Our Mother’s Sons
1. Jeovanni
CHAPTER 1
JEOVANNI
With meticulous precision, I backed my black Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat directly in front of a warehouse and right beside my twin brother, Jovani’s Hellcat. Our cars were identical down to the limousine tint on the windows. A black SIG P365 rested in my lap while I drove, so all I had to do was pick it up and grip it tightly before exiting the car. It was dark out, and we didn’t have many lights outside of the building, but one dim light over the door brought Deuce’s enormous silhouette into view. I didn’t like to refer to Deuce as me and Jovani’s muscle because we were our own muscle, but he was definitely an extra set of eyes.
“Deuce,” I bobbed my head while greeting him. “You look like you lost a few pounds,” I joked. Deuce was damn near seven feet tall and weighed well over three hundred pounds. If he had lost any weight, it must have been in his ankles or some shit.
Knowing that I was full of it, he chuckled. “I hear you Boss Man.”
Deuce had been working for me and Jovani for the past three years. The more money we started making selling liquid cocaine under the direction of our mother, the more we realized that we needed someone to watch our backs and not just a crew of trigger happy reckless niggas. We needed skilled killers and strategic thinkers that were loyal above all else. The first two traits were easy to find but the latter, proved to be difficult. Money bred pure envy, and I had seen friends turn foe over a few dollars. The only people that knew the location of the warehouse that Jovani and I counted money and stored drugs in were me, him, and Deuce. Our mother didn’t even know about the building located a good fifteen miles outside the city limit. Because of the abundance of drugs that were stored in the warehouse and the amount of money that we counted inside; we needed extra eyes in the event of an ambush.
I didn’t put shit past anybody, so Deuce potentially crossing me, and my brother was possible, but we paid him handsomely and most days, his job was as easy as standing in front of a warehouse door for two or three hours. Walking past him, I punched the code into the door and waited for the click. Once I heard what I was listening for, I put in a second code, and the mechanical door lifted. I didn’t even wait for it to go up all the way. The moment I could bend my 6’4 frame and fit it underneath the door, I ducked in and hit the button to bring the door back down.
The warehouse was 2,000 square feet of large, open space. Upon entering, it looked like a regular empty room but a good twenty steps in and to the left was a long wooden table and two folding chairs. Jovani sat in one of the chairs, a blunt dangling from his lips, gun in his lap and another one on the table, pulling stacks of money from a duffel bag and placing them on the table. The only other items on the table aside from the gun and stacks of money were two money counting machines.
“’Bout time you showed up,” Jovani didn’t look up from the stacks of money he was pulling out of the black leather bag sitting at his feet. “Let it had been me though. Anytime you get anywhere first even if it’s two minutes before me, I get the speech about responsibility. You wanna hear it? ‘Cus I got that muhfucka memorized.” His eyes narrowed as he took a pull from the blunt that was pinched between his lips. Jovani finally looked at me, and I stuck my middle finger up at the reflection of myself. We possessed the exact same light skin tone, sharp noses, and long, thick hair. We both had beards and often ended up wearing our hair the exact same or in similar styles.
“Yo’ sad ass been waiting years for me to be late, so you could talk shit. I do run a business, fuck boy.” I sat down beside him.
“Yeah, yeah, but which business comes first? The one that puts M’s in our pockets.”
Jovani was right. Selling liquid cocaine had us making more money than the average person could count. Owning a bar was a dream of mine, and I made it come true. While Jonah’s was successful, it didn’t see a third of the money I made selling drugs. My upscale bar was named after our late father. It was a dimly lit classy place where people could come have drinks, watch sports, hear R&B music, smoke cigars, and eat finger foods like Calamari, grilled prawns, fried deviled eggs, etc.
I was hood through and through, but my place of business was for people with some decorum, respect, and tact. I didn’t even have security because my establishment didn’t garner that kind of crowd. It was a bar, but I still enforced a dress code. No sagging pants, slides, or skirts/shorts that had ass cheeks hanging out of them. The crowd that I attracted was perfect for washing a large portion of the drug money that I earned. The cheapest bottle of wine I sold was $299, and it cost $40 per glass.
Without a word, I sat down beside my twin, grabbed a stack of money, and removed the rubber band. Jovani emptied one bag and went straight to another. The whirr of the money counting machine and his movements, were the only sounds in the building for a few minutes. Jovani and I were literal replicas of one another. We knew each other better than we knew ourselves. We could sit for hours in silence or spend hours talking. He was my right-hand man and best friend. We loved to get underneath one another’s skin, but I’d die ‘bout my brother without thinking twice, and I knew he felt the same way. I hated a nigga playing with my brother more than I hated him playing with me. Despite being only four minutes older than him, I still felt like his big brother and his protector.
“What you think about Tony’s invitation to dinner?” My voice sliced into the silence filling the room.
“It’s got to be something big, but there’s no telling what it could be. You never know with these weird muhfuckas.” Jovani emptied the second duffel bag. It was time for him to help me count.
Jovani and I supplied hustlers from Ausnor Beach, Florida all the way to Miami, Orlando, the Bahamas, and even Atlanta, Georgia with some of the purest cocaine that had ever been grown. Thanks to our mother, Melissa Bendetti who had mob ties, along with me and my brother’s growing empire, we were connected to some of the most powerful people in the city. I knew as early as a teenager that people weren’t to be trusted. Not much surprised me, but when Jovani and I started rubbing elbows with lawyers, judges, doctors, politicians, etc. that were crooked as hell and out here laundering money, smuggling guns, and drugs, keeping guilty people off the street, and putting innocent people in jail, I was floored. America was corrupt as fuck and the more corrupt, the more lucrative.
Tony Waldorf, was a criminal attorney and the guy that Jovani and I had on retainer in the event that we ever got jammed up. We didn’t even have to pay Tony cash. Once a month, we gave him one kilogram of cocaine, and he promised that if we ever needed legal representation, we could call him no matter the time of day or night. He invited Jovani and I to a dinner he was having at his home. Jovani and I had been serving Tony coke for the past year, and we’d never stepped foot inside his house. In fact, we rarely saw him outside of our monthly transactions.
My brother and I were past the point of getting our hands dirty. For the most part, we only touched the money. With certain high-profile people, however, it was imperative that their illegal dealings were kept confidential, so many of them chose to only deal directly with me or Jovani. Tony didn’t sell cocaine. He was a functioning addict that liked to party and have sex with women and sometimes, men. Yeah, I knew all about his dirty little secret, but I didn’t judge. I couldn’t care less what Tony did with his dick as long as he handled his business if Jovani and I ever needed him.
Almost an hour after I arrived at the warehouse, Jovani and I had a grand total of $1,340,000 counted. That money came from four of our runners selling weight to our clientele, along with money that was collected from the four trap spots we had spread throughout the city. Over a million dollars for one day’s work was damn good. Too fuckin’ good. Numbers like the ones we saw daily made it real hard to pinpoint a date to create an exit strategy from the game. Most would call it greedy to keep hustling because me and my brother were filthy fuckin’ rich.
After splitting the money, my brother and I bumped fists prepared to part ways. “Love you fuck nigga.” I told my brother I loved him all the time because shit, I did. I doubted anyone could share a bond deeper than the bond of identical twins.
Jovani’s thick hair was braided to the back and so was mine. With both of us donning cornrows and the fact that he’d put on a few pounds of muscle so our weight was similar, some people in our family couldn’t even tell us a part. Of course, we had our own personalities, but we had a lot of the same quirks and habits like cracking our knuckles when we were angry, bored, or anxious. Or the way we both hated grits. Our grandmother used to joke that us not liking grits was ‘that white people shit’. Our mother was Italian, and our grandmother despised her.
Jovani smirked. “One day, you gon’ call me a fuck nigga, and I just might beat yo’ ass. Love you too lame ass.”
“Picture that shit,” I chuckled.
Jovani hit the lights and when the door lifted, Deuce was right there keeping watch. I patted him on his massive back. “Get home safe, D.”
“You too,” he bobbed his head at me while Jovani gave him a salute, and Deuce responded with another head nod.
I had to laugh when Jovani pulled off before me burning rubber. That nigga loved fast cars, hoes, and clothes. I could damn sure put that shit on, and my jewelry collection was impressive. I had an array of cars, a house, and a condo. I also had a thing for yachts and motorcycles, but where Jovani and I differed the most were our pass times. He showed my bar love for sure, but Jovani would rather be somewhere that allowed him to smoke his weed and where he could see half naked women twerking and doing the most. Any time two females fought, he watched intently hoping to see a titty pop out. My boy was definitely a little more lit than me, and that was cool, because that’s what made him, Jovani, and my laid back demeanor made me Jeovanni.
My last stop before heading home for the night was Jonah’s. I was going to put some of the money that I’d just collected in the safe in my office. I didn’t keep a lot of money in the safe at Jonah’s. Last time I counted, there was only $600,000 inside, but I damn sure refused to keep all of my money in one place. Thanks to having a legit business, I had a personal checking and savings account as well as a business checking and savings accounts. I had money in two separate safe deposit boxes, the home that I lived in, my condo, and an offshore bank account. There was money tied up in investments and assets ranging from artwork to beach front vacation homes.
At the bar, I went in through the back, so I wouldn’t have to walk through the establishment carrying a duffel bag. Inside my office, my eyes swept over the room to make sure nothing was out of place. The large space smelled of cinnamon and was spotless. Joanna didn’t play that nasty house shit. Growing up, she didn’t care about Jovani and I being males. As soon as we could hold a broom and mop, she gave us chores to do and they better be done right, or she was going to make us keep doing it until the task was completed to her satisfaction.
Glancing down at the Rolex on my wrist, I realized the bar would be closing in twenty minutes. I stuffed the stacks of cash inside my safe, stored the duffel bag underneath my desk, and walked out to the front of the bar. The sounds of Babyface floated into my ears as I paused by the bar to appraise the room. It always made me proud to see a full house. Jonah’s started out simply as something to do and the way that I not only did it but made it successful was a big deal to me.
Just as Babyface was crooning about only thinking of ole girl on two occasions, my gaze landed on a face I hadn’t seen in almost five years. Even in the sparsely lit room, her melanin rich skin was glowing. Rainah was all grown up and got damn she was fine. I had paid for enough bundles for women to know quality hair when I saw it, and the weave that came past her shoulders appeared to be of grade A quality. Even with her head slightly down, I still recognized her and when her head lifted, that smile…that smile made my chest tighten. Her stark white teeth, those piercing eyes. It suddenly hit me that I had missed the fuck out of her.
After all these years, thoughts of Rainah no longer dominated my mental, but seeing her face stirred up emotions that I’d rather not acknowledge. Suddenly, my mouth was dry, and I needed something to drink. Preferably something that contained alcohol. The shorty that I grew up with. The one who used to get mad and pout every time I beat her in a game of basketball. The person that females always accused me of messing around with when we only were just friends. Until one night, we decided to cross that line, and it ruined everything. The trance that I was stuck in did me a disservice because when Rainah looked slightly to the left to peer into the face of the man that she was sitting beside, she spotted me and instantly, the smile was gone. It vanished faster than I could blink.
Time seemed to stand still as we had a very brief stare off. She was the first to look away. It was only then that I bothered to pay attention to her companion. He was still in his uniform. PJ or Officer Cole rather. Inwardly, I chuckled. Yeah dating a police officer was right up Rainah’s alley. Right before our blowout, she was headed off to school to become a lawyer. She berated me and damn near bit my head off when she found out that I was a drug dealer. Something that she despised. Because of a tragic event that she suffered at ten years old, Rainah refused to date anyone that sold drugs. And I could only respect that.
I still couldn’t tear my gaze away from her as I wondered if anything had changed in the last four and a half years. Because if she was still an upstanding, law abiding, morally correct citizen, then she had no business with PJ because he was one of the officers on me and Jovani’s payroll.
* * *
I made it home by the grace of God because I didn’t even remember the twenty minute drive out to my 7,000 square foot home that sat on a little over fourteen acres of land. As I pulled in front of the security gate, I realized that thoughts of Rainah held my brain hostage for the past twenty minutes. The flashbacks of her face in my mind alternated between her smiling and laughing, the sex faces she used to make, and her slapping the taste out of my mouth as she glared at me with tears swimming in her eyes. My heart sank that day when Rainah glowered at me as if I disgusted her.
Maybe money wasn’t everything, but I came from the bottom. I could never see myself apologizing for being twenty-six years old and owning a home that ran me 8.5 million. I didn’t feel bad about having a home with a private entrance and helicopter landing pad. The five bedrooms and eight bathrooms that my house possessed didn’t repulse me. Walking on heated floors and staring up at cathedral ceilings only motivated me to go harder. Most kids that were from where I was from didn’t make it out. They were never supposed to live like this . Fuck no, I wouldn’t ever apologize for being handed the game and milking it for all it was worth. How the hell was I supposed to feel bad for having a sauna in my house?
Rainah was in my life for eleven years. We saw one another almost every day. Her absence in my life didn’t feel good but as time progressed, I had to come to terms with the fact that maybe it was for the best. Our lives didn’t align and attempting to force it would have been asinine. She was special but not special enough for me to walk away from the life I was destined to live. The years hadn’t been easy. In fact, they’d been draining and emotionally exhausting, and I still wouldn’t trade them for the world because at the rate I was going, I could retire at thirty and never have to work again a day in my life. Even if I lived to be one hundred years old, I’d still leave money behind after taking my last breath.
Taking my shoes off in the foyer, I picked them up and trekked through the house. My girlfriend’s custom pink G Wagon was parked directly in front of the house, so I knew she was inside. Celine and I had been together for a year. She had a high rise downtown, but she had a key to my place and stayed with me a few times a week. It was late, so I knew she wasn’t in the living room or the den. More than likely, she was in the bedroom or the theatre room. Finding her could wait. I didn’t eat at the bar, so I was starving. The kitchen was immaculate. Not a thing out of place nor a dish in the sink. More than likely, it was because the chef cleaned before she left. Celine didn’t do too much cooking, so my personal chef came by four to five times a week.
A shot of cognac preceded my meal because I was tired of the way I was obsessing over Rainah. I couldn’t even focus on the savory flavors of the rasta pasta that I was digging into. It was good. Damn good, but I was too focused on Rainah. When did she get back in town? How long had she been dating PJ? The thought made me frown. Fuck was she doing with PJ? Shaking my head I eased off the barstool and walked towards the minibar. I needed another shot. Why I even cared about what Rainah was up to was insane to me. She chose to end our friendship over some bullshit. The moment she walked out of my life, she should have been dead to me. But Rainah was very much alive and sexier than ever.
“Hey babe. I thought I heard you come in,” Celine smiled as she sauntered into the kitchen wearing a short black gown that fit loosely on her frame but did a poor job of hiding her curves.
The lace in the gown had her large, caramel colored areola on display, and the sight of her made my manhood stiffen. Celine’s extensions were up in a messy bun. Her lips were still slightly swollen from the lip injections she’d recently gotten, but that didn’t stop her from wrapping them around my dick that morning before I left the house. I loved when her face was bare, and I could see the faint spread of freckles on her face, but that was rare. Celine was the type of female that wore makeup to the gym. She was high maintenance for real, but I couldn’t even be mad at it. She kept herself up to par, and she didn’t want anything that wasn’t the best. More importantly, she had her own bread. Of course, she wasn’t rich, but she could maintain her lifestyle on her own. Her having a man was just an added bonus. I met Celine in the Chanel store. She was buying herself a $9,000 purse at the time.
Celine used to do nails. She had a nice nail bar in Miami, and she was dating a rapper at the time. Two seasons on Love and Hip Hop gave her a platform and put her in the spotlight. She stopped doing nails and began making content on social media, and she started a swimsuit and cosmetics line. Some guys had also reached out to her that were shooting an independent film, and she had roles in a few movies. They weren’t just on Tubi either. Some of the movies that she’d been in were streaming on Amazon Prime as well.
“What’s up?” I asked as she came over and kissed me on the lips.
“My father is going to be in town in two weeks, and he’s staying for five days.” Celine tossed over her shoulder as she opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine.
“Word? We have to have him over for dinner. Is he bringing his wife?”
“Yes, she’s coming. But ummmm you remember how I said when I get engaged, I want my father to be there? So just keep in mind he’ll be here for five days. When he leaves, I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”
I frowned as the dots connected in my brain. Right before we hit the one-year mark, Celine started dropping hints about marriage. The sad part was I couldn’t even be for sure that she wanted that badly to be a wife. If I had to bet money on the reason she was itching to get married, I’d say it was for the status. She wanted the ring and the title. Hell, then she’d probably try to get on Real Housewives or some shit. I had the bar, but I still got the majority of my money illegally. I wasn’t doing that reality TV shit. A camera crew would never make it over the threshold of my home.
Four years ago, I didn’t even want a girlfriend, so I knew with time feelings could change. I wasn’t opposed to marriage. I just refused to be pressured into it. They say when you know you know but after only one year, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Celine. After her best friend married an NBA player, Celine suddenly had a deadline. She claimed she didn’t want to waste her time and after a certain time frame if the relationship was stagnant, she’d leave. Celine had that right. She could put whatever rules and boundaries in place that she wanted, but I still refused to be given an ultimatum. Basically, she was telling me that she wanted me to propose while her father was in town. That wasn’t how that shit worked in my world.
When I didn’t respond, Celine eyed me over the rim of her wine goblet. “I’m just saying, Jeovanni. We’re four years away from thirty. The wedding that I want will take at least nine months to plan. I just don’t see the point of waiting. You love me, and I love you, so what’s the issue?”
I forked the last bit of pasta into my mouth and stood up. I could feel Celine’s glare practically burning a hole in my back as I washed the container I’d eaten out of. I took my time washing the Tupperware and fork and when I turned around, Celine was in fact staring at me.
“You don’t have anything to say?”
“What is there to say?” I asked with a frown. “We’ve had this talk at least ten times. I know you want to get married. Cool. But at the end of the day, you can’t tell me when to propose. How is that even romantic? Don’t you want to be surprised?”
“Not if it’s going to take you five years to do it. I’m not waiting around for yo”
“Celine!” I put more bass in my tone than I had intended to. “I know how you feel about marriage, timelines, and all that. Every time you spoke on it, I have listened. And you still can’t rush me into proposing. If you get tired of waiting, do what you feel is best.”
Celine drew back and before she could respond, I held up a finger.
“I had a long day, and I’m not arguing about this tonight.” Leaving her behind, I trekked through the kitchen and up the stairs.
Even after I collected boxer briefs to sleep in and walked into my spacious bathroom, I was still frowning. I brushed my teeth while the water in the shower warmed up and prepared to deal with Celine’s bratty behavior over the next few days. She’d get over it and if she didn’t, oh well. I loved her, but that wasn’t something I was bending on. If I dropped a few hundred thousand on a wedding I wanted it to last and with Celine’s taste, the wedding would probably run a half a mil or more.
In the shower, my facial muscles finally relaxed. As the hot water pelted onto my muscles, Rainah’s smiling face once again infiltrated my mind. Scrubbing my body aggressively it was almost like I felt the harder I cleaned my body, I’d scrub images of her from my brain. When I was done in the bathroom, the bedroom was dark and quiet. I doubted Celine was asleep, but if she wanted to fake it, that worked for me too. Easing underneath the covers, I turned my back to her and closed my eyes. I felt movement and was surprised when Celine placed a soft kiss on my back. She ran her hand down my side and reached inside my boxer briefs. When she gently gripped my manhood, I turned on my back.
Celine gave me award winning head. She damn near swallowed my dick whole and greedily swallowed my seeds after I erupted into her mouth. The fellatio was amazing, but not even that was enough to make me rush into marriage with her. Only time would tell if I felt like I wanted to let Celine don my last name.