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“I have statements in here. Some account information. Some of my investment documents that I didn’t want to leave inside of the house,” she said, and now that I was going through the gate, I turned to look at her again.

She was no longer looking out of the window. Instead, she was staring ahead of her, but once she felt my eyes on her, she turned to look at me.

“What accounts?” I asked, still not understanding what she was referring to.

“Thirty- seven years, Wolf. I’ve gotten a lot of money from your father in the last thirty-seven years. Not all of it went towards Hermès and Louis Vuitton. I spent some, yes, but I kept even more. You have to remember that I spent a lot of time in that house alone. I had to look out for me, and my future. I had to plan ahead. I had to be able to walk away from him and not need him for anything. Since that was the case, I’ve been putting money away for years, investing it in different accounts. I might have been the quiet wife, who stood in my husband’s shadow, but every dividend went back into my accounts. I reinvested every return. Because I didn’t pay bills, I never had to touch that money,” she told me.

“How much you sitting on?” I asked her, getting in her business, just wanting to hear what she was going to say.

She laughed after I asked that and then tucked her hair behind her ear. She did this thing where she playfully rolled her eyes too. My girl does that right before she talks her shit.

“I have millions, son. I’m sitting on millions,” she told me with confidence. Hearing her say that shit made me smile.

“That’s why you didn’t go in the house and touch those Birkin bags. I just knew that’s what you were going to pack up. That, some clothes and shit,” I voiced, and she scoffed after I said that to her.

“Fuck them Birkins! I can buy my own!” she snapped.

I couldn’t help but laugh hearing her curse like that. I wasn’t used to my mom cursing. She just didn’t do it. Even after raising four bad ass, manly ass sons, she never cursed at us. All the shit my pops used to put her through, and she still wouldn’t allow curse words to fly out of her mouth. That good girl image she used to sport was officially out of the door. He fucked around and created a monster.

“Ay, chill out with all that cursing before I take off my belt,” I joked.

She just waved me off. You could tell that she wasn’t paying any mind to what I just said to her.

“In all seriousness though Emaye, that’s dope. On the outside looking in, people might have thought that you were cool with the disrespect that pops was out here doing all these years. To know that you were on the backend, quietly planning your future is remarkable. I respect that. Shit, I respect you. I never looked down on you or felt like you were weak for staying with him all these years. I knew you loved him, and for that, I can’t judge you. You loved your family, and you didn’t want to walk away, and split us up. Me and my brothers are grown now. You no longer have to stay in a marriage to make us happy. Also, if you had never put money away, you know that I would have looked out. I would have taken care of you and made sure that you didn’t want for shit,” I told her, taking my eyes off the road for a second, just to get a look at her reaction.

She smiled at my words. Leaned over and kissed me on my cheek too.

“I love you son and thank you for everything. You’re going to make a great husband one day. I know you’ll be a way better husband to your wife than your dad was ever to me. Is that a goal of yours? I know that Deja is living with you. I don’t want the two of you to just shack up. If you love her, take the steps to marry her. I want grandbabies too,” she said, flipping this shit, and putting it on me.

Hearing her bring all that up caused me to shake my head in annoyance. I sat at the red right, running my hand down my face, listening to the shit that she was talking.

“Emaye, we barely been fuckin with each other for two months. We still in the beginning stages. Let us go through a few more seasons first. I fuck with her though. We’re actually at the stage where we’re expressing our love to one another. I don’t think we’re ready for marriage just yet though. She got shit that she has to handle first, and I got shit that I gotta handle on my end too,” I said enough without it feeling like I just threw Deja under the bus.

Basically, what I was saying was that I wasn’t marrying Deja until she was out of the club life. I respected her hustle. I would always respect it, but my wife wasn’t stripping. More than likely if she’s my wife, then she’s also the mother of my children, and Deja already knows how I feel about that. That part shouldn’t come to her as a surprise because we’ve had these conversations already.

I talked about it with my mom for a little while longer, and then we wrapped that conversation up. Not long after, I asked her where she wanted to eat. I wasn’t surprised when she told me that she wanted to eat at Morton’s. It was one of her favorite steakhouses.

That’s where I took her. I was glad to see her laughing and eating today because she hasn’t been doing much of the two lately.

During lunch, I felt like I might have gotten the old version of her back. She shared with me some of the things that she wanted to happen in her life, now that she was about to start the process of the divorce. She talked about wanting girlfriends. Going out with her girls, having a few drinks, and just talking shit like most women do. She talked about wanting to take trips with her girlfriends too. Those were things that she never did in her marriage. My pops could go on all kinds of trips with his friends, but he wouldn’t allow my mom to do it. Yes, it’s because he was controlling, but it’s also because he knew that he was out here doing his dirt, so I’m sure there was a piece of him that feared my mom might go out and do dirt of her own.

One thing she was sure about though was never getting into another relationship. According to her, she didn’t even want to see a man. I could tell that she wasn’t talking just to hear herself talk too. She meant these things, and I supported it. She talked about her family. Wanting to reach out to them because she’s missed them for years, but due to issues in the past with them not supporting her relationship with my father, they didn’t have any communication. Me and my brothers never met our family on my mom’s side.

After we finished eating, I took her back to Kingston’s house. He hadn’t made it home yet, but Mya was in the house with the kids. I stuck around for a little bit, vibing with my nephews and niece, and then I left. I left because I had someplace to be. I was going to pull up on my nigga Jamal. With my busy day to day life, and his life that involved work, children, and a wife, we weren’t always able to kick it with each other.

I went way back with Jamal. I’m talking elementary school days. Because I grew up with brothers, I never really had outside friends like that. My brothers were my friends. Jamal was the only friend I’ve ever had. I was the best man in his wedding when he got married years ago. He knew that if that day ever came when I got married, that I would ask him to be the best man in my wedding as well.

I was right there with him, along with the rest of his family, and his wife years ago on draft pick day. Nine years ago, Jamal was a first-round pick for the Dallas Cowboys. I was happy for my boy, even though I talked shit the rest of the night because I’ve never been a Cowboys fan.

Jamal played wide receiver. He did six years in the NFL, and in those six years, I made it my business to be at just about every game. I knew how much it meant to him to live out his dream and play in the NFL. He used to always say that the day he retired, he was going to make history. He said that because according to him, he planned on being in the best shape of his life for the rest of his life, so he wanted to be in his 50’s still playing.

With this thing called life, you know that shit never really goes the way we want it to. Three years ago, Jamal was in the prime of his career. He was right in the middle of his sixth season when he suffered a career ending injury, forcing him to retire. It was so fucked up because with the damage done to his knee, he didn’t stand a chance of not only sitting out for the rest of the season, but they told that nigga he couldn’t play again. He was fucked up behind that shit too. Months of physical therapy. Months of just trying to shake back mentally.

I was happy when he pulled himself out of that dark place and found his way back. Just a year ago, he took a job right here in Miami, working as an NFL broadcaster. This nigga could talk football in his sleep. He’s been that way since we were kids, so the job was very fitting. Even though he was no longer on the field, he was still a part of the atmosphere, and I know he loved that.

It didn’t take long for me to pull up on him. I pulled up on him at his sports bar that he owned in Davie. The bar has been open for about eight months now. It was a popular spot. One of the spots where a lot of men came to watch the games, drink, shoot pool, and things like that. He hit me earlier, asking me what I was going to be doing this afternoon because he was going to be over here. I told him that I was going to pull up on him, so here I was.

Judging by the big body Bentley Bentayga that was parked out front, I knew that he was on the inside.