by Nako
Tia followed him outside and crossed her arms over her chest. She had on a nightgown and it was kind of chilly.
“I’m about to head back to New York.”
Tia gave him a nonchalant look, “Alright.”
“Call you when I land, okay?”
She didn’t give a fuck what he did at this point. Him leaving so soon was a reminder that he didn’t belong to her. He was someone else’s.
“Thanks for a great weekend, Juice. Get home safe.”
She left it at that.
Juice needed to explain himself but didn’t want to lie to her, so he watched her walk up the steps and close the door behind herself.
He shook his head, knowing he had fucked up yet again. Faaizah was at the crib tripping. She went from not caring about social media and shit to knowing everybody damn business. He had to get home and clear up the situation. Tia being with “his” friends had her rattled and she refused to believe him when he said it was a coincidence.
Chanda asked, “Bro gone?”
The rest of her girls looked at her for an answer.
Tia tried her hardest to not seemed bothered with him dipping out.
“Yeah…he had some…some business...”
Before she knew it, the tears came, and her lip trembled profusely.
No lie, her feelings were crushed. He made her feel like nothing more than a good fuck and a great time.
They got up and circled around her with hugs and love.
“This not even me.”
Tia had come a long way…she wiped her tears after she stepped out on faith and encouraged herself to leave him, knowing that she deserved better.
Every morning for what seemed like forever she would read a note that she jotted down in her phone. An affirmation. A declaration that she would get through her pain and over Juice. Every morning, she challenged herself to put one foot in front of the other. Breakups were hard. She left her best friend. The one person that she knew had her back no matter what. Tia gave him her all.
Almost ninety days passed, she was still telling herself every single day, “I chose myself. I am the prize. He is a loser. He didn’t like me enough. He didn’t love me enough. He didn’t put me first. He didn’t respect me. He is toxic to my sanity. He didn’t choose me. He was disrespectful. I deserve better. He’s not worth my time. I am moving on.”
It wasn’t easy to get over him, only God knows the sleepless nights that she tossed and turned. The tears she wiped at the most random times in the day. The songs she had to skip over to avoid being depressed. The pictures she deleted to help get him out of her mind. Tia made substantial progress. She recreated a life outside of her old normal. She was doing alright…and she let him come back in, without a fight. She should’ve held her own. As soon as he told her he was engaged, should’ve been her cue to keep it moving. It was a test and she failed it. Tia punished herself mentally in the present moment.
How did I let this nigga fuck me?
How I let him come right back?
Yeah, Juice begged her for a lil’ minute and then eventually, he fell back and moved on. A nigga in his position should’ve never gave up on her…if he really loved her.
How deep was his love? It was shallow and foolishly, she allowed him to slither back into her life. Tia unlocked her heart and handed it back to him without much thought. He didn’t deserve her.
Tia cried. She was tired of holding that shit in. Emotionally affected by him dipping out on her to go save face with his hoe. When she thought about it…she’d made the right decision by going back in the house because she didn’t know what she was capable of doing had she stayed in his face and listened to him make up some shit about why he had to fly out so abruptly. Tia was glad she let him leave, peacefully.
She was triggered to do damage. Tia felt so stupid and told herself, No more history over happiness. Going forward it must be the other way around.
She was disappointed and ashamed right now. “How I go from being his girlfriend to a fucking secret?”
Tia wanted to fall to her mother fucking knees but didn’t, for the third time, he’d shown her that she’ll never come first.
C H A P T E R 17
You got me wishing I was your nigga – Chris Brown
Coachella was EPIC. Juice was thankful for the bright light that always went off in his head. When the idea came to him in the middle of the night about recording footage on a whole “Road to Coachella” concept, Mahogany initially said, “No.” She refused to let social media be able to offer an opinion that she really didn’t give two fucks about. You give the outsiders an inch and they literally ran with it. Her point was proven when one of her good girlfriends, literally one of the sweetest people she knew, did an interview on Red Table Talk and social media dragged her. Mahogany was madder than she was. She didn’t think it was fair that so-called “fans” wanted more insight on their favorite celebrities and the one time that transparency is given, they’re judged. It wasn’t fair, and she refused to allow people to make her feel bad for anything that she had going on. People couldn’t talk about what they didn’t know.
Mahogany lived on her own terms. She claimed that her life was just that…private and how she didn’t want cameras in her house or around her children. However, however, however, the Netflix idea had to be Juice’s greatest concepts thought of to date. He, along with her team of stellar attorneys, was able to negotiate the rights of the show with Coachella and sold it to Netflix. Mahogany signed a deal to give them three shows for the app. One was of course her epic ass performance, the second would be a documentary comprised of old, never seen before footage and the third would be a live recording that she had scheduled at the end of the year in Sweden.
Juice was lit as fuck at the accomplishment and was even more excited because it would be his first credit as an Executive Producer, or so he thought…
He was tired, and it seemed as if his manager duties never ended, but he didn’t complain. His strength or willpower to make sure that everything she needed never wavered. He always put in 1000%.
For instance, once a month, mainly on Monday afternoons, the team came together for a core meeting.
The meeting would normally take place at YQ Recordings or at Juice’s office, which was really a cool ass studio apartment turned office. The rent was cheap, and the view took your breath away. All he ever required was good energy and a lot of light, Juice could make magic happen from there.
Because they had so much to cover at Coachella, the team met at YQ Recordings and he sent Mahogany’s wack ass assistants to get breakfast which to him, common sense would have told them to order it anyway.
“I don’t know why you don’t fire them and get ONE good assistant that you don’t have to tell what to do,” he shook his head.
She was wasting her money with those dummies.
Mahogany was typing away on her phone and only said above her Fendi readers, “Fire them and find someone of your liking.”
She really didn’t care. After this meeting, she had four weeks all to herself. The time would be spent making love to her man and being a mom.
She was also looking forward to getting her bookie boo, the first baby that ever had her heart. His grandmother promised that she could get him for the weekend and she had better keep her word.
The meeting would be starting in about five minutes.
Juice, Mahogany, her publicist, live agent, one of her four lawyers were the only people that were on time. They were still waiting on Yara, Quentin and the people that they normally kept with them. All together the core meetings rounded out to about thirteen people who came together for the betterment and progression of the career of one person. What people failed to realize was that any artist that you jammed out to couldn’t be successful without a team. A team who worked hard.
Juice checked his email and then sent out good morning messages to his fiancée, and Tia, who he knew wouldn’t text him back because she was still mad at him.
He’d counted the times she posted herself working out to Jhene Aiko’s latest freestyle, Triggered. He knew the message was for him.
After he closed out the embarrassing thread of him blowing her up at this point. He sent a “Good morning” text to the group chat he had with his baby mamas. The purpose was strictly for the kids, not really them and he was sure that by now they all understood. Juice spoke to all of them at the same time and they only texted him outside of the group message when they needed extra funds, but for the most part, all got along.
Juice was happy that he didn’t have any drama anymore. Long as they stayed on the same page, his kids were good and that’s all he really cared about. One thing he learned from the experience of those closest to him was that fuckin’ your baby mama was not the move. Fuckin your baby mama confused her. Fuckin your baby mama only made it harder for you in the end. She still was able to consider herself the winner, one way or the other. Through child support or a child abandonment warrant. Fuckin your baby mama gave her the impression that she had you and that you cared when really half the time a nigga just getting a nut off. Most baby mamas connected sex with love and attention. Juice refused to string anyone along that he didn’t want to be with.
“Good morningggg, let’s get into it. Busy day today,” Yara said as soon as she and her husband entered the room.
They were the bosses, everyone closed out what they were doing and waited on someone to start the meeting, which most times was Juice.
He stood up and recapped Coachella.
Quentin stopped him mid-way through his list, “When does the doc drop on Netflix? We need to get started on promo for that.”
Mahogany answered, “Next year.”
“Oh, we have plenty of time.”
Juice nodded his head, “Yeah, paperwork is already in motion though being that more than two parties are involved.”
“Will we get copies of everything? I haven’t signed nothing that I know of…”
Yara looked at QB, who shook his head.
Juice then asked the lawyer, “How are we looking on that?”
“It was a few changes but once I’m done modifying the document, all parties will receive an email to sign.”
“What changes?” Juice wasn’t aware of any changes needed to be done.
The lawyer looked at Mahogany who seemed…hesitant.
Yara wanted to know as well, “He-llo?”
Juice sat down and waited on someone to fill them in.
Her lawyer saw that Mahogany had amnesia, so she said, “Juice was removed as EP and Porter is listed…”
Quentin’s facial expression was a surprised one. Yara seemed…amused.
Mahogany eyes never left Juice’s face.
Juice’s eyes were on the wooden table.
He took his time landing his dark and hurt orbs onto hers.
“Was this something I would find out later?” he was confused.
“Can we talk about this later?” Quentin asked, not thinking this was a conversation to have in front of everyone, although they were all supposedly one big team. A family.
Juice said, firmly, “No.”
Mahogany sat up. “We thought it was a good idea if me and P did this together since we want to get into film.”
“We or you? Or him?” Juice needed clarification. It would make a huge difference in the decision he made after leaving the meeting.
She pursed her lips together. “Juice, you’re making this a bigger deal than what it really is,” she attempted to downplay the situation.
“But it’ll be a big deal for y’all though, right?” He wasn’t new to this shit but he damn sure was true to it.
Yara chimed in, “Mahogany, you do know that me and Quentin will have to be added as EP’s?” She was always about her money.
She nodded her head, “Yeah.”
Juice was done with the conversation. This was her last time showing him what it really was.
He stood up and grabbed his black journal, iPad, phone, hat and keys.
“Juice, are you serious right now?”
For some reason, she did this new thing where she acted so baffled or oblivious of her actions. As if he wasn’t human. As if he had no feelings when he had a lot of them. Juice appreciated the reciprocated energy.
He looked her dead in her eyes telling her, “I’ll have my lawyer settle whatever businesses we have left.”
He took the gate fob that gave him access to YQ Recordings along with the keys to Mahogany’s house off his key ring and dropped them on the table. Not that he was attempting to be dramatic, but because he knew that he would never use any of those keys again.
η
Investments were a big deal and something that anybody with a lil’ change needed to look into. Even if you weren’t “ballin, ballin” it was a goal that the average 9-5’r should still consider.
Whether that was putting ten dollars from each pay period into an account or under the mattress. Investing in your future was cutting back on those lash appointments and ordering false extensions on Amazon instead. Investing was cooking through the week and only eating out on the weekends. Investing was purging your closet, selling old clothes and putting those coins into your savings. Investing was out of every check, you slid twenty dollars into a college fund for your babies. Investing was acknowledging the fact that life was worth being lived and in order to one day enjoy the fruits of your labor and reap the rewards of what was considered sacrifice, you had to tell yourself to invest now, and have fun later.
Tia wasn’t going to blow through the money that she’d received and after she paid taxes on it, she had about three-point-five leftover, which was still a lot. The IRS viewed a settlement as income and any income earned was taxed.
The government was full of shit if you asked her, but Tia handled her business.
She decided to invest in several things. Stocks being the main one.
After hooking up with someone that Freedom highly recommended, she purchased some land for dirt cheap, but was in an area that was guaranteed to come up in a year or two.
Tia paid off her student loans, then put money into an IRA and Roth account with a guaranteed thirty thousand dollar contribution at the end of the year. If she didn’t touch the money before the age of fifty-five it would gain tons of interest over the years.
She had so much free time on her hands these days that she was loading herself up on information on investments, stocks, and financial freedom.
She was interested in starting a business or perhaps, getting back into photography, but wanted to be led by the Spirit before making any impulsive decisions.
Her phone vibrated as she read, Rich Bitch by Nicole Aplin at one of her favorite coffee shops in downtown Houston.
She saw that she’d had more than one missed call from the same number. Tia had been so into the book. The author’s approach at talking about money which could sometimes be boring to read about was perfect.
The number popped up unknown and she started not to answer because it was no telling who could be calling her from blocked.
She picked up and waited on whoever the heck it was to speak first.
“Hello?”
For it to had been years since she heard her mother’s deep and country voice, she knew it was her.
“Yeah?”
Tia didn’t have much respect for her, so it was best she treaded carefully.
“Tia, is this you?”
Lord, please don’t let money be the reason this lady called me.
“Hmm, hmm.”
She closed her books and crossed her legs, sadly, preparing herself for the worse from this woman.
“Girl, I looked all over for your number. It’s not the same.”
Why would it be?
“I change it often. How can I help you?”
Her tone was mature and corporate. Her mother didn’t know this version of her baby girl.
“I’m sure you know I saw the news. Girl my
heart dropped…”
Tia scoffed, “Well, we both know that wasn’t the first time you heard about that happening to me. Are you in denial this time, too?”
Her mother was quiet for a minute or so. “That was a very long time ago.”
It was so easy for someone who hadn’t experienced shit tell you when you should let something go. Healing was a process. Thankfully, Tia wasn’t harboring anything. For others, the effects could and did often have a lasting effect.
“Oh, I didn’t know it was an expiration date on the effects of rape?”
Tia prayed constantly. It was God and only Him that had provided her a peace and the spirit of forgiveness. She was still fearful. But forgiving and happy.
“Did I say that? Damn!”
Her mother had never much patience for her, probably, why she left her with her grandparents all the damn time.
“What’s up?”
She wasn’t envious of people that had close relationships with their mothers. Tia didn’t have a bone in her body that yearned for this lady.
“Are you still in Houston?”
“Where else would I be?” she wanted to know…like seriously, what the fuck was really up?
“Tia, it’s like you hate me or something. Everything I’m saying to you is being met with rage and a whole bunch of attitude,” she cried.
Ma Dukes had the nerve to sound like her feelings were hurt.
“Momma, I don’t hate you. I don’t like you. I don’t even love you. I wish I did.
Actually, I’m going to start praying about that…I’ll add you to the top of my prayer list,” she told her in a sarcastic tone but was also being serious.
Tia had forgiven everyone else that hurt and betrayed her.
Unfortunately, her raggedy ass mother never even crossed her mind.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Tia was over this conversation.
“You’re right, I’ll never know. If you’re not going to tell me what you want, then I’m about to hang up.”
People did what they wanted to do and the fact that she only reached out after she saw the news…wasn’t enough for Tia.
“Don’t hang up, please. Aren’t you going to ask me where I live now and what I’ve been up to?”
