by Jahquel J.
“Yeah, it’s been a while. We’ve been busy. I’ll tell Shakira to bring them around more often.”
“Tell her to stop playing games with me. The babies have nothing to do with my personal feelings toward her. She uses them against me because I don’t like her.” She said the same thing that Marisol had said before I left the house.
“I hear you, mama. I’m gonna get on her case about that shit too. You know I always want the girls to spend as much time as they can with you.”
“And then you go get engaged and I have to find out on the damn internet. Gyson, that was low. Even for you.” She cut her eyes at me.
“Ma, you had to know that it was going to happen. Me and Shakira been together for years and now have two kids together. What you thought she was gonna be my baby mama forever?”
“Hmph, I still feel like you’re going through a midlife crisis or something. Yes, even after being with her for nine years I didn’t expect you to give her your last name.”
“Why is everyone acting so shocked that I proposed. That’s what comes next when you’re in a relationship?”
“I’m not shocked that she got you to propose to her. That woman has been gunning for that damn label for years. I’m just shocked that you fell into that damn trap.” I sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. I held the girl’s dance bags in one hand and my mother’s eyebrows went up. “Let me guess… you need me or Mirror to drop them off to dance class, huh?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Where’s their mother?”
“She had to go get her hair done.” The shit sounded even dumber with me saying it out loud. My mother snickered and took the dance bags out of my hands. “I can take them, but I need to go handle some business with Staten today.”
“Why is Rain in my make-up?” Mirror came out the room holding a red tube of lipstick and Rain had lipstick smeared all over her lips.”
“Rain, what I tell you about red? Fresh girls wear red lipstick and nail polish,” my mother reminded her. She had told Mirror the same thing when she was their age. It was something about the color of red lipstick and nail polish that set black women off.
“I guess I’m a fresh girl, huh mama?” Mirror laughed and my mother cut her eyes and then smiled.
“I can’t stand your ass. You’ve been thinking you’re fresh since you became legal,” my mother swatted Mirror’s butt as she walked further into the kitchen.
It seemed like my twelve-year-old sister grew up overnight. It was like she was the baby of the family, then she turned into this grown ass woman who did what she wanted. I was still protective of my sister and niggas knew not to fuck with her, so there were limitations to the shit she could do around the island. For the most part, Mirror walked around with her head held high. When niggas saw the chrome 2019 Lexus pull into the hood, they knew not to even look her way. You could take the girl out the hood, but not the hood out the girl. Mirror still had friends that lived in the hood, so she frequented it more than I liked. Still, I had my niggas keep an eye on her soon as her foot touched down in Stapleton projects.
“Why you over here, soup head?” she mushed me.
“I need you to do me a favor. Can you take the girls to dance class?”
She blew her cup of coffee and pursed her lips. “Oh, fiancée ain’t around? She probably doing some shallow shit like getting her nails done instead of tending to her kids,” she rolled her eyes. It was crazy how much my sister and mother knew about Shakira and hadn’t been in the same room as her in over a year. Shakira was shallow as fuck and even they knew the shit. “Why you even in love with her, Gyson? She’s not even the type of woman you would have gone for.”
“Rain and Summer go upstairs to your room for a second. Auntie and Nana needs to speak to daddy,” my mother told the girls. They kissed their grandmother before heading upstairs to do exactly as she said.
“On the real, you both need to stop talking shit about Shakira in front of the girls. They’re not babies anymore and know when you’re speaking on their mother. I already know you both don’t care for her, but she’s still their mother and means the world to them.”
“Why did you have to go and bring home a white girl?” Mirror bluntly questioned. They both acted like I just met and got engaged to Shakira. She was fucking white when I met her all those years ago. “We don’t even mesh well with her family at all. You could tell they like you because you have money but would have rather her be with an Italian man,” she continued like I hadn’t said a word.
“I don’t give a fuck what her family feels or would rather. At the end of the day, I control what the fuck goes on in my house.”
“You know what? Take your own kids to dance class,” Mirror grabbed the keys to her car and headed toward the door. “I got to get my nail color changed anyway.”
“The both of you need to calm down. Mirror come your butt back here,” my mother called for Mirror.
“Mama, I really do have an appointment, but I’m done having this conversation with his hard-headed, meatball-shaped head.”
“Then stop fucking having it!” I barked.
This shit made me so pissed that I lost sleep at night because of it. My mother and sister meant everything to me. I wanted them to be a part of my life that I was building with Shakira. I hated that Shakira didn’t like them and they didn’t like her. The girls would never experience holidays spent with all of their grandparents in the same room because of the beef these three had going on.
“Say no more,” Mirror said and headed out the door. We heard her start the car and pull out of the driveway.
“You really need to calm down, Gyson. You’ve never yelled at Mirror like that, even when she deserved it.” My mother was right. Mirror was my baby girl until I had kids of my own. She could never do wrong in my eyes. Even when she was wrong, I never barked at her the way I just did.
“I’m sick of being in the middle of this shit with the three of you. Only three people hurt with you all beefing; me and the girls. I feel like I need to pick sides and the girls don’t get to see you when Shakira’s in her feelings.”
“Maybe you should speak up. You are their father.”
“You don’t think I do? I’m sick of being the bad guy in every fucking situation. Shit, I can’t win for losing with the both of you.”
“Baby, I would love for you to be with a woman that truly makes you happy. I can see beyond that smile you put on that you’re not happy, and you haven’t been in years.” I was about to cut her off and she held her hand up. “However, if this is the life you want to choose for yourself, I will shut my mouth and play nice, so I am allowed the time with my grandbabies.”
“Ma, I get Shakira gets petty and doesn’t allow them over here, but you’re acting like they never come over.”
“Yeah, only when you need me to do something for them. I can’t remember the last time that they came over for a weekend or when they’re out of school. They’re always at their other grandparents’ house when school is out on recess or something.”
“You already know how Shakira is. I have to respect that she doesn’t feel comfortable with them staying over here, even if I don’t agree with the shit.”
“Oh, but she feels fine now? She called me this morning and I ignored her call. She’s comfortable now because she wants to get her hair done. It’s bullshit.” My mother stood up and went to take her medicine. My mother had Type 2 diabetes and she had to take a series of medicine every morning to regulate her blood sugars.
“I promise I’m gonna talk to her and a lot of shit is going to change. Even if she doesn’t agree, but I need you and Mirror to meet me halfway too.”
“I told you I will keep my mouth shut. You know I love the girls more than anything and will do anything when it comes to them.”
“That’s all I ask,” I replied. “Since we didn’t take a family vacation together, I’ll have my travel agent pull some things together for a trip soon.”
“S
ounds relaxing. Will the girls come?”
“Of course. I’ll tell Shakira we’re going on a family vacation. She’ll be pissed but will get over it.”
“You can bring her along. I wouldn’t want your fiancée to feel left out,” my mother smiled. “I’m taking them to lunch after dance class. I’ll be sure to drop them home when we’re done,” my mother continued.
“Appreciate it, mama. You know I love you.”
“Not as much as I love you and your siblings.”
“Okay.” I kissed my mother before calling the girls down to kiss me goodbye. I would get up with Mirror soon and talk to her one on one. I knew she was pissed and would ignore my damn calls for the next week or so.
It didn’t take me long to make it to New Brighton. I had trap houses all over Staten Island. All the traps brought in money, but this is the one that housed all the money. We never served anyone out of this house. It was located on a dead-end street on Tilden. The house was a gray stucco one family detached home. It didn’t look like a trap house because that’s where niggas got caught. If it looked like a duck and walked like a duck, it was a duck, right? Why the fuck would I make any of my traps look like one? It called too much attention to the DEA and I didn’t need those issues. Half my traps weren’t even allowed to have much foot traffic and the addicts were to meet in different locations. My whole operation wasn’t about to be brought down because a DEA agent offered a crackhead ten dollars to drop the dime on me. Nah, I didn’t work this hard to go out like that.
My goal was to be the Bill Gates of the fucking drug world. I invented shit that niggas wished they could. I had a trucking company that was moving weight all over the country, a car delivery service for my white customers who were too uppity to come to the hood. It was called the G line. I had twenty cars and young niggas driving to deliver the product. Each car had hidden compartments so if they were ever pulled over, nobody would find the drugs.
I didn’t have just any niggas driving, I had college students who needed the extra money. My young niggas were too reckless to drive for the G line. They would be a prime target for cops to pull over. Nobody was pulling over a college student unless they had a busted taillight or some shit like that. Besides the trucks and G line, I was also still getting money with Shakira’s pops transporting cars and drugs at the same time. I had a bunch of legal businesses all over Staten Island too. Not to mention, I had a shit load of investment properties throughout the city. When it came to getting the bag, I was getting it in all aspects of life.
When I pulled up to the trap, I had already spotted my brother’s Tesla parked out front. I pulled into the narrow driveway and entered from the back. When I entered, Staten was in the fridge looking for something to eat. The inside of the house was set up like a regular house. The furniture was all new and it smelled of apple cinnamon. The tattered-up furniture in busted ass trap houses was too cliché for me. If I wanted to make money, I had to spend money. I expected my soldiers to stay in these houses for days at a time, so why would I make them stay in some dirty shit? We had a state-of-the-art security alarm and cameras were planted everywhere, some you couldn’t spot with the naked eye. I kept a close eye on everything that I put money into and so did Staten.
“Thought shorty was feeding you breakfast in bed?” I chuckled and took a seat at the marble table.
“Nah, nigga. I said I was providing the breakfast. I provided the dick and she provided her jaws,” he laughed and grabbed a bottle of water of the fridge. “Damn, you stopped having Marisol come through to stock the fridge? Last few times I’ve came ain’t shit been here.” Marisol probably suspected that I was involved in illegal tender, but I never denied or confirmed it. She came to all the houses to stock the pantry and fridge, but thought they were just Air BnBs I had all over the Island.
“Nah, last time she came through these niggas couldn’t contain themselves. I gotta have her come through when these niggas not here or something.”
“Marisol fine as fuck. I don’t know how you allow her to work in your crib and not bend that juicy ass over a counter and fuck the shit outta her.”
“Nigga, that would be sexual harassment and I’m her fucking boss. This is the exact reason why she’s not allowed to clean your condo.”
“Oh, but you allow her to work for Priest. You see how you do me so wrong?”
“Priest has common sense, you don’t. Case closed.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He waved me off. “What we gotta handle today? I already know you don’t like driving, so you might as well have one of these niggas pull your whip into the garage so we can bounce.”
“Fuck you. The only reason I drove was because I had to drop the girls to Mama’s crib. Me and Mirror kind of got into it.”
“She’ll get over the shit. They gotta stop blaming you for the decisions you make in your life, no matter how stupid they are.” He laughed and tossed the water bottle into the trash bin. “Now, where we going?”
“I gotta check on the houses over in Tottenville, check on a few of the businesses and see if I could get lined up before heading back home.”
“Yeah, I need one too. Ight, I’m gonna go get them to bring your car into the garage and I’ll be outside.”
I nodded my head as I fished in my pocket for my phone. Once I located it, I slid my finger across the screen and placed it to my ear. “What’s good, babe?”
“Baby, how much do you love me?” Whenever she asked me this question, I knew that my wallet was about to open, and I was gonna spend some bread.
“How much is it going to cost me this time?”
“Gyson Davis, how much do you love me?” her tone changed.
I guess she must have had me on speaker. She was always showing off in front of those stiff ass bitches. In her circle, she had made it cool to fall in love and marry a black man. All her friends were either married or set to be married to some Italian man who would be fifty pounds heavier in six years because of all the sauce and gravy they asses consumed. I felt like it was the only dish that Shakira knew how to make.
“A lot,” I told her what she wanted to hear.
Shakira loved to spend money like that shit was growing on trees. It was something she always did, but I didn’t mind because she was spending her father’s money. Now she was spending mine and every time I turned around it was some big ass purchase or some purse she couldn’t live without.
“So, you know Molly just got her home redecorated, right? It’s so beautiful,” she carried on about Molly’s new crib. “She gave me the information to the design firm that did her home. I want to get the whole house redecorated.”
“What’s wrong with the décor we have now? I like it.” Before we moved into the mansion, I had someone come in and do every room so all we had to do is turn the key to enter the house. It wasn’t shit wrong with how the house was currently decorated. Shakira’s ass was just bored and wanted something to do that revolved around spending more money.
“We’re going to be married and need something new. Plus, the girls currently share a room and I want to give them their own rooms. They have their own individual styles and I want that to reflect with their rooms.” She had a point. The girls had always shared a room since they were old enough to sleep in a big kid bed. The older they both got, the more opposite they became. What Summer loved, Rain hated and vice versa.
“We’re not doing the entire crib. Pick a room or three and that’s all that needs to be changed,” I laid down the law. I wasn’t about to pay a grip to change something that I had no problem with.
“Baby, seriously?”
“I’m dead ass. Make that shit work with three rooms. Matter fact, you need to get that room next to the girl’s room together. It’s time we start trying for my son.”
“Son? I’m not about to mess my body up to have another baby. Babe, you’re delusional,” she giggled. “He’s talking about baby number three, girls,” she spoke to her girls in the background.
“Aye
, stop telling those bitches my business. Like I told you after you got the body done, I want a son and you’re going to give it to me.”
“We’ll talk about this later. On another note, I’ll call the design company and set up an appointment to come check out whichever three rooms I pick out.”
“One. The other two rooms are the girl’s room.”
“Maybe I’ll get my closet redone.”
“Shakira, you heard what I said,” I replied, ended the call and headed out the house. Staten was on the stairs smoking a black and mild.
“Wifey needs more money?” Staten laughed.
“Mind your business.”
“You ready to handle business, or do you need more time to chat with your wifey about your fucking mansion?” he chuckled.
“Shut up. Let’s get this money. Call Priest.”
2
Priest
Prince’s Bay, Staten Island
“Kiss, why the fuck does it take you so long to get ready for school?” I hollered up the stairs at my seventeen-year-old niece. Every morning it was the same bullshit with her. She took forever to get ready and then she was late for school. I was tired of always pulling up to the carpool line late as fuck. Everyone already judged the fuck outta me because I was young and raising three girls alone. When Ghost told me to put the girls into this private school, I should have known it was only for the rich and famous.
“Why are you yelling?” Kiki, the youngest, asked as she bit into an apple. She was dressed and waiting along with her sister Love.
“Because I’m tired of her taking forever to fucking get ready in the morning.”
“Pipe it down, Ro. I’m done.” Kiss came downstairs with a full face of make-up, her long bundles brushed into a sleek ponytail and a baggy school sweat suit. It seemed like all she did was wear sweats and baggy ass clothes.
“No regular uniform?” I told her and grabbed the keys to my Mercedes truck. We were running late, and I was sure that traffic was going to be crazy trying to make it to their school in time.
