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“Jas!” Celestine fell into a full-on cry I couldn’t give a fuck about at the moment.
The first time I’d seen her flex on Ashira down inDella, I didn’t like it then but didn’t get involved. Now that they were involving my child, I had to draw the fucking line.
Noel’s punk ass turned away, in his wise way, telling me he didn’t want the smoke. Understanding that, I left the room. Not ten steps in, Ashira appeared with heavy, red eyes. She looked so broken, so embarrassed. My fucking chest tightened and felt torn. A part of me wanted to go back in there and cuss the Witherspoons the fuck out and hope Noel’s fat ass tried me so I could finally lay him out.
A bit of me wanted to hold Ashira and tell her she’d be okay: Chivon and I would always honor her in ways her mother didn’t. Then there was the part of me who wanted to ignore her. I could go straight to the door and resume my day because this woman was strong. She didn’t need comfort. Ashira was every bit of the dog Jug described her to be. Nothing could hold her down. Not her mother, who blamed her for her father’s decision to cheat. Not growing up without a mother because she resented her. Not her father, throwing his company on her instead of allowing her to chart her own path. Not me, dragging out the process of revealing who I was when I knew the girl had fallen in love with me.
In an open wool trench coat hiding a fucking mesmerizing body in a leotard and tights withUggboots, I hardly recognized the badass boss bitch who ruled in the boardroom and took the world by storm using her body. She had been the it girl in dance entertainment virtually since I’d put a baby in her. Ashira’s horizon was beyond my protective corner in the world I’d created strategically. She’d been worldwide with social media followers surpassing the one million mark. So many niggas wanted her, and countless women wanted her juice. She was a leader and a winner.
But now, she’s a fucking bruised girl, being hurt and ignored again by her parents…
She couldn’t even look me in the face for long. I’d left her hanging last month when her little sister played her over the Ava shit. There was no way I could do it now. Without thought, I pulled her into my chest, and before I could wrap my arms around her small frame, Ashira’s arms were clawing at my back, and face nestled into my chest. I didn’t believe she was crying; she didn’t move, not even the tips of her fingernails biting into my shoulder blades. We remained that way for a short while. Then I felt her take three deep breaths, pulling air from beneath my sweater then discharging it. Before I knew it, Ashira released me.
She didn’t speak; she just squeezed my hand before walking toward the front of the house. I followed, passing rooms and turning a corner where Amy and Chivon were in the hallway near the entrance. Not having a clue about the drama concerning her, Chivon danced and sang while holding a juice box. Ashira reached her first, falling to her knees and engulfing her in a hug. Amy looked to me for instructions. I forced a smile, knowing it was fake. Then I gripped our nanny’s shoulder gently to attempt communication that way.
After a deep sniffle, Ashira kissed Chivon’s cheek. “Hey. How about we head home now and get started on those cookies?” Her smile was sweet and tone so soft.
But Chivon’s eyes were on me, then turned long. “I want go home, Mommy. I go home. I go to your house tomorrow.”
Amy’s shocked expression met mine. I tried remaining calm. Where had this thing come from where not only Chivon preferred being with me but only referred to my house as her home? She had two homes—twogoodhomes. Right now, her mother didn’t need to feel less than adequate. My baby had no idea what had been resting over her head the past hour.
Dropping to a squat next to them, I tried, “Baby, you’re supposed to be home with Mommy today. Remember? You like baking cookies at your house with Mommy.”
“No, Daddy. I go Mommy house tomorrow.”
“Chivon—”
“No.” Ashira stood to her feet. “It’s okay.” She kissed Chivon’s head and forced a smile, but I saw the glossing of her eyes immediately. “She can stay at your place. I don’t want to upset her right now.” She cleared her throat. “Amy, you can take her to Jas’ place tonight. Call me if you need anything, though. Okay?” She took off before Amy could answer.
Falling back until my ass hit the back of my ankles, one word screamed in my head.
FUCK!
May | Three Years Later
“They don’t get the profit margin,” Sadik explained to a small group gathered on the deck of my home, just outside the den. “They come with all these ideas and focus on the cost investment, then wonder why they’re constantly losing money.”
I nodded, enjoying the view of the water. A passing thought of taking the boat out came and left as I peeped the small ripples.
“What was the most awkward business you purchased?” Man asked him.
“Ummmm…” he hummed, scratching his chin. “Maybe masters.”
“Masters?” Jug echoed.
Zebedee Baker blew out smoke from his cigar. “Music catalogue.”
“Yeah.” Sadik repeated, “Masters.”
“Damn! Like Michael Jackson,” Roberto Perez laughed. His accent was thick, but we followed the reference.
“That man is long gone with the fattest estate from buying up all those masters.” Zeb dumped his ashes into the tray.
“So, it’s like…real paper in that, Deek?” Man wanted to know.
“It can be.” Sadik shrugged, blowing out smoke. “For me, it was an investment in a music company someone I knew was launching. He had the talent but needed investors to roll out the business…advances, touring…all that.”
Roberto swirled his glass in his hand. “Which artists?”
