by Nako
“How is everything looking?” he spoke in a hushed tone.
Juice chuckled coolly, “Nigga need a makeover like yesterday.”
He didn’t know what that meant, “Come again?”
Porter’s French accent was still intact even after years of being in the states.
“He don’t look like himself, which is crazy because I went to see him as much as I could… I don’t know maybe I’m high. He looks like he should play in Lion King.”
Juice wasn’t one to overreact.
“Can it be fixed? What about hiring an image consultant?” P suggested.
Juice believed that his new artist really could benefit from that.
“Yeah, that’s what he need. Okay. Do you know someone?”
In perfect timing, Carmen returned looking a whole lot better than she did seven minutes ago.
“What do you want to talk about?” she had the nerve to now have an attitude. Putting her hands on both of her hips and eyeing him with an irritated look on her face.
“Yo, I’m on it. I’ll hit you back when I touch down.”
Juice said, “Say less,” before ending the call.
“Carm, when are you coming home?”
How she answered the question would direct the remainder of the conversation.
“Where is home? To L.A? I sold my business in New York, where I really don’t have anyone?” she asked, sarcastically.
“You have your son who needs you and when the fuck did you sell your business and to who?” he was appalled.
She fanned him away, “My son hates me. He wants his daddy home and until that happens he could care less about me. His grandparents have drilled in his head that I’m the reason his daddy is in jail,” she predicted.
Carmen never said her ex-husband’s name. He was a bitter taste in her mouth.
“You let them take your son away. You didn’t fight to keep him. You didn’t sit him down and tell your side of the story. Yo, you’re going to look up and he’s going to be thirty and still hating you,” he kept it real with her.
She didn’t like the sound of that.
“Again, what are you here for? Who sent you?” she questioned.
Porter genuinely cared about her and she knew that.
“No one had to send me sis. In case you forgot I know all about leaving your life and starting over. I gave you time…a lot of it. Now, it’s time for you to come home and get your shit together,” he spoke from experience.
He understood how it felt to lose who you cared about the most.
Porter could closely relate to where she was right now, and he also was aware that it took people who loved you to help you redirect your path.
She still had life dwelling on the inside of her.
This wasn’t the end for her, he wouldn’t allow it to be.
“I want you to come back to New York. Relaunch The Showroom there. Fashion is in New York; I don’t care what you gotta say. New York is also where Kniko lives so it’s no need to even return to Cali if it’s not business.”
He had a plan for her if she didn’t have one for herself.
“Get back in church. You know Apostle is always asking about you.”
Porter didn’t share the conversation he had with him the other day after a Bible study session that he came to the house to have with him and his family.
It was a good and bad thing that Mahogany was now considered the real deal. His wife was a superstar. She couldn’t do anything normal anymore. Including go to church. Porter still went as much as he could, but shorty had to have praise and worship via the couch at their crib.
Twice a month, Apostle and his wife came over. They had dinner and then did a short bible study with Mahogany, Porter and the kids.
It was appreciated.
After their last encounter, he pulled Porter to the side and told him, “Carmen needs you to pull her out of the fire.”
That was all Apostle said, nothing more or less.
Few days later, after getting some things cleared off his jam-packed schedule. Here he was.
She began to cry.
“He loved me…he was like the father I wish I had,” she admitted.
He corrected her, “He still loves you. Carmen you’re the reason our whole circle is in church. You the reason we’re even praying and giving God the glory. You’ve always been the glue. We need you and we miss you.”
See, the devil will attempt and sometimes he’s successful at convincing you that no one needs you. No one loves you or that you aren’t appreciated. The devil has a slick way of making you feel as if you’re overlooked and misunderstood. Carmen’s friends could’ve moved quicker, that’s a fact. Her number changed and she deactivated her social media, but they could’ve emailed her or something. The devil had her thinking that no one cared, and she was all alone.
She went through a period of feeling as if they’d gotten all what they needed from her.
She’d supported every single one of her friends.
The first to arrive and the last to leave.
She would stay and help clean up.
Always bringing light and joy. It hurt to know that she’d been going through her battles by herself. For a whole year.
She’d been a damn good friend. Carmen bent over backwards for the ones that she loved. She was the motivator, encourager, cheerleader, worshipper, and everyone’s biggest supporter.
Every morning, she was sending affirmations, good morning text and scriptures.
She was constantly pouring into everyone, yet, who poured into her?
Her fuckin’ mama died, and she felt like she lost everything.
Who helped her put the pieces of her puzzle back together.
Who picked up the phone and tried to call? She would love to know.
Carmen was suffering and she did it all by her damn self.
Porter’s words affected her tremendously and she needed to hear all of that.
“I’m still here, Porter,” the statement was a loaded one and it brought tears to his own eyes as well.
He wasn’t an emotional person, but he knew how it felt to merely be holding onto life by a thin thread.
She was trying her best to maintain her sanity.
“I am still here,” she began to sob uncontrollably. She was speaking to herself more than him. She had a renewed sense of faith. Things were going to come together and work out for her.
I’m still standing. Barely. But I’m here damn it.
He stood to his feet and rushed over to her, pulling her into his arms.
“I got you sis,” he promised her. She hadn’t heard those words in so long and boy, did it feel good.
η
Nia was trying to pull everyone together to have a Welcome Home party for Carmen and Jordyn was no fucking help.
“Can you stop being nosey for one second?”
She was irritated and had been so for many years now.
For the life of her she couldn’t understand how one woman could be consumed with the well-being and progress of another woman. A woman that loved your ex-husband at that.
Jordyn had moved on so many times since her marriage with Nas. She didn’t get it and wished that her friend would go seek some help, because she needed it.
“Girl, hush. You think he dead and they not saying nothing?” she was curious. Jordyn was really thinking out loud.
Nia rolled her eyes while Eden asked her godmother, “Do you want him to die?”
“Edy!”
Jordyn shrugged her shoulders, “No, of course not. I mean then she’ll be alone for real. Nas ass ain’t coming home no time soon,” she griped.
Before Nia could ask her why does it even matter if Lauren will end up alone or not, the doorbell rang.
“That’s probably Mahogany,” she said before getting up to get it.
“Why don’t y’all have a house manager?”
Eden looked at her as if she was delusional, in which at this point she was convinced that
she was.
“Do you have a house manager auntie?”
Jordyn reminded her, “I live alone sweet pea. Going to get more wine. We keep running out.”
“Yeah cus yo’ ass keep drinking it all,” Eden mumbled under her breath.
“Did you just curse?” Nia asked as she returned to the great room with Mahogany and her kids in tow.
Eden stood up and shook her head, “Of course not girl.”
“I’ll watch the kids, come on rug rats.”
“What did I tell you about calling me girl?”
Nia was appalled at the lack of help she had when it came to welcoming Carmen back to New York.
“I thought you was going to help me make the invitation?”
Eden waved her phone, “Ma, it’ll take me four minutes on Canva, just send me the details.”
What would her life be without her children? They were the real assistants and who kept her up to date on the ever-growing world of technology.
“Okay sending to you now,” she typed furiously away on her phone.
“Is she excited to be back?” Mahogany asked while scanning social media on her celly.
Nia shrugged her shoulders, “I’m not sure. Porter said she was really emotional. A lot of crying. A whole lot,” that was all he’d shared with her thus far.
“I can only imagine. She lost everything in the blink of an eye.”
“What did she lose besides her mother?”
Nia looked at Jordyn and rolled her eyes, “Are you serious right now?”
She couldn’t beat around another bush not if they were supposed to be best friends.
Friends were one thing but when you gave a bitch the “best” title it changed the game. It was Nia’s responsibility to let her friend know that she was fucking tripping and it wasn’t cool at all.
“You know what…put the wine glass down because you’re not an alcoholic and I’m not going to keep letting that be your EZ-pass to say the trifling shit you say.”
Jordyn didn’t get a chance to protest. Nia had more to say.
“I am sick of you being so negative when it comes to everything. Jordyn, it’s not okay. I’ve come a long way. I’m on some good vibes only and you and your comments are starting to get on my nerves. Nah! They been on my damn nerves. Cut it out or I’m going to cut you off.”
She meant every single word.
At this point, she had no problem ending an almost twenty-year friendship.
Jordyn was a bitch and not in a “That’s my bishhhh, ride or die for life,” kind of way.
She was the type of bitch that you hated to see coming. The type of bitch that you muted on your timeline because everything she did irked you and got under your skin. The type of bitch that had a heavy spirit and an evil aura.
And lastly, she was the type of bitch that had no idea she was that bitch.
Nia needed a break.
Jordyn had tears in her eyes, but they were the crocodile kind and Nia wasn’t buying that shit.
“Must I remind you of what I’ve been through? Or what I have lost—"
“What did you lose?” she shouted, while clapping her hands together, returning the question right back at her ass.
She answered for her, “A nigga you didn’t want to begin with. Stop acting like you was so happy and in love when he got sent away because y’all wasn’t. He didn’t want you and it was vice versa and even from a fucking prison cell, you’re still well-taken care of ON his dime. Jordyn save that game for a lame.”
She was so worked up that she needed a minute to herself.
“Mahogany, I’m sorry you drove all the way over here and have to deal with this. If you can excuse me for a second I have to go find my husband’s weed and roll me a blunt.”
She walked out of the room.
Minutes later, she’d found East’s stash and was puffing as she sat on the floor in the corner of his man cave.
A knock at the door came and she assumed it was her baby girl.
“Edy, I am fine.”
She was always worrying about her.
“It’s me,” Mahogany announced as she pushed the door open.
“Your home girl left.”
“Good.”
Nia wasn’t tripping on her departure.
It was probably best.
“How long had you been holding that in?”
She took a deep breath, “Girl…years,” she admitted to her. Nia had been dealing with Jordyn’s mess for a long time. Keeping her thoughts to herself only worked when she didn’t annoy her. Today, Jordyn took it too far with the comment about someone’s’ husband being dead. Nia would never wish that for any woman. She’d lost the love of her life before and it was the one of the most difficult things she’d ever been through. They didn’t know how Lauren felt about Simon and it wasn’t their damn business. She didn’t see any chick staying with someone for as long as she and Simon had been together if she really didn’t want to be there.
“I get tired of talking about that shit and that nigga. It’s already bad enough my husband talks about him a lot. Like, not you too. Y’all not even married no more. Let it go.”
Nia couldn’t stress. She already had high blood pressure and diabetes. She refused to let J send her to the hospital.
“I think we as women…we gotta be more honest with the people in our inner-circle. The ones closest to us. If we can’t keep it one hundred with our friends then who can we expect to hear the truth from?”
Mahogany felt where Nia was coming from, all the way.
“Exactly.”
She took another pull from the blunt and then passed it to Mahogany, who happily accepted.
“My kids been working my nerves all day… I be so happy to be off tour then after a few days I be like…okay where to next?” she chuckled.
“Been there before. Savor the time with them though because they’ll be grown before you know it. Trust me boo.”
Mahogany always took everything in that Nia said. Her words were like liquid gold and they were free.
She had to tell her, “It still don’t even feel real that you’re my friend. I’m in your house,” she was a fan.
Nia only smiled at her. She was a regular chick from Brooklyn. Nothing more or less, if you asked her.
Minutes later, they were high out of their minds.
“Wow. I’m smoking a blunt with Nia Hudson,” Mahogany said out of nowhere.
Hours later, she found herself working at her desk, tirelessly. She was and always has been a go-getter. Not only did she manage to plan Carmen, someone she considered a dear friend, more like a sister to her a small and intimate dinner at what she hoped was still Carmen’s favorite restaurant. But, she did two treatments for the podcast that she and East produced and cleared out her email; a task that was very rare for her to complete.
Her baby tapped at the door before entering, looking tired as ever.
“Gym?” she questioned.
He shook his head, “Weed.”
He was high.
She was probably still in the clouds as well, “I smoked your stuff UP.”
He couldn’t do anything but laugh, “For real?”
His wife barely smoked these days, so he knew that meant her day was shitty.
Nia removed her eyeglasses and slid her chair away from her office desk.
After hugging and kissing on her husband, she filled him in on the conversation she had with Jordyn earlier.
East listened and then told her once she was done, “She’s crazy. Been fuckin’ crazy and jealous.”
He’d been saying that for years, but Nia never got that vibe from her and still didn’t.
She brushed it off, “What’s for dinner?”
“This dick.”
His chances differed depending on her level of energy and her mood.
Tonight, he was in for a treat.
Other than snapping on her best friend, she had a bomb ass day and would love to bless her husband with some office
pussy.
“You gon’ close the door?” she asked, as she removed her shirt and slid her pants down past her ankles.
East had to hear her say it, “Tell me you love me, bae.”
The three-worded confession would instantly make his dick hard.
Nia batted her mink lash extensions in his direction as he came closer.
“I LOVE YOU EASTLAND,” she would love him till the end of time.
They’d been through hell and back and they were still intact. Still in love.
Still rocking.
Still fucking like twenty-something-year-olds.
They were building an empire together.
Creating a legacy while making new memories every single day.
Nia was an advocate for prayer and therapy for any marriage.
Through the good and bad times, dry seasons and all, they both were dedicated to what they’d built.
Therapy wasn’t an option in their marriage, it was a priority.
Individually, they did the work to keep them solid.
She loved him and always would.
He tugged on her bottom lip while palming her brown bottom.
“Love you more.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gyrated her hips towards him.
He picked her ass right up, “This what you wanted huh?”
Nia couldn’t help but to laugh.
Knowing he was referring to the other night in the pool house, when he walked around the room with her bouncing on his dick.
It was something they’d never done before.
All out in the open.
Fucking like their kids wasn’t home….and it was freaking mind-blowing.
He literally, waxed her ass and put her straight to sleep.
“Yes.”
He slid her down on his pole.
How that man managed to pull them draws down so fast was a science that she never tried to figure out.
All she knew was that he never wasted any time.
“Why this pussy always feel like this?” he muttered under his breath.
His eyes were squeezed shut, “Fuckkkkkk,” he was a hood nigga. Moaning, grunting, and screaming out like a lil’ bitch never filled his resume, but his wife brought out the sensitive, sensational, in touch side of him. She made him better, in every single aspect of his existence.
Nia loved the way he filled her up. Every inch of her husband was snuggled deep in the warm and wetness of her haven.
