. I loved the shit out of them. Some nights I couldn’t sleep because I thought about what I would do if someone was to ever bring harm to them. Fatherhood did something to me, and I like to think it changed me for the good. Instead of shooting someone in the head, I tried to find reasons before resulting to violence. Staten liked to joke and say the girls made me softer, but nah, it made me realize everything didn’t have to end in blood shed. I knew one day all the things I did to get where I’m at would come back to haunt me, and I prayed my daughters never had to pay for my karma.
“Daddy, are you coming to dance class today?” Rain questioned. She stood there with her golden-brown hair pulled up in a bun, and her leotards on while sizing me up. Even her small hand was sitting propped up on her hip. She would be the spitting image of Shakira if she was bi-racial.
“Daddy has to work today. I tell you what, I’ll try to get home early so I can watch TV with you both before bed.”
“Yay!” Summer jumped up and down. Rain was still skeptical and unsure if she should get excited just yet. I hated that I hadn’t come through on a lot of plans because of work. I’ve missed birthday parties and little events because I was tied up with work.
Before she was able to protest, Shakira came downstairs. “Marisol, I need you to take the girls to dance class.”
“Ms. Ricci, I have to change all the bed sets and do laundry today,” Marisol informed her.
“And you’ll get to that later. Right now, you need to take the girls. I have something I need to handle.” She turned to me and smiled. “My roots are showing, and I need to go sit in Molly’s chair,” she referred to her best friend who owned a hair salon on New Dorp Lane.
“So important that you can’t take the girls to class? I feel Marisol, she got shit to do and don’t need to be taking the girls to class.”
“Your mother never answers the phone when I call. I tried to call and ask her if she could pick up the girls, but the phone keeps being clicked to voicemail. And, furthermore, I don’t give a damn about what Marisol has to do. This is her job,” she snapped, like she usually did when I took up for Marisol.
I sighed because Shakira was always doing some stupid shit like this. How the fuck was getting her roots done more important than taking the girl’s to dance class? “I’ll drop them by my mom’s crib. I gotta go over there anyway. She or Mirror will take them to dance.”
She kissed me on the lips and then cut her eyes at Marisol. “We pay her good, she should drop everything when I say something. Babe, I’m going to be your wife soon, things need to change. These people need to start taking me more seriously. I’m the mother of your children and soon to be wife.”
“Not right now, Shakira,” I sternly replied. She poked out her bottom lip before she bent down to kiss the girls goodbye. I watched as she grabbed the keys to the Ashton Martin and headed out the door without another word.
I didn’t doubt that Shakira loved the girls. I knew when it came to her and the girls, she came first. When we first met, she was selfish. Hell, when you’re single with no children you got a pass to put yourself first. Then after we had Rain, she continued with the selfish behavior. It was as if Rain was a doll and once she got older, she pushed her off to the nannies.
“Stupid hoe,” I heard Marisol mumble under breath as she finished clearing the breakfast dishes.
“Aye, that’s my fiancée you’re talking about,” I laughed, and she smirked. While Shakira liked to call Marisol a housekeeper, she was more than that. She was my homie too. I could always count on her to be real with me. She loved to throw in that she didn’t want to lose her job, as if she could ever lose her job with me. I didn’t care how much Shakira hated Marisol, she was who I trusted and would always have a job here with me.
“I’m sorry, G, you know how I feel about her. I only hold my tongue because I need this job and that’s your fiancée.” She sighed. “If you need me to bring the girls I can, I’ll stay late tonight to finish everything.”
“Nah, I got it. My mom is pissed she didn’t get to spend the holidays with the girls, so she’ll be happy to take them to class.”
“Well, she has a good reason to be pissed. I was surprised she didn’t come along for the vacation.”
“Not you too,” I sighed.
“I’m just saying, G. Make time for your mother while she’s still here. We only get two parents, so do right by them. She doesn’t like Shakira, so what? That shouldn’t stop you from spending time with your family or allowing the girls to go over there. Today Shakira was fine with your mom having them because she needed to do something, but other times she’s petty and likes to play games with your mom when she wants to spend time with them. It’s not right.”
I heard everything she was saying and sadly I agreed with her. “Stay in a housekeeper’s place,” I winked and smirked at her.
“You wish. I make this house a home for you. You wouldn’t be anything without me here.” She laughed.
“That may have some truth to it. Have a good day, Mari.”
“You do the same and please be safe,” she called behind me as I went to the foyer where the girls were pulling on their boots.
“I got you,” I replied. “Girls, grab your dance bags so we can head to Nana’s house.”
“Nana’s house? Why are we going to Nana’s house? Mommy sai—”
“I don’t care what Mommy said, Rain. We’re going to Nana’s and you guys are gonna spend time with her at dance class today.”
“Yay!” both girls screamed and ran to the mud room to grab their dance bags. While they were getting their bags, I went into my office to grab some cash out the safe and then headed over to my mom’s crib.
Midland Beach, Staten Island
Soon as I pulled into my mother’s driveway, the girls were already unbuckling their car seats and jumping out the car. They left behind their dance bags, so I scooped those up and walked up the stairs to my mother’s home. I bought my mama a house right across the street from the beach. She was five minutes from Staten Island university hospital and lived in a good ass neighborhood.
When I asked her where she wanted to live, she told me near the beach. My mother asked and she always received when it came to me. I did all this so I could provide for my family and give them any and everything they wanted. I wanted my family to have everything we had always wished for growing up. My moms worked three jobs just to provide for me and my siblings. When she wasn’t working, she was doing hair or any odd job to make more money. I watched a black queen make one dollar stretch all of our lives. She wanted to give us more, shit, I heard her pray to give us more. Our father wasn’t in the picture and she preferred it that way. He was married and their affair ended up making three children. She begged him to leave his wife and be a family with us and he refused. My mother wasn’t one to sit around and wallow in her own sorrow, so she did what she had to do to provide for her children, without my father.
“About time you showed up over here,” my mother sat at the kitchen table playing in Summer’s hair and kissing her on the forehead when I finally entered the house. “I feel like I haven’t seen my angels in so long.”
