He pressed his lips against mine before laughing. “You don’t got shit to worry about. This dick all you.”
“Go take the call, Ahkeem,” I laughed while pushing him toward an empty table so he could answer the phone.
I continued chopping it up with his sisters while Saphir filled them in on his Lego collection. My baby was obsessed with Legos. It was so bad that even Priest and the guys would call any time they were shopping and ran across a Lego set that they didn’t think Blue had as part of his collection. He was spoiled rotten.
Ahkeem eventually returned and the distraught look he had on his face concerned me. I cupped my hands around his face, steering his eyes to lock with mine.
“What’s wrong, Pa?”
“Uh… that was just the coroner’s office.”
I raised my brow up at him. “The fuck? What did they say?”
“Kareem… my father… he’s dead.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
AHKEEM
Snapping out of my thoughts,I faced Jazzlyn. “What do you want to do? You wanna leave?”
The news of my father dying hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. I always warned him that the bottle would lead him right to the grave, and I wasn’t wrong. A part of me felt like ever since my mother died, he had been chasing death. He would’ve offed himself if he had the courage to fucking do so. He finally got his wish. He was back with my mother… his true love.
“Nah.” I shook my head. I reached behind her and grabbed a bottle of Casamigos from behind the bar. “Keep this shit going.”
“Ahkeem-”
“I’m good, Lovey. We’ll deal with it later.” I popped the bottle of Casa open before taking a shot straight from the bottle.
The fight had finally come to a fucking end for Kareem. I loved my father. He was a good man when he wasn’t hooked on a bottle. My mother was always concerned about him. He was forgetful a lot of the time and didn’t take life too serious. Everything was a joke to him, even raising us. My mother was the disciplinarian, while he just laughed all the rebellious shit we did off and covered for us.
She always told us the reason she married him was because of his sense of humor. The man could make her laugh at the drop of a dime. He enjoyed making her come to tears in laughter. It got to a point where Khadijah, Niema, and I thought his silly-ass dad jokes were corny as hell, but my mother still doubled over in laughter each and every time.
Their marriage was the true definition of “through thick in thin.” He loved her until she took her very last breath and so did she. I looked up to my father for a couple things. For one, he didn’t play about his fucking wife.
I remembered when I was in middle school and some nigga got to talking to my mama crazy in the parking lot of the grocery store. I watched my dad lift that nigga up from the ground and toss his ass to the other side of the parking lot. From there, he proceeded to beat the brakes off of ole boy. My mother stood back with a smirk, almost like she knew she had the power to make him unleash the monster within him. She was his trigger and walked around like she was the most protected woman there was. That was what I strived to be for Jazzy. I wanted her to feel safe with me no matter what.
Then there was the fact that he made sure to always make shit happen for us. Kareem was the type of nigga to make a way out of no way. He was crafty with his hands, creative as fuck, and always had a connection to get him what he needed. We never went without, even when money was tight for us.
Lastly, he used to know what to say and when to say it. My father was wise beyond his years when he was in his right fucking mind and wasn’t drunk. We used to have these talks whenever I was spiraling. He talked me off the ledge more times than I could count. That was why I made it a point to bust that illegal U-turn in traffic when I caught him stumbling down the block. We sat on the curb and talked for hours.
He told me how he wanted to make my mother proud; however, he was struggling because he never envisioned life without her. She was his forever, and their time got cut short.
For the rest of the night, I got fucking shit faced. Happy fucking birthday to me… right? That drunk-ass nigga decided to gift me with the news of him finally making it to Heaven with Mama like he always talked about since she passed. Shit was crazy.
“This nigga wilding, fam!” Kross laughed while pointing at me as I stood on top of the bar.
“It’s his birthday! He turning the fuck up!” J’Ru added.
The façade was believable to everyone but Jazzlyn. In the cut, as she stood alongside Angie, Zylynn, Taylor, Remedy, Jadey, and Britain, I watched her face contort into a worried expression.
She excused herself from the ladies and began striding over to me. Even though she was rushing over to me, she couldn’t help but to have the aura and gracefulness of a model as she made her way across the rooftop.
“Ahkeem, get down,” she gritted at me, trying not to make a scene.
I eyed her, debating on if I wanted to kill my own vibe. If I continued to deflect, I wouldn’t have to walk into the coroner’s office so soon and identify my pops. “Please.” My wife doubled down, and I could see the desperation in her eyes.
I never wanted to see that look in her eyes. I got down from the bar, and she took the bottle out my hand. “Oh shit! Wifey had enough of the shenanigans!” Jersey called out.
