You want the authority, the influence, and the legacy, but every time the conversation turns to finding a wife and building a family, you find another reason towait.Merge, power isn’t just about getting what you want; it’s about accepting the obligations that come with it. Until you understand that, you’re no different than somebody who admires the throne but doesn’t want the responsibility of sitting in it.”
Well, damn. Say what you really feel, Pops. Matter of fact, blink twice if you left anything out.
My father always did have a gift for taking a simple conversation and turning it into a personal attack. The crazy part wasn’t what he said, it was that I couldn't even argue with the shit.
What I said about Zonnique was all facts, though. She was the kind of woman who’d burn the kitchen trying to prove a point and post the ashes online for sympathy. I usually let those types go after the first sign of craziness. So, either her pussy was that good, I was playing with fire just to see if it would burn, or I was hoodoo-hexed.
I lived in New Orleans, where saints pray over sinners, the air smells like bourbon, and the same hands that pour holy water mix potions on Basin Street,so the hoodoo part wouldn’t have surprised me. In New Orleans,voodoo isn’t folklore; it’s a neighborhood business.Candles burn beside gun oil, spirits get called before sunrise, and every wish costs a person something they can’t get back.
“If you can barely stand to be around her, then why are you keeping her around?” my father asked.
“Well, shit, her pussy good,” I admitted with a shrug. “Not life-changing or nothing, but good enough to make her slightly lessirritating for about twenty minutes…thirtyif midway she don’t start crying, saying she loves me or turns the moment into a damn interview about my intentions.”
My father shook his head.
“But that ain’t the main reason I keep her around,” I continued, turning serious. “Letting Zonnique go could create bigger problems. She’s overheard conversations she couldn’t even fully understand and still walked away knowing too much. If she leaves, she leaves with information she can turn into leverage, and we both know leverage becomes a problemrealfuckin’ quick.”
My father gave the kind of nod that carried a warning more than an agreement. “Then you’d have to cut her off the Earth.”
That was his way of sayingkill herwithout letting the actual words leave his mouth.
Muthafuckas called me ruthless, but compared to my father, I was damn near eligible for sainthood. That nigga could make the devil looked soft-hearted.
A laugh slipped out of me. “Damn, Pops. You always skip straight past blocking a number and go directly to funeral arrangements. I said I don’t trust her ass. I ain’t say cancel her subscription to breathing.”
My father’s expression never changed.
“You know the Belvior creed, Merge.”
“Loose lips drown in the bayou, and secrets stay buried when the person carrying them is,” I finished for him.
I knew the creed by heart. I had followed it, enforced it, and buried people for breaking it. I just liked getting under my father’s skin from time-to-time.
Pops caught his wedding band between his thumb and forefinger, slowly rotating the polished gold around his finger.
“Son, if you don’t trust this girl and can’t see yourself marrying her,eventually, you’re gonna have to let her go. And when that time comes, you’ll have a choice to make.”
His tone remained calm, which somehow made the warning feel heavier.
“Women are emotional creatures. If this Zonnique girl is as clingy as you claim, nine times out of ten, she’s not gonna take you choosing another woman over her too well, especially if she’s been in the picture longer. Rejection doesn’t always come quietly. Hurt turns into anger, anger turns into revenge, and revenge usually comes with a running mouth. And we both know that once emotion takes over, loyalty is usually the first thing to leave.”
He stopped turning the ring.
“So, either she becomes the next Mrs. Belvior, or she becomes a memory nobody mentions twice.”
He looked down at the band one last time.
“Your call, son.”
That was my father… always presenting two doors when both of them somehow still led exactly where he wanted me to go.
As if he could hear my thoughts, he added, “And before you start looking at me like I’m forcing your hand, understand that I’m not telling you that this particular girlhasto be your wife. I’m telling yousomebodydoes. Hell, hold auditions if you need to. Whether Zonnique proves worthy of the name, gets replaced by somebody who is, or talks herself into a permanent silence, that decision belongs to you. But yo’ assisgetting married. That part isn’t up for debate.”
I exhaled deeply running a hand over my face.
“Son, if it makes you feel any better, I felt the same way whenmyfather,your grandfather, laid everything out to me. I fought it too. I thought I could outrun the blueprint. The only differenceis I didn’t have the luxury of choosing my wife… my father arranged my marriage.”
My eyebrows shot up, intrigued.
