19. Damier
T he steady rhythm of “Hail Mary” by Tupac filled my ears, the beat pounding through my wireless headphones like a war drum. My feet hit the treadmill in time with the music, the speed cranked all the way up as I pushed myself harder, faster. My lungs burned, but I didn’t stop. The pain didn’t bother me—it never did. It was a reminder that I was alive and that I still had control.
I’d been walking and running for close to forty minutes, the sweat dripping down my back, soaking into the waistband of my shorts. The view from my gym overlooked the city, but I wasn’t paying attention to the skyline. My mind was somewhere else.
Dream.
The thought of her had been running laps in my head since we got back from Turks. Every time I replayed the way she said “yes” to my proposal, a weight lifted off my chest. She was my peace in a world full of chaos, and now I had the ring on her finger to prove it.
But peace didn’t come easy—not for me, not in this life.
After finishing my run, I stepped off the treadmill and grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from my face before moving to the punching bag in the corner. My gloves were already on the floor, waiting for me. I slid my hands in, the familiar tightness grounding me as I squared up to the bag.
The first punch landed hard, the impact jarring up my arm. I followed it with another, then another, each one carrying the weight of everything on my mind.
The baby. The meeting with Felix.
Finding out Donshay was mine had shifted something in me. I wasn’t just living for myself anymore. I had responsibilities now—a son, a fiancée, a future I wanted to build. But I also had questions.
I thought about what my mother said, telling me to let go of the search for my baby’s mother. She wanted me to focus on the present, to leave the mystery behind. But how could I? How could I ignore the fact that someone left my son in a random place, at Dream’s office of all places?
What if there’s more to it?
The punches came harder, faster, the chain rattling as the bag swung under the force.
After over an hour in the gym, my body felt lighter, my mind slightly clearer. I took off the gloves and headed to the mini-fridge. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed back upstairs, the morning sunlight flooding into the panoramic windows.
When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I grabbed it, pausing the music that was still in my ears. King’s name flashed on the screen, and I swiped to answer.
“What’s that word, Unc?” I said, catching my breath.
“Waddup, youngin’? Why I gotta hear from the streets that you got a secret baby?”
I shook my head, smirking as I leaned against the wall of my gym. “Man, who told you that?”
“You know ya momma told me everything,” he said, laughing. “You slipping, nephew. A secret baby and secret engagement? What’s next, you secretly going to church?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You wild, Unc. I haven’t told anyone yet. Only my momma, now you, and Dream know about the baby. I proposed to Dream in Turks, and I told her to keep it to herself for a while. I been having too much bad luck. I’d rather not have anybody hating on my shit.”
“Baby and engagement, huh? Ya momma even told me you ain’t want her at the meeting with Felix. Sounds like my nephew coming off the titty,” he joked, but there was a layer of sincerity in his tone. “Proud of you, though. You stepping up. Your pops would’ve liked to see this side of you.”
I let his words sink in, nodding even though he couldn’t see me. “Thanks, Unc. Trying to get my shit together. But you know this life ain’t easy.”
He sighed. “Ain’t that the truth. But let’s get to it. Felix will be here tomorrow evening, and I told him we were meeting at your club.”
“That’s good. I’m officially opening the spot up tomorrow, so that’s perfect.”
“Let’s throw that nigga a party of his own,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “A party, huh? You been watching State Property again?”
He laughed. “Yeah. You know how these Spanish niggas are tho’—act like they’re cool until you pull the rug out from under them. I figured we just get him over with.”
“Stand down for now,” I said, wiping my face with a towel. “I want this to go as peacefully as possible. Let’s check his temperature first.”
“Fair enough,” King said, though I could hear the reluctance in his voice. “But you know I never liked this Felix nigga. This is your dad’s mans. Get him out of the way. He might not even make it to dessert before he pops off.”
“Then we’ll handle it,” I firmly said.
King sighed. “Alright, nephew. I’ll make sure everything’s ready. See you tomorrow night.”
“Bet, Bring Aunty and tell all my cousins to come outside. I know my shit is private, but not tomorrow night. I want to be around my peoples after I handle this Felix nigga.”
“No doubt,” and with that, we ended the call.
I was still pacing around the gym, my thoughts circling, when my phone buzzed again. This time, it was Dream.
“What’s up, beautiful?” I answered, my voice softening as I headed to the shower.
“Hey,” she said, her tone light but carrying a hint of frustration.
“You good?” I asked, catching the edge in her voice.
She sighed. “I didn’t call you last night because I had a fight with my best friend.”
I smirked, tilting my head. “You throwing hands? That sounds crazy. But I was wondering why you didn’t call me or answer my text. I thought you passed out on that tequila I gave you.”
“I know how to handle myself when it comes to beating a bitch’s ass,” she said, and I could hear the sass creeping into her voice. “I beat the brakes off her scandalous ass. After we drank that damn tequila, she was spilling all the tea, but I poured it on her ass.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You serious right now?”
“Dead serious,” she said. “She deserved it, though. I’ll tell you everything when you come by after I get off work.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, grabbing my towel.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice softening.
“Always,” I replied. “I’ll bring dinner.”
As I ended the call, I couldn’t help but smirk. Dream fighting was a new one, and I was curious as hell to hear the full story. But if someone had crossed her enough to throw hands, they’d better hope I didn’t get involved next.
I showered for thirty minutes and then got out to get dressed for the day. I wasn’t going to the office today, so I threw on something casual. I had to meet with my boy Lil Ken because I was looking for Donshay’s mother, but I wasn’t telling my mother. I knew my boy could find anyone, even if we had to use DNA.
After getting dressed, I grabbed my keys and headed out. Lil Ken’s mansion in Calabasas was about thirty minutes from my penthouse, depending on traffic. The drive was smooth, the LA sun blazing as I weaved through the morning congestion.
I hadn’t seen Ken in a minute, and knowing how lupus had been hitting him lately, I wanted to check in. Ken wasn’t family by blood, but loyalty made us closer than most relatives. He’d built his empire in the music industry, but more importantly, he was the kind of man you could trust to get things done. If anyone could help me find Donshay’s mother discreetly, it was him.
When I pulled up to his sprawling estate, the gate swung open automatically, and I eased the car into the driveway. His house was massive, the kind of place that screamed success, but it still felt like a home. Kids’ toys littered the yard, and the faint sound of music spilled out as I walked to the door.
“Yo, what’s good, big dog?” Ken greeted me as I stepped into his home office. He was sitting behind a massive desk, a glass of water in one hand and his phone in the other. Despite everything he was dealing with, he still had that sharp, unshakable energy.
“Chillin’, my nigga,” I said, dapping him up. “How you feelin’?”
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “You know how it is with this lupus shit. Some days are better than others. Today’s decent, so I’m making the most of it. What brings you out here?”
I sat down across from him, pulling the folded birth certificate from my pocket. “I need your help. I’m looking for someone.”
Ken raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
I hesitated, but there was no point in dancing around it. I told him everything, starting with the bitch leaving my son at Dream’s office.
Ken’s expression shifted, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by sharp curiosity. “That shit sounds crazy, bro.”
“I know, my nigga,” I said, leaning forward and handing him the paper.
Ken unfolded it and scanned the information, his face immediately twisting into a frown. “This birth certificate is fake as fuck, my nigga,” he said, shaking his head. “Whoever this chick is, she either had that baby at home or in a damn back alley. No hospital is attached to this.”
Anger flared in my chest, but I kept it in check. “So, what’s next?” I asked.
Ken leaned back in his chair, tapping the paper. “We can track her through DNA. Ancestry databases, paternity connections—it’s not fast, but it’s thorough. Also, you need to get the security tapes from Dream’s office. If there’s any footage of the drop-off, that’s your best lead.”
I clenched my jaw, frustrated with myself. “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Ken said, his tone calm. “You’ve had a lot going on. This ain’t about how fast you move—it’s about moving smart, especially with a kid.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll get the tapes. And I already got my DNA test done—he is mine. No doubt about it.”
Ken gave a low whistle, leaning forward. “How does it feel, being a father?”
I hesitated, running a hand over my face. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t spent time with him, you know? It’s still sinking in.”
Ken nodded, studying me closely. “You’re stepping into some real shit, my nigga. But I know you’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, I will.”
We spent the next hour going over how he’d dig into Donshay’s mother, with Ken promising to get started immediately. As I left his mansion and headed back toward the city, I felt a mix of anticipation and determination. With Ken on the case, I was one step closer to getting the answers I needed.
Now, I just had to keep everything else in my life from falling apart in the meantime.