“What’s up, Ma?” I greeted her while walking over to my Bentley Coupe waiting in the circle drive.
“What do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” she quipped.
“I got a little problem, and I need your help.”
“Name it,” she said without hesitation.
That was just how Mama was. I smiled and got into my car.
“Ivy is here,” I conveyed, pushing the start button.
“She is? When did that happen?” I could hear the astonishment in her voice.
“I don’t know. I guess her auntie got tired of playing the parental role. Either way, she’s here.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. You are her father. It’s where she should be. What do you need me for?”
“I need to get her in school and all this other shit I don’t know shit about. I got a lot going on?—”
“Quency, make time. She is your child,” my mother chastised. “It takes a couple of hours outside of your day to do that. I can look into the schools from here and send you what I find. But I’m not about to fly halfway around the world for this. I have enough to deal with here, and I can’t just leave right now.”
“A’ight, fine,” I grunted, not liking where it conversation was going. I felt a lecture coming on next.
“Maybe you should consider trying to settle down. Find a woman to share and build a life with. If you didn’t keep yourself so closed off?—”
“I get it, Ma. Thanks. I gotta go,” I stated, suddenly in a rush to get her off the phone.
“Oh, now you gotta go when I start talking that real,” she countered with a chuckle.
“I gotta go ’cause I called for a solution, and you didn’t give me one,” I quipped, agitated.
“Fine, I got one for you. Don’t call me on the bullshit when it arrives either,” she said complicitly.
“Bye, Ma.” I hung up and tossed my phone into the passenger’s seat.
She was no fucking help. For the first time, I needed her on some real shit, and she wanted to play that handle it yourself bs. I didn’t have time for that with everything else I had going on already. Somebody to help me with Ivy was ideal right now. She was a distraction I didn’t see coming. I’d been plotting and planning for the last six years, and it was starting to feel like all the work I was putting in behind the scenes was in vain. Don’t get me wrong; a nigga loved his child. It was just hard sometimes. Ivy’s mother, Ivana, was killed when she was six years old. My life had never been the same. Since then, I put every ounce of attention I had into running my business and finding out what the fuck happened to the love of my life. What we had could never be duplicated. The thought of even letting another close to me in that way again lowkey made a nigga’s anxiety spike. Loving somebody and then losing them hurt like a bitch. A nigga’s heart was too bruised to even consider putting it through some shit like that again.
I wasn’t the kind to fall in love to begin with. Ivana and I met on some chill shit and hit it off. She was fine as fuck, smart, and had a comeback for all my bullshit. She understood, or at least took the time to understand parts of me that even I didn’t analyze. She was my best friend, my homie, and my lover. We made a baby together, and I was ready to do a complete U-turn with my life for them. We had six years together, and they were a blessing. Then one day she was gone, and I felt like I had been coasting along ever since. I wasn’t holding on to anything. Nothing kept me grounded.
Gripping the steering wheel, I ripped through the backroads until I jumped on the highway, speeding into the city for the day. Ledge had reached out to me and asked me to meet him so that we could talk about our ventures. Lyra had me pissed off, Harbor had frustrated me, and a nigga still needed a way to flip a bunch of dirty fucking money. I was hoping more than anything that by the end of the day I solved one of the problems so that I didn’t risk blowing a mothafucka’s head off.
HAROLDLAWSON
There was alwaysa gray area to life. I could easily blame all of my transgressions on the era that I grew up in, but as the saying went, at some point, we all had to be held accountable for our actions. Unlike my children, I was raised on the east side of town. All they knew was picket fences, family dinners, and vacations. A quiet, normal life. We spent every holiday together, and my weekends were full of my daughter’s volleyball and basketball tournaments during the early years.
When their mother split on us, I was left with two young women that I had no idea how to raise. Harmonie grew out of control. She partied, stayed out late, failed at everything, and spiraled downward after losing her mother. Harbor was the complete opposite. She was quiet, much more reserved, and always thinking. I swear from the day she was born, she was plotting on how she could take over the world.
Although Harmonie was older, she acted much more immaturely than Harbor. They were two years apart in age, but Harbor had always been wise beyond her years. She did everything early and excelled at it. She always knew what she wanted, and much like me, she gravitated toward technology. Harmonie was my daughter, and I loved her dearly, but she wasmediocre, and was perfectly fine with that. She thrived off of the spotlight. Harbor, on the other hand, was low key. She didn’t like attention. The other side of her was so much like her mother, Halo, that I sometimes had to do a double take. She took risks, she stood her ground, and she didn’t allow anyone to bully her.
Posted in the office of my home, I held a picture of my sweet baby girl as tears misted my eyes. It had been a year to the day since she’d been gone. It was amazing what a human being could endure. I hadn’t laid eyes on my daughter or spoken to her in so long I was starting to forget what it was like. I still got that ill, nauseating feeling when I thought about the last time I saw her. Reflecting on our last conversation over and over again was enough to drive anyone crazy. I’d always been considered levelheaded. Of all the friends that I had, I was the one trying to talk niggas out of the stupid shit. But not everybody could be saved. Here I was, teetering on the dark side with a closet full of hidden bones waiting to be uncovered.
“What you in here thinking about?” Chaya’s childlike voice asked from the doorway.
My gaze softened while I stared back at her. A glass of bourbon rested in one hand against my knee while I peered back at her. Yes, I was drunk as fuck, and that was a regular occurrence for me. These days, being sober just didn’t seem to be working out. I placed Harbor’s photo back on the desk and brought the glass to my lips for a swallow.
“Nothing,” I muttered, avoiding her critical stare.
Chaya’s large belly ushered her into the room. She was just about due with our son. Although it was supposed to be a joyous time, resentment clouded those feelings. She paused at my side and lowered a gentle hand to my shoulder.
