Juice

by Nako

  Tia checked the call to see if he was still there, “He-llo?”

  “What money?” he knew what she was talking about, yet hoped that she didn’t try him in that way.

  “Uh…I believe I owe you, one hundred and eighty-six thousand dollars and fifty-one cents.”

  Juice didn’t want to curse her lil’ ass out on what should be a day of happiness and relief.

  “I’ma holler at you, T.”

  She didn’t get to say anything in response. Juice hung up in her face.

  Tia made a mental note to call him back on the same day she would check on Coop…which was no time soon. She needed a break from them both. Tia went back to the room and they were now all ordering dessert.

  “We running up a ten-thousand-dollar tab at this point,” she commented.

  Her line sister, Lanise, said, “You got it.”

  They were all so happy for her and were only teasing, Tia knew that. She returned to her seat and asked her mentee, “Why didn’t you tell me that Freedom was your mother?”

  She took the glass of wine from Jhene.

  “How did you know?”

  “I put it together today. Your mom said something about giving back and it came to me. I remember on your application it said that you were adopted.”

  Jhene dropped her head in which Tia hurriedly picked up by lift of her index finger.

  “Are you ashamed of your mother? Or being adopted?” she wanted to understand.

  Jhene shook her head. “I didn’t want anyone to be my mentor and try to get close to me because of her. That’s why I came here for school, away from all of that.”

  “Your mom is so cool. Do you know how much I wish I had a mom that I could call or be proud to call my momma?”

  Jhene was blessed.

  “She’s the best.”

  “Don’t cower.” Tia wished that someone would’ve told her that growing up.

  She cowered to make others feel better and that spirit attached itself to her for years to come. Tia was done dimming her light for the betterment of others. She was about to start shining.

  “I love you and thank you for having your mom come see about me. I wouldn’t have been able to get through this or even be in the position that I’m in if it wasn’t for her,” Tia expressed her gratitude.

  “You’re welcome and I love you too.”

  She hugged her and then told her, “This is your last glass of wine too.”

  η

  He wanted to be there for Tia but knew that it would be way too many cameras around and for the sake of his very emotionally fragile fiancée, he didn’t go. Juice never wanted to be single so bad and that was a horrible way to feel. In lieu of standing next to Tia’s side, he went to the mosque to pray. He had to hang up on her yesterday though, he didn’t need anything back from her and hated that she felt as if he needed to be reimbursed for something that he did truly from the heart.

  However, his prayer time today was refreshing.

  Juice knew that he needed to get back on track. He’d been tripping lately, smoking like a teenager who bought a 3.5 with their allowance and drinking 1942 like it was going out of style. He knew that he needed to grab the reins on his vices. These days, his mood was so up and down, and he couldn’t control his emotions or his thoughts for nothing in the world.

  The mosque brought him peace and clarity. He smoothed out his kurta, which was a loose shirt that was worn knee-length. Juice wasn’t an overly-religious person. If anything, he was more in tuned with his spirit. He believed in the doctrine of karma and how every person should behave justly as every act or deed comes full circle. In his spare time, during a lost season in his life he studied the Indian heritage. Juice got into meditation and yoga. He now believed that it was how he destressed and rejuvenated his mind.

  He was feeling better as he unlocked the door to his whip.

  “Yo…you Juice?”

  He didn’t have problems or any known beef, so he rarely carried a gun.

  This was a neighborhood that he frequented often, so he was never prepared for anything to pop off. However, the nigga in front of him had a menacing stare.

  “Yeah, what’s good?”

  A brother from the mosque was coming out and made sure Juice was okay.

  “Jihad.”

  “I’m straight…” he gave the dude a look and he said, “Quick chat, nothing more.”

  Juice rested against his car door.

  “I don’t know if I recognize your face,” he hated to tell him.

  “We have a common interest.”

  Juice waited on him to provide additional information.

  “Tia.”

  She must’ve let him know that she was aware that he was in the streets.

  His eyebrow raised, “You’re the best friend.”

  “And you’re the fuck nigga that broke her heart?” Coop was being as sarcastic as he was.

  Juice looked him up and down. He was tall. Juice was taller.

  He had his lil’ ice on or whatever. Not an ugly nigga, he always gave props where they were due.

  “Can I help you with you something, bruh? I got a meeting.” He wasn’t about to be sitting around discussing someone that was already his. This nigga didn’t compare.

  Coop stepped a lil’ closer to him. “I didn’t appreciate you throwing salt on my name. It’s been plenty of times I could’ve done that to you, but I didn’t. I ain’t gotta piss on you to get ahead.”

  Juice wasn’t scared of him. The only thing he regretted was not having a gun on him but knew that he was protected either way it went.

  Juice chuckled. “You’re not even her type. This shit is kinda funny to me,” he hated to tell him.

  “What’s her type? Please tell me!” Coop’s voice rose an octave.

  Juice smirked at him, nonchalantly, “ME.”

  Coop wasn’t fazed by the attempt of him popping shit.

  “Oh okay. Look, I fell through to let you know that I’m not giving up on her.”

  Good for you, nigga, Juice thought to himself.

  “Well, I guess that makes two of us.”

  Juice was done talking. He really had somewhere to be.

  Once he made it home after the sun had set, dinner was cooking, and it was smelling damn good in his crib.

  “Babe?” he called out to his bookie boo.

  Faai wheeled down the hallway. “Hi honey,” she seemed to be in good spirits which was a good thing for him. Whenever she wasn’t in a sour mood, it made being home a fun and relaxing thing again.

  “Hey, how was your day?” He bent down and kissed her forehead.

  “It was okay…” she sneezed.

  “Coming down with a cold?” He checked her temperature by touching her neck

  “I don’t know, the lady you hired probably got me sick,” she rolled her eyes.

  She hated the help, but he didn’t care. The nurse was permanent.

  Juice ignored her complaint. “Did she help you cook?” he changed the subject and wheeled her into the kitchen.

  “If you call helping me, putting the pan in the oven, then yeah, she was a great help,” her remarks were full of snide.

  Despite Coop attempting to roll on him, he had a good day and wanted to keep it that way.

  “I’m about to shower. Don’t forget I fly out-”

  She cut him off, “In the morning. Coachella prep. How could I forget?” She rolled her eyes and wheeled herself away.

  Juice sighed. He couldn’t win for losing these days…at least, not when it came to her.

  He ate dinner alone while catching up on the news and crashed in the guest room. When Faaizah woke up the only person that greeted her was the stupid ass sick nurse.

  “Mr. Shahid has a massage scheduled for you today at eleven and look at these roses…”

  She tuned the nurse out as she twirled the rock on her finger. Massage. Roses. All he knew was material things...did he forget her love language? Because it wasn’t gifts. A massa
ge didn’t make her happy. Faaizah didn’t even take into consideration the thought that went into it.

  Was this love? Was this really going to be how the rest of her life went?

  Faaizah prayed that things changed and soon…she was miserable.

  C H A P T E R 15

  I remember days you would laugh with me – Future

  Teka was on the phone with her best friend, Giselle, as she made sloppy-joes vegan style. She’d recently made the switch to clean eating. A healthier lifestyle was something that she did research on before actually doing it. She didn’t believe in riding the wave or jumping on the bandwagon just because everyone else was.

  “It smells good though, for real girl,” she tried to convince Giselle, who was not interested in eating tofu drowned in tomato sauce.

  “Girl, I’ll pass. I don’t even eat sloppy joe with real meat.”

  She laughed, “Used to be a struggle meal, but I love it.”

  She gathered the empty cans and other items that needed to be thrown in the trash in her hands.

  “These kids better like it too, I’m tired of cooking two meals every night.”

  Giselle said, “I keep telling you to do meal-prep on Sundays.”

  Personally, she didn’t want to eat days old food. The idea of it made her stomach hurt.

  “I’ll try it when you go vegan for a week,” she said loudly since the phone was on speaker on the kitchen island.

  She threw her trash away and then doubled back to the can.

  “Ain’t no way in hell,” she prayed her eyes were playing tricks on her,

  but it wasn’t.

  “What’s wrong?” Giselle questioned.

  “Nothing, let me call you back girl.”

  Teka picked up the greasy ass Wendy’s bag, not caring that she had just stuck her hand in the trash.

  She took the bag down the steps downstairs where Moses mainly chilled at when he was at home and they weren’t spending quality time together. For a brief period, she forbade him from going into his man cave. After their second child, she experienced post-partum and felt alone. Moses being in the basement all night didn’t help either.

  They were a happy couple, seriously. No flex. She was in a good place in her marriage and the only thing that she often raised hell about was his health. It was no secret that he was overweight and clearly was obsessed with food. Teka had been on his ass about losing weight and adopting better eating habits. She thought that he was finally taking her serious and making his health a priority, but clearly not.

  Moses was shooting pool, smoking a blunt and listening to some old school rap. The tunes of UGK was playing on low.

  “Dinner ready?”

  She plopped down the bag on his blue velvet pool table that he cherished so damn much.

  “Aye gul!”

  “Moses, why are you eating this shit?” she yelled.

  His wife was mad.

  He saw it all over her face and the “Set It Off” look that she’d given him told him he was in trouble. He did what he always did…blamed it on the weed.

  “I was high last night…and hungry.”

  His excuse was poor. “Stop smoking then.”

  Moses asked, “Stop smoking?”

  He loved to smoke, that’s wasn’t happening. It was what kept him so cool, calm and collected. She should encourage him to smoke more if they were being real about his bad habit.

  “That’s why I bought you fruit. It’s oranges up there.”

  He didn’t want no damn fruit. That Baconator was poppin’ at about two in the morning last night.

  “It won’t happen again,” he told her, hoping that she’ll let the problem go. Hopefully...

  “I don’t care no more. If you have a heart attack, that’s on you.”

  She went even lower, “Thank God I got life insurance on your ass.”

  Teka gave him a hard look and he told her, “Come here.”

  She knew what he was about to try to do and the answer was, “NO.”

  Moses motioned for her to head his way.

  “You don’t get to keep slinging dick every time you make me mad. It’s not going to keep working,” she told him, straight up.

  Moses heard every word that she was saying but wasn’t really listening or caring.

  She was sexy as shit with her lil’ workout clothes on and her hair tied up with a scarf. This was when she was the prettiest to him.

  He tried again, “I gotta tell you something.”

  Teka rolled her eyes and walked over to him.

  She leaned against the pool table. “What nigga?”

  Moses came closer and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love you, beautiful.”

  She would never grow tired of hearing him declare his love for her. It was a token that she held onto. Possessively.

  “Mo, I love you too but baby, you have to start taking your health serious. I can’t raise these kids without you.”

  Teka wasn’t going to give up on him or let him think that how he was going through life was the right way because it wasn’t.

  He kissed her on the neck. “You’re my boo. You know that, right?”

  She nodded her head. “Yes, baby.”

  Moses pulled her leggings down to her knees and yanked his dick out, swiftly.

  “What the kids doing?” he asked, knowing that they didn’t have much time. Their children were the ultimate cock-blockers.

  “I don’t know.”

  Truth be told, she preferred their quickies. The rushing feeling, the passion that they could conjure up for a moment sent her pussy into overdrive. Making love was always a beautiful thing, but it was something about them mid-day quickies with your nigga to remind you of how things got started in the first place. She embraced these times…especially on the pool table.

  Legs in the air, screaming his name with his hand over her mouth.

  “Open up,” he commanded as he slid his dick inside of her.

  She was always ready.

  Teka’s pussy was TTG.

  Trained to go for daddy.

  She reclined her back on the pool table to give him leverage as he stroked her middle.

  Getting completely naked would have to wait until they went to bed tonight. There wouldn’t be any sucking the titties and all of that this go round.

  “Damn baby,” he groaned as he panted loudly.

  Moses was giving her the business as quick as he could. Teka threw out a few sultry remarks to help them both reach their climax.

  He toyed with her clit as he sped the pace up. “Is Morgan calling your name?” He thought he heard their child.

  “I don’t know,” she moaned, which was her answer for everything while he was fucking her senseless.

  Moses tongued her down, feeling his nut building.

  “Right. Fucking. There.”

  She was on the verge of exploding.

  “Tekaaaaaaa,” he cried out like a newborn baby as he spilled his release in her valley.

  The couple cleaned up in the bathroom inside of the basement.

  Moses then mentioned, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you I’m going to Coachella with P.”

  She looked at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah…”

  He asked her, “Is it an issue?”

  She shook her head. “Nope, not at all. I’m going too. Guess you need to be calling the nanny.”

  Moses gave her a dumfounded look as she reached on her tippy toes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “Dinner will be ready in a few.”

  η

  It was time for Coachella. Rehearsal was about to be hell. Juice honestly didn’t have the patience to deal with Mahogany and her antics. Some days were better than others, but for the most part, she was being a complete bitch. He ended up smoking way too many blunts last night and today, had damn near blew through half an O. It was hot as shit in the warehouse they were renting for her to prepare for the performance.

  “Genesis, what did th
e owner say about the air?” he asked for another update.

  He threw his hands in the air. “Dude said it’s on. It’s too many niggas in here.”

  There was no way that the furnace wasn’t old or broke. They were sweating like Hebrew slaves.

  “Juice, you keep asking him to check on it. What about finding someone else to come and look at it?” she yelled across the room.

  He looked down at the pile of paperwork that he was going through.

  Invoices.

  Scheduling.

  Flight arrangements.

  Track list.

  “Sure princess. I’ll find someone. I’m not doing shit,” he told her, sarcastically.

  Juice wondered what the fuck the purpose was for her to have assistants.

  That was her third time coming at him in the seven days they’d been here thus far and yes, he was keeping count.

  His patience was thin and clearly, hers was thinner.

  She rolled her eyes and got back to dance practice.

  At four in the morning, she and the dancers rehearsed until eight.

  From nine thirty to twelve they met with sound and lights.

  At two p.m., they went through graphics.

  For one hour, they did interviews.

  After a break for dinner, they returned and went through old film that had been recorded over the short time since she’d become a celebrity.

  Juice’s vision for her performance was epic.

  It would be like something the festival attendees had never seen before.

  The goal was to blow every performance out of the water and create a standard that other artist would have to try their hardest to follow.

  Juice had been eating, sleeping and breathing Coachella.

  “I’ll look for another technician. I see how hard you’re working bro.”

  He didn’t know who this guy was but thanked him, “Appreciate that, homie.”

  The young dude stuck his hand out. “I’m Tyler. I’m here with Lincoln,” he motioned towards a tall, white man.

  “Lights?”

  Tyler nodded his head, “Yep.”

  “Juice, Mahogany’s manager.”

  “I know all about you…love what you’re doing for the culture,” he let him know.

  No one had never told him that before. Juice was taken back.

  “Is it too much to ask what I’m doing?” He cracked a smile.