Chapter 1
Fifteen Years Later . . .
The smell of fresh air hit me as soon as the gates opened to the place I called home for the past fifteen years. The sound of the metal door opening gave me a sense of relief as I made my way out of them.
The officer standing near the gate that led to my freedom held his fist out when I made it to him. Officer Culver was one of the officers who looked out for me from the moment I was booked. While I didn’t give a fuck about making friends in there, I knew I had to make a few allies.
On the streets, I had much respect.
I gave back to my community, and I was never on snake shit. People respected me because I was loyal. They feared me because, while I may have been cool, when it was time to lay my murder game down, I did that shit without a conscience.
That respect and loyalty followed me on the inside. I had a few of my crew members who had been doing time since before I got locked up. I made sure to take care of their books and their families, and in turn, they protected me inside.
Officer Culver was one of the many COs who made sure I was good, so I didn’t leave him hanging when I stuck my fist out and gave him a pound.
“I don’t want to see you back here, fam. Enjoy the rest of your years out here,” he said.
“Trust me. This is the last time you gon’ see my face.”
And I meant that shit.
He gave a curt nod as I continued my stroll down the paved walkway. I looked to my left and spotted Meeko leaning on the hood of a brand-new Durango SRT and smiled.
“My nigga free out this bitch!” he exclaimed as I walked up to him, slapped palms, then hugged him.
“It’s good to see you, my baby,” I told him.
“Good to see you too, man.”
I pulled away. “Get me the fuck away from this bitch, bro.”
“You got it. Let’s get up out of here.” We got inside the truck and pulled away from that shithole.
Once we were inside, Meeko handed me a phone, two credit cards, and one debit card.
“Fuck kind of phone is this?”
He chuckled. “That’s the new iPhone 12 Pro-Max.”
“Nigga, I don’t know how to work this shit.”
He laughed again. “I’ll help you once we touch down.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t know shit about this. Where Troub and Killa at?” I asked. Meeko glanced over at me, then looked away, shaking his head.
“The last time I talked to you, you told me you wanted to chill for the next six months with no more contact. A lot of shit happened within that time.”
I rubbed my beard, wondering if I wanted to hear what he was about to tell me. “Fuck it. Spit it.”
“Trouble is a drug addict, bro.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Yeah, started snorting coke a little after you got sent away. He was straight for a while, but then shit just started going downhill. Started smoking 51’s, then straight crack, and now he on that boy. Killa and I tried to help him, man, still trying, but the homie is too far gone to listen.”
“Fuck!” I yelled, pounding my fist on the dashboard.
That shit broke my heart to hear this shit about our brother.
Trouble, Meeko, Killa, and I had been best friends since junior high.
We did everything together, including getting into the drug game and making a killing.
If it hadn’t been for him taking my gun that night, they would have possibly hit me with ten more years on top of that fifteen.
The ho-ass nigga’s ass that I beat spent almost a month in the hospital.
He testified against me when he was the one who touched my girl.
My girl.
Jordin Wallace.
So many nights, I wondered what she was doing, how she looked, or how she smelled now. I would see her pretty, golden face in my dreams every night, the first year of my incarceration.
The last time I spoke to her was the first five years I was down.
She came to visit me often and even wrote me letters.
But seeing her reminded me that I couldn’t hold her, touch her, lie with her, or hear her voice in my ear.
So, regrettably, I told her not to come to see me anymore.
Of course, she was stubborn and kept coming up to see me until I had to put her on the no-visitation list.
I knew I hurt her.
But there was no way I would let her do that fifteen with me. I had already failed her by leaving her. I couldn’t be selfish and have her wait for me. I wanted her to live her life and be happy, but I hoped she knew that I meant what I said when I told her I was coming back for her.
I meant that shit.
She was the one woman who showed me a love that I carried with me since junior high. We may have started out as friends, but by the time we got to high school, I knew I wanted her to be mine. The comfort she gave me during the death of my parents would forever live in my heart.
“I know, bro. It’s fucked up, but you know we ain’t gon’ give up on brodie.”
“How are his mom and sister?”
“They good. Killa and me been sliding them some cash to help them out and shit.”
I nodded. “What about my businesses?”
“All good. The clothing store is doing numbers, and the dispensary is always live. That account is over-full, ya feel me. You ain’t got shit to worry about on that end. Ya crib is ready and waiting for you too.”
“Coo’. And Jordin?” He didn’t speak for a long minute, which made me frown. “What, nigga? Spit that shit out,” I told him, frustrated already. I knew whatever he was about to tell me was going to be some bullshit.
“She’s getting married, bro.”
My frown deepened as I sat up in my seat. “Come again?”
“Jordin, man.”
“My Jordin? I know that ain’t what you said, my G?”
“Your Jordin,” he confirmed.
A pain hit my chest, and I sat back in my seat, looking out of the window. I knew I told her not to wait for me, but I for damn sure didn’t recall telling her to get fucking married. This shit had to be a sick joke; there was no way my Dinny would do that to me.
I wanted to be pissed, but I was more heartbroken than anything.
What did I expect?
She was in her twenties when I left her—still young, with the world as her oyster. I wanted her to get all her hot-girl shit out because I told her, the last time I saw her, that I was coming back for her.
That was ten years ago.
I guessed the passionate love we once shared wasn’t strong enough to withstand the next ten years of our lives. Now she was running off to get married to some nigga I already wanted to go back to jail over.
“Who is this nigga?” I asked.
“The actor—Akeem Spivy.”
“Never heard of that bum. What the fuck movie did he play in?”
“Shit, I don’t know. I think one of ‘em is called Blood Money, Hard Life, or some shit.”
“Corny ass.” I seethed.
“Yeah, he corny as fuck.”
“You met him?”
“You know me and Lauren kick it now, so I've seen the nigga around. Honestly, I don’t even think they are in love or no shit like that. She was his media rep. In my opinion, I think she only marrying him to catapult his image.”
“Bullshit. Get Lo on the phone to see where she at.”
“Bro, don’t—”
“Real talk, don’t tell me shit else but where my wife is, bro.”
“She’s getting ready for her bachelorette party. They get married tomorrow.”
I chuckled mirthlessly. “Tomorrow? Yeah, nah. That shit ain’t happenin’. Hurry up and get me to the crib, bruh,” I told him. There was no way I was losing my girl to some movie extra ass nigga. I didn’t know what Jordin was on, but I’d be damned if she gave another man her hand that wasn’t me.
As we rode through the neighborhood, I realized how much shit had really changed. I felt like I was in a different dimension, seeing the different businesses and homes that had been torn down and rebuilt.
By the time we got to my house out in Royal Oak, I had calmed down a bit after seeing the house Meeko pulled up to.
It was a colonial-style, brick, tri-level home with a balcony and a three-car garage.
I could see the silver Ford F-550 sitting in the driveway, along with the silver Mercedes-Benz SUV I told him to cop for Jordin.
I wanted to smile, but thoughts of my first love marrying another nigga were low-key killing a nigga. Maybe telling her not to wait for me was a bad idea. I just thought she would never love another the way she loved me. I could see now how much of a fucked-up thought that was.
I stepped out of Meeko’s truck as he met me around front, handing me a set of keys.
“You straight, fam?”
“I’m not. But I will be,” I replied.
“I got about an hour to spare before I have to go drop Lauren off at the venue, if you need me to show you around ya crib.”
“I’m good, bro. I just need a minute.”
“You sure, bro? A lot of shit has been updated—”
“I’m sure, man. I need some time to think and get my mind right.”
He nodded, and we slapped palms.
“My number is programmed in the phone if you need me. I know that shit wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but I knew you needed to hear it. I’m with whatever you on, my G.”
I gave a curt nod. “‘Preciate it, fam.”
He nodded and walked back to his truck, and I headed inside my house. The house I had built from the ground up for the person I thought was the love of my life and me.
There was no way I could allow this shit to go down. It didn’t matter if I was wrong or not.
Jordin was mine.
And all I needed was this day to prove to her that we belonged together.
I went inside the house and opted not to take a tour.
I found the master suite, looked inside the huge walk-in closet, and saw it fully stocked with everything I needed, coordinated and in order.
I nodded in approval at what Meeko had set up, then stripped out of my attire and found the door to the en suite bathroom.
Everything was in pristine condition, with a white-and-gold color scheme, double sinks, double showerheads, a bench in the shower, and a sunken bathtub that I was sure she would enjoy.