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“I mean, she ain’t jumping down my back, telling me that I need to pick up the phone for Dream or ride around there and pick her up,” he said.
“Of course, she ain’t! The less time that gets spent with Dream equals more time spent with her sons! Niggas lie so bad that I don’t even think y’all know when y’all fuckin’ lying! How the fuck you didn’t want to tell my sister about your son, when that little boy is five, just like Dream! Loyal just went in a year ago, meaning that you had four fuckin’ years to tell her that shit! Four, nigga! Yo, I wouldn’t be fuckin’ surprised if you ratted on my sister and had her sent to prison, so you could get her off your back once shit finally hit the fan for you! I always questioned why only Loyal went down for that fraud shit when you were doing that shit right along with her. You were more into that shit because you taught her a lot of shit that she didn’t even know—”
“Man, I know a nigga may be dirty, but I ain’t that fuckin’ dirty to the point where I would send my bitch to prison! Loyal is locked up because she started moving reckless with her shit. I cleaned up my dirt a little bit better than she did, and—”
“And as a nigga, you was supposed to help clean up her dirt too. Get the spots that she might have missed!” Truth spoke up after being quiet this whole time.
He moved me out of the way, making me get behind him. I knew it would only be a matter of time before he said something. He was just allowing me some time to blow off some steam because he knew how I was coming when it came to my sister. I loved Loyal more than anything. I still go through my little moments when I broke down crying because I wanted her home. I wanted her to be with her daughter because I knew how much Dream meant to her. I was planning my wedding, and I was pregnant again, with my fingers crossed that this pregnancy would be a success. It would mean the world to me for my sister to have been there with me, celebrating these moments. My sister would have been working alongside me in my boutiques and coming up with some bomb ass ideas. She had a fashion sense that was better than anyone I knew.
“First of all, if you love your shorty like you say you do, you were never supposed to put her in a situation where she was playing Russian Roulette with her freedom anyway. Ain’t no way in hell I would be okay with my woman out here scamming, especially if that same woman was the mother of my daughter. Just be a man about your shit and say that you was fuckin’ around, and you got caught the fuck up. Even if you got caught up, that shit don’t have anything to do with you being there for your daughter. All these dead beats the world already got, and you jump on that bandwagon, for what? So Loyal’s feelings don’t get hurt? That’s bullshit, and you know it. Don’t worry about it, though. Dream gon’ be straight. I got her,” Truth told him.
Dream adored Truth. I think a big part of the reason she didn’t mind that we were moving to Cali is that she knew she would get to spend time with Truth, plus she could go to the basketball games, which she loved.
“The next time Dream asks about you, I’ll just let her know that you’re dead. Take care,” I said and then headed back to the car.
The fact that this nigga didn’t even try to run after me, interject, and fight for his daughter, just let me know right then and there that this nigga wasn’t shit. He would much rather put this new bitch’s feelings on a pedestal and the sons that he had with her than to think about my sister and their beautiful daughter. I still felt like there were missing pieces to this story, that I would probably never know about because I would never give this nigga any more conversation, and I was going to make sure I kept Dream from around his ass.
Maybe in the future, when she was older and mature enough to make a decision on whether she wanted a relationship with her father, then that would be her decision to make, but in the meantime, I wasn’t about to expose her to somebody who was going to be half loving her, so he could appease his bitch. The fucked-up part about all this was when I would have to tell this shit to my sister. Not only was this bitch showboating around with a new bitch, but I left out the part about me seeing rings of both of their fingers, and they had two children together.
Now, I don’t want to body shame, but I don’t know if sis was working with leftover baby weight around her stomach area, or if she was pregnant again by Chance. Whew! The mess.
“Congrats again on another successful closing. I just need you to sign right here on this last page, and that’ll be it,” one of the owners of the lending company that I worked with said.
There was a big ass smile on my face as I signed my last signature on the dotted line, to the point that my damn cheeks were hurting. Not to brag or no shit like that, but I had been killing this house flipping game. I remember the day after my welcome home party when I sat down with a bunch of people who were already in this business. They explained how the shit worked, and it just sounded like a bunch of gibberish to me. Then they talked about how much money could go into renovations, but what really had me second-guessing the shit is when they talked about spending thousands of dollars on renovations, only for the house to possibly not sell at the price I wanted it to, or not sell at all. I was looking at it in the sense of me losing money instead of gaining.
To a street nigga like me, that was equivalent to cops running in a trap house and confiscating all the money and the work. Every street nigga knew that without some money or work, it’s hard to eat. For me, eating was the goal. I had a lifestyle that I was used to living before I was sent to prison, and I wanted to come home and still be able to afford that lifestyle but to just switch up my occupation.
If I hadn’t jumped on this business venture, I knew that my only option was for me to take my ass back out into the streets. For so long, that was all a nigga really knew. Although it was an option, I didn’t want to revert to that shit because I had two kids, my parents, my grandmother, and now my wife, who I needed to be here for. I couldn’t make reckless, selfish ass decisions like that.
It took me some time to figure out how to get in this business and actually run it in a way that I was making more money than I was spending, but I felt like I had it now. I knew the different avenues to take, and that way, I kept my pockets heavy. I said this before, and I’ll say it again, a lot of the money came from houses that had undergone a foreclosure. Yeah, you’re going to more than likely spend a lot of money flipping a house that was foreclosed because many times, the house needed a lot of repairs, but once you handled that hard part, people flocked to these newly renovated foreclosed homes because, in the end, it becomes damn near a brand new home. It also depended on the area the home was located in. Right now, it was summer break; the kids were out of school, so this was the perfect time for parents to look into moving. Business was definitely booming.
I just couldn’t believe that this was the life I was living right now. Even when I was told that I needed to dress a little different, cover up my tattoos, pick my jeans up, and take my golds out of my mouth because it could affect me in this business, I still didn’t chang
e shit about me, and right now, I was signing my name on a million-dollar home that I’d been working on now for just a few short months because the house didn’t need that much help. I had this fat ass check sitting to the right of me, that I couldn’t wait to deposit into my account.
To celebrate this shit, I wanted to take my wife and my kids out tonight for dinner because this was big. This was the biggest home that I’d flipped since I’d been doing this, so I deserved a lobster and steak dinner tonight and some bomb ass, nasty ass sex from my wife.
“Mr. Pride would be so proud of you, Billionaire. I have to admit that I thought he was making a big mistake when he passed down his business to you. I was friends with him before he was sent to prison, so I personally know how hard he worked to get his business and to keep it afloat. I had my fears that you would run it into the ground, but you’re doing great. Don’t tell him I told you this, but you run it ten times better than he ever could,” Lenny, one of the realtors who had been sticking by me for months said, as I stood up.
He extended his hand for me to shake, and I did just that. I wasn’t shocked that Lenny had second thoughts about me because when I first met him, he was one of the people who told me that I needed to switch up my attire. I was glad that I could prove him and everybody else wrong who had doubted a nigga.
“Thank you, man. I appreciate that. That shit really means a lot to me, coming from you,” I told him.
We shook it up, and I lingered in the office for a few moments more before I walked out of the building, holding onto this check that was in my hands pretty damn tight. A nigga was so fuckin’ happy that I could’ve skipped to the damn car. I had a little time on my hands before I had to pick my son up from football camp, and Khari was at my mother’s house, so I decided to do a pop up on Denim. It had been a few days since I walked in on Denim and my wife arguing on the phone, and although I said that I would handle it, I had been so wrapped up in handling business that I just ain’t have the time. Not to mention, I was actually dreading this conversation.
Denim was a touchy place for me to speak on because there was still a whole bunch of malice in my heart for shorty. Just because I had Khari living with me pretty much full time now, that didn’t change shit about how I felt about the circumstances. Shit, I still found myself looking at that little girl and having to remind myself that she wasn’t mine. It ain’t even been a year yet since I found out that news, so this whole topic would always be touchy for me.
I really thought that once Denim woke up from her coma, she would grace the world with her presence and be on some new shit, but she was still on the same bullshit that she was on before she got sent to the hospital. My life was somewhat peaceful right now, which is why I needed to holler at her because I wanted to keep it that way. The last thing I wanted was for my wife to be arguing with any broad and stressing herself out about shit like that.
Denim had been staying at her mother’s house since she’d been discharged from the hospital, so that was where I pulled up. Although Denim wasn’t doing any driving because she was still doing her physical therapy, her car was parked in the driveway alongside her mother’s. There was another car in the driveway, and I really ain’t know who it belonged to. I pulled my car behind the Mercedes that Denim had, and I quickly got out. Pulling up my sagging jeans, I did a light jog to the door. I knocked, and within a few seconds, the front door opened.
Denim’s oldest daughter, Rylo, answered the door for me. I pulled her into me, giving her a quick hug.
“What’s up? Where yo’ mama at?” I asked.
“In the living room with the therapist,” she said.
I nodded and then reached into my pocket and pulled out my money clip. I took off two crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills and gave it to Rylo. She smiled big, leaning in and thanking me for the money.
