The doctor said a few more encouraging words to Cathy, who was crying harder than before his update. I squared my shoulders and nodded at the shit the doctor was saying, not letting my worry show. I’d said cost wasn’t an issue because we were mob now, but I still hadn’t been told what my source of income would be within the organization. I had some bread and a mean-ass hustle, so Glow would be good. Still, I was struggling because I’d agreed to trick on Glow as my wife, and the thought of spending my bread on her health issues was triggering my ass like a motherfucker. The last thing I should’ve been doing was putting my all into another woman who could heal and then burn me the same way the last woman did.
But Glow ain’t Stella, Tune,I thought to myself.
All this shit was a lot to take in, and since Cathy hadn’t stopped crying since the doctor walked out, I took the moment to walk out too. I needed some fresh air to settle the thoughts in my head. Glow didn’t deserve to be compared to Stella and the bullshit she put me through, but shit… I was human, and this shit felt like déjà vu. I had some shit to me, but Glow should’ve mentioned that she had an eating disorder. Of all the people I could have married, I ended up with someone who was fucking insecure about her body—someone who looked perfect from head to fucking toe. I never would have thought Glow had a damn eating disorder, and I couldn’t stop the word “anorexia” from circling my brain. I know it wasn’t some shit you can just come out and say, but fuck, she could’ve let a nigga know something.
I stepped into the hallway, giving her mom some privacy to cry in peace for her daughter. Inhaling the stale-ass hospital air, the elevator across from me dinged, and Don and his wife stepped off. Don was in a damn three-piece suit, a stark contrast from his street clothes yesterday. There was a presidential Rolex on one arm and a baby carrier in the next.
Dasani was dressed differently, too, in a navy-and-white athletic set, a huge Chanel bag, and Chanel sneakers. No matter what she wore, the shit always looked expensive, and today was no different, even with her dressed down. I didn’t know if they’d gone home in a copter or were wearing some shit they’d found at the nearest mall. It hadn’t been long enough for them to drive to Jagoda Bay and back unless they went by air. Knowing Don, he’d gone by air.
Dasani nodded at me as she walked past and went straight into Glow’s room. Don headed toward Glee’s room, so I followed. When I got inside, she had get-well-soon flowers and balloons that flooded the space. Don placed the baby carrier in the reclining chair and pushed it next to Glee. She was still banged up, but her skin had cleared up some. Shit was all fucked up, and I was wondering if I was in over my head.
Don stood in front of the carrier and folded his hands at his belt line. “You straight?”
Rubbing my left hand down my head, I sighed. “Yeah.”
He looked back at Glee, as if he was checking to make sure he could speak freely in front of her. If I weren’t in such a mood, I would’ve laughed at his nonsense because Glee was in a fucking coma. There was no way she would remember anything she heard him say once she woke up.
“I’m giving you a few days to settle in with your wife in Jagoda Bay, and then it’s time to get to work.”
“I think she gettin’ discharged tomorrow, so I won’t need a few days.”
Now he was speaking my language. I was ready to get this paper so that I could get my fucking life in order.
“I know when she’s getting discharged. Ain’t too much, I don’t know.” He watched for my reaction, but I was so fucking exhausted and drained that I didn’t have one to offer.
“So whatchu sayin’?”
“I’m saying, take care of your wife.”
I was going to make sure Glow was all right, but the money was and always would be the motive. It was the reason I’d joined this shit to begin with. I wanted “easy” after finding myself in jail. I’d join my brother’s mob because it seemed like easy money with work that aligned with my natural grind. I’d picked Glow to help secure my joining because she was an easy catch, not in need of much from a nigga. Now, here I was, finding myself dealing with shit that wasn’t easy. I had a good mind to take my ass back to Memphis, although I knew that wasn’t a real option.
“It’s a reason I tell you niggas to get married—” Don cut in while I was mentally assessing how I ended up in this situation again. That Big Nigga upstairs was playing with me, but I was deadass when I promised Leader that I wasn’t coming back to jail, so I was trying to keep my shit P.
“It ain’t just because I want a crowd of married muthafuckas around me. Marriage offers emotional stability, Tunan. I can’t have a bunch of unstable creatures running amok. It offers support and companionship. If you can’t stand to be around your wife, how the fuck are you good with being around niggas all day? Shit gay.
“Commitment. Responsibility. Loyalty. If you can’t be loyal to the woman who’s draining your dick and rocking your last name, you can’t commit to my shit nor be responsible for your tasks within your position. It’s about financial advantages. A real woman gone spend your shit, no doubt, but she gone help you manage it and possibly grow it, or she gone do what she do so good that you gone want to earn more just to keep her.
“The social recognition is important too. My men being married enhances our societal positions when we up against these rich-ass white folk. They already skeptical cuz I’m having more paper than them, so I’m not giving them shit to pickat. Married, faithful, about their business, busting guns before being busted-ass men.”
Here I was thinking you just had to be married because that’s how mob niggas operated. Had I known we were building off our marriages, I would have put more thought into whom I gave my last name to. I wanted to be in so I could get this money. I wasn’t financially or mentally prepared to be a real husband. I fucked with my impossible-ass wife, and I’d pay her bills and fuck her good from time to time, but running a fucking household? That hadn’t been part of the plan. I didn’t even have a fucking household to run, nor did I have the luxuries of obtaining one.
My fucking credit was shot. I didn’t have any assets, and I damn sure didn’t have the proper documents to start the process of getting a spot. That wasn’t shit to do, though. I could find the nearest fraudster to get me some paperwork, but still, when I got my own spot, it was going to be on some type of shit to lay my head and know that it was mine. Don was talking about some real structured, foundation-type shit. When Shio brought me in, this nigga should have been clearer about what the fuck was required of me. I was just a hood nigga from Memphis, fresh out of jail. Being the head of a fucking household wasn’t some shit I was interested in.But I was in now and knew that since I’d given my word, there was no backing out.
Not having a rebuttal that wouldn’t have made me sound ungrateful, I crossed my arms and bit my tongue. I had some shit with me, and Glow had some shit with her. After a year of my life had been snatched from under my feet, I was ready to get to the money. This nigga was talking about being a dutiful husband, and Glow didn’t even see my ass in that way.
“Settle in with your wife, honor her, and everything else will fall into place. You about to be very fucking wealthy, nigga. Be ready.”
Heavy boots had us shifting our attention toward the door. A stocky nigga in an olive green and black uniform with cuffs, a pistol, and mace attached to his holster appeared. My face contorted into a mug. I’d seen this pig every day in the pen. He was the only nigga in the jail who didn’t have an off day. There had been a few of his colleagues I would’ve loved to beat the shit out of when I caught them in the wild, but fortunately for him, he was cool as fuck. I still didn’t fuck with pigs, though.
He jutted his chin at Don, prompting him to move toward the hallway, and I watched as the door closed. I didn’t know what kind of business Don had with a correctional officer, but since that fucking pig was crooked as a motherfucker, maybe his ass was helping with a job.
The blanket covering the carrier shifted. It was the baby. She was fully covered, peacefully sleeping, with her silky black hair peeking out from under the pink hat on her head. Her little hands were clutching the burping cloth to her chest. Her mouth opened, exposing her gums, and then her nose wrinkled, indicating she was about to put those lungs to work. Her mama and auntie were out of commission, her grandma wasn’t in the right frame of mind to get her, and this hospital was too fucking filthy for a newborn. She’d been born in one just a few weeks ago, so hopefully, she’d be good. Before I could take a step in her direction, the door opened again. It wasn’t my business, but I was about to ask Don what was up with him and Officer Steroids when I staggered from who was walking in.
With a look of confusion on his face, he looked just the same as the day I told him to keep his head up. I hadn’t had any sleep, so I could very well be fucking hallucinating, but judging by the look on his face, I was certain he felt the same. I watched as his mug contorted from haze to fear to sorrow.
He hadn’t looked my way, the source of all his emotions lying in the hospital bed. From the moment he walked in the door, his eyes were on Glee.
“Wha…Wha…” He stumbled backward, chains clanking as he did so. He looked as if he were about to pass out; his dark skin had turned ashen gray.
