Chapter 7 #2
Everything was spotless, better than spotless, this nigga crib was glistening, just like I had instructed for it to be.
It was perfect in a way that only comes when you spend months thinking about someone and wanting them to feel it the moment they step back into the world.
Zaire had always been a real neat freak and overly organized.
I made sure he came home to nothing out of place and everything fully stocked.
He walked to the bar slowly, taking it all in, staring at what was waiting there. Don Julio. Hennessy. Dussé. Everything he liked stocked and ready to go, the bottles new and untouched, sitting there like a welcome home that didn't need words.
"Yo," he said quietly, and that one word carried so much gratitude that it didn't need anything else.
Then he moved to the bedroom like he was in a daze, and what he saw there made him actually pause.
His entire bed was covered. The nigga had designer bags from Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Prada sitting there like gifts he damn sure deserved.
New clothes with tags still on. Shoe boxes lined up in perfect order near his closet—all the heat, all the new drops, everything a man needs to step back into the world looking untouchable like he never left.
And sitting on top of everything else, was a Rolex box.
I made sure that I got him a nice piece to celebrate his release a few weeks back, because something in my gut was telling me that he would be coming home soon.
Zaire ran his hands through his locs and shook his head, and I could see something shift in his eyes—not emotion exactly, but recognition. Recognition of what Namier and I had done for him over the months while he was locked up.
"Man, you niggas didn't have to do all this," he said, looking at both of us standing in the doorway. "This is crazy."
"We been preparing for this day for months. Even when you ain’t know if you’d ever come home, we manifested that shit and moved like the shit was already set in stone," I said. "Me and Namier made sure you came home to nothing but love. That's what brothers do. We take care of each other."
"Real talk," Namier added, and I could see him getting emotional too, though he was holding it together. These niggas were inseparable and partners in crime. It had always been them against the world. Against me too sometimes, hell. Zaire was the big brother that Namier could relate to more. He wasn’t controlling or bossy, he was more of a friend.
As for me, I was the big brother that liked to keep order and call shots.
I was the oldest and made sure they both understood that.
Zaire picked up the Rolex box and opened it slowly, like he was afraid the watch might disappear if he moved too fast. This nigga came from money, was born into money, but was so humble and appreciative anytime anyone did something for him.
The watch was clean as hell, just what he would have picked for himself if he'd been out here making his own choices.
It was the kind of watch that said something without words.
The nigga always looked like money, so this was no different.
"Did y’all get me a new car too while y'all showing out like that?
" he asked, and there was the first hint of humor in his voice, like he was trying to lighten the weight of the moment because it was getting too heavy to carry. We’d never been no emotional, sentimental ass niggas, but today was heavy.
I laughed, shaking my head. "Hell nah, we ain't that crazy. But go pull that G wagon out the garage. That's been sitting there waiting on you for a year. I got it washed up for you today. Just how you would have wanted it."
Zaire's jaw tightened slightly—the closest thing to real emotion I'd seen from him since he walked out of prison.
For a second, I could see the weight of everything he'd been through, everything he'd survived, everything we'd fought for. And then it was gone, locked back down behind that hood exterior. He wasn’t raised to show emotions, but I felt everything he was feeling.
He was finally home where he was supposed to be.
“Aye, Namier. I couldn’t say too much on the jail phone or them burner phones but I’m sorry about what happened to Darius.
The way them niggas left him on the compound, dead in his car like he ain’t mean shit, that was fucked up.
I know how much that nigga meant to you and how solid he’d been to the family.
Just know, niggas mommas ain’t almost done crying yet.
Yeah, y’all handled the nigga Big E, but I’m gone smoke the big homie that sent the hit,” Zaire said in all seriousness.
“Nah big brudda. Relax and enjoy being back home. Demon is my kill. Kaseem done already promised me that. You know, this nigga is in charge now, so we gotta listen to him.” Namier sarcastically stated.
He was being funny with saying that I’m in charge, but I damn sure was.
No jokes about it, and they were about to fall in line.
I wanted to change the subject and allow my brother a moment to just breathe before we started sending hits.
“I got you a new phone too," I said, handing him the T-Mobile bag. "iPhone 17 Pro. New number. Clean line. Nobody got it but us. This yo fresh start. Treat it like this the last shot you’ll get at life.”
He took it and looked at me for a long moment, really looked at me in a way that said more than words ever could.
No words needed to pass between us. He understood what I'd done.
He understood what Namier had done. He understood the sacrifice, the strategy, the love that goes into making sure your brother knows he's not alone in this world.
"I appreciate y'all niggas for real," he said finally, his voice low and steady. "For everything and I'm not going to forget it."
"You good," I said. "We family. That's what it means."
Namier was walking around the room, checking everything out, touching things like he was here for the first time. "This nigga living better than we do right now," he said with a laugh. "He just getting home and he already eating better than us."
"He earned it," I said, and I meant that too. Zaire had earned every single thing waiting for him by not breaking, by staying strong, by being exactly who he needed to be when the system was trying to destroy him.
Zaire was already moving toward the shower, ready to wash off prison. But before he did, he turned back to us and asked a question that signaled we were about to transition into a different part of this night.
"What y'all niggas about to do?" he asked.
"What, nigga?" Namier asked, wondering if he was dismissing us now that he had what he needed.