I turned my top lip up at him. “Louisiana? What the fuck? Now your drunk ass just doing shit. You don’t even have family down there. I’m the only motherfucka’ you got.”
Family was scarce for us after my mother passed and my sisters moved away. That was why we took my mother’s death so hard. Quanni wasn’t even my blood cousin. Her mom was really close to mine, and we grew up together. Although my relationship with my father was touch and go, him wanting to leave for Louisiana only made me feel more alone. My mother was gone, my sisters moved away, and now the only other immediate family member I had was planning on dipping out on me too. The shit was fucked up.
Drunkenly, he shook his head mad aggressively. “No, you’re not the only motherfucka’ I got. I met this lady friend during rehab, and she told me she has a house in Louisiana that her father left her. She says she’s gonna need some help fixing it up, and you know, I’ve always been good with my hands, so in exchange for the handy work, she’s gonna give me a place to lay my head. I always taught you to never go nowhere without money, so I need to sell the house so I can support myself in Louisiana. I’m really trying to let go of Julianna. It’s been ten years since she died.”
I was all for my pops trying to get his shit together, but it had been ten years of him trying and failing. Each time he landed on his ass, I had to be the one to fish him out of the bullshit he ended up in. From the day my mama took her last breath, I went from always focusing on her to now having to always focus on my father. Not once in that timeframe was I ever a priority, nor did anyone think to check on me. I lost the most important woman in the world, but I couldn’t grieve because my father made it all about him.
My wife told me that at some point, it became a choice for me to prioritize my father and his bullshit over my grief, so I couldn’t continue to blame him for how I was feeling. But if I didn’t look out for him, who would? The only other person willing to deal with his shit was my mother, and she was gone. My sisters ain’t want no parts. I felt obligated.
I let go of him and took a step back. “This you moving on from my mama? With a lady friend you met in rehab?” I chuckled. Clearly, I didn’t take shit he was saying serious. He was a broken record at this point. I reached into my front pocket and pulled out a stack of blues. “How much you need to hold you down in Louisiana? Gimme a number.”
“Thirty thousand,” he quickly shot out, hoping to get over on me again.
I cut my eyes at him before going back to yoking him up against the wall. This time I had my hand wrapped around his throat, and he looked scared enough to piss himself.
“Now you fucking playing with me, Kareem. I’m not giving your drunk ass thirty racks. You gone take the three thousand dollars I have here, sign this fucking contract, and get on the next bus, plane, or fucking scooter to get to Louisiana. I don’t never wanna see or hear from your drunk ass until you got your shit together.”
I struck fear in my father, some shit I never thought would happen. When my mother died, it was like she took the order of our family with her, and now shit was all screwed and fucked up. He nodded his head and took the contract. Quanni handed him the pen, and he signed his name on the dotted line. I shoved the money into his hand, and like he always did when I threw money at him, he smiled with all 32 of his teeth.
He handed the contract back to me before stuffing the money I gave him in his pocket. “I’m gone get right down there in Louisiana. I promise you, son.”
“Stay down there. You come back to the city on bullshit, and I’ll put you down right next to Ma.”
He gulped down a little before nodding his head. I was done with the constant back and forth with my father. His ass was never gonna get right, and I was done getting my fucking hopes up.
“You think he gone make it out to Louisiana?” Quanni asked me as we walked back to my car.
I shrugged. “Not my fucking business. I got the house. That’s all that matters to me.”
I hugged Quanni and thanked her before pulling off the block. I wasn’t too far from my baby’s boutique, so I rolled through. She had been trying to get out of her little funk about the club being shut down, so she was working more at the boutique.
As I pushed through the door, I was greeted by the boutique manager, Lyric. “Hey, Ahkeem! Your wife is in her office. Beware: she’s being a raging b-word.” She whispered the last part, prompting me to laugh.
“Damn. That bad today?”
“Yup. The manufacturer for the loungewear sets she designed fucked up the shipment, so she’s fuming. Tread lightly.”
“‘Preciate the heads up.” I dapped her up before pushing through the boutique. I bypassed a few customers before I got to Jazzy’s office in the back.
When I entered, she was leaning against her desk with her office phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. “I don’t pay you guys all this money for you to fuck things up! Fix it and fix it fast!” she ordered before slamming the phone down on the receiver.
“Damn. If I knew you were this pissed, I wouldn’t have shown up empty handed.”
She looked up at me before her face softened. “I’m sorry, baby. They sent me the same color swatches for the loungewear collection. Who the fuck does that?”
I smirked as I wrapped my arms around her. “Exactly. Who the fuck does that?” I mocked her.
“Ahk, it’s not funny!”
I caught her hand before she hit my chest. “I’m just fucking with you, Lovey. You got on their ass and rightfully so. They’ll fix it.”
“They better. What you doing here?”
I craned down and pecked her lips a couple times before responding. “Ya man can’t pop up on you?
She giggled as she draped her arms around my neck. “He can. Is he gonna take me out to lunch too?”
“Of course. As long as he get some pus?”
