CASSIUS “CASH” AMIN-RASHID
Cash hadn’t seen Jackie since that night.
The night Montana went ghost, taking Syxe and the kids off the grid, and the truth about Marcus finally came to light. He remembered driving through North Philly, tucked behind the tinted glass of one of his unmarked cars, still buzzing with a kind of rage that hadn’t settled yet.
He didn’t know exactly what he needed. Maybe to warn her.
Maybe to get her out too. Or maybe… just to see her again.
But what he saw, or rather who he saw—was Marcus.
On her step, in her face, touching her, running his hand through her hair like he had a right to.
Jackie stood beside her teenage son, who had his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. But she didn’t look scared.
She didn’t even look uncomfortable. From where Cash sat in the dark, she looked…
welcoming. Soft to soft. Almost like she wanted him there.
Cash’s grip tightened around the wheel until the leather creaked beneath his palm.
His finger hovered near the trigger he always kept within reach, and for a second, the shit would’ve been easy.
Marcus gone, just like that. But Jackie and her son were right there, and Cash didn’t harm women or children.
So he let it ride. Told himself he’d handle Marcus later.
Quietly and indefinitely. Still, the image burned in his memory.
Jackie, his Jackie—letting that married snake touch her like she belonged to him.
After everything Marcus had done. After all the ways he had tried to humiliate her.
But maybe he had read the situation wrong, and she wasn’t the victim.
Maybe she did belong to Marcus after all.
Cash exhaled through his nose and forced the thought away, grounding himself back in the present as he glanced around On Bended Bean.
The space had been transformed into something out of a Black fairytale.
Word was Jackie done it all, from the floating florals to the cascading books and poetry-lined walls.
Montana said she pulled it off with a crew of crackheads and a damn vision board.
Cash believed it, everything about the space felt like her.
The design had been intentional, thoughtful, and beautiful in a way that was effortless, just like Jackie.
“She did all this?” Zambia’s voice cut in beside him as she lifted her flute to her lips.
It wasn’t curiosity. It was a shot and Cash caught it immediately.
Soft on the surface but aimed all the same.
Rather than acknowledge it Cash nodded once barely looking at her.
Zambia Abdul-Muhammad was fine-shit personified.
She was beautiful, educated, and exactly the kind of woman his parents approved of.
But Cash wasn’t fooled. Zambia wasn’t here for love, just obligation and whatever was left of her trust fund.
That, and Syxe invited her. They both worked at his parents’ school, Syxe as the new Director of Specialized Education, and Zambia as a second-grade teacher who, ironically, hated children.
Zambia hated the job, hated the city, and hated being surrounded by what she once described as “dirty-ass kids with sticky-ass fingers and no home training.” She missed New York.
Missed her influencer friends, her sugar daddies, her curated version of chaos.
But here she was, back home Performing as usual.
Zambia always left a bad taste in Cash’s mouth.
He never knew what was real with her. “Well, whoever really did this decor,” she continued, scanning the room, “I need their info. For the wedding.” It was right then, a chill crept up Cash’s spine. “So that’s why you back in the city?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling like it meant nothing. “What else but duty would bring me back to this hope-sucking place?” Cash was about to respond when he felt a small tug at his pants. He looked down to find Maximus “Fat Daddy” Brown staring up at him.
“Mr. Cash, why you at my auntie wedding and not at work?” the boy asked, squinting like he was piecing together a case. Cash lifted a brow. “Is that how you greet me, Max?” Fat Daddy stepped back, regrouping, then straightened himself with effort. “As-Salaam-Alaikum.”
“Wa Alaikum Salaam,” Cash replied, a hint of warmth slipping into his voice.
Fat Daddy was new to the school, Syxe had practically begged Cash’s mother to let him in.
He wasn’t their typical applicant, but there was something about him.
He was rough around the edges, but kind, funny, full of potential.
His behavior could be a challenge at times, but the staff loved him, and ironically so did Cash’s parents, especially his father.
Fat Daddy turned to Zambia.“Hey, Ms. Zambia, you know my auntie too?” Zambia barely glanced up from her phone.
“Hey, Max. You look nice,” she said flatly.
“But to answer your question,” Cash added, crouching slightly to meet the boy at eye level,
“I’m here to see my best friend marry your aunt.”
“Monty Geez your best friend for real?” Max asked, eyes wide.
Cash opened his mouth to answer— Then felt it.
A shift in the room. The energy was familiar, feminine, and electric.
Just then he looked up and there she was.
Jackie approached slowly, like the ground wasn’t shifting beneath him with every step she took.
She wore a cream-colored, figure-hugging midi dress, her hair swept into an elegant updo with a soft fringe brushing her lashes.
She looked… Unreal. “I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes flicking between Max and Cash before settling on him.
“Is he bothering you?” Their eyes met. And just like that— For the first time in a year… nothing else in the room mattered.