Chapter Eight
Nazir Kane
I wrapped my lips around the tightly rolled spliff and took a long pull before blowing the smoke out the window and leaning my head back on the headrest in my Rolls-Royce, thinking about when Tatiana made her presence known.
Her hair was all undone, sleep still in her eyes––and the pain.
Before she could hide it, I saw the pain in her eyes as she stared into mine.
I put that pain there, and it’s something I would never forgive myself for.
Before she could fully step behind the bar counter, I took in her curvaceous shape.
Tatiana had always been on the thicker side, and it only got better with the older she became.
Her button nose was slightly red, and her freckles were visible because she wasn’t wearing any makeup.
Then there were her eyes,––her beautiful brown mahogany eyes.
Tatiana’s eyes were like windows to her soul.
I could always tell her mood from the way she looked at me.
When she was happy, it almost seemed like her eyes were closed because her smile was that wide.
When she was sad, they looked dark and gloomy.
The redness showed whenever she was emotional.
I spent a lot of time studying the woman I wanted to marry back then.
Tatiana was a few years younger than me and had her whole life ahead of her.
I knew how much she wanted to get married and have children.
I wanted those things with her, too––but when I was in a better place.
She deserved to be taken care of, and I couldn’t do that for her––at least not then.
So, that night, I decided not to hold her back any longer from having the things her heart desired.
I kissed her lips, squeezed her tightly, then slipped out of bed and left in the middle of the night.
It still pains me that I hurt her the way I did.
I stood by that door for twenty minutes, debating whether to leave or rejoin her in bed.
As much as I wanted to run away with her and start a new life together, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to her.
Taking her from a life she was accustomed to, only for her to struggle being with me, would have never sat right in my spirit.
Tatiana thought she was keeping her life separate from her father, but once she mentioned his name, I knew who that nigga Malcolm was.
Everybody in the hood knew him as the one who made it out.
Niggas without any sense idolized him because he rose to a status.
To them, he was the goat and someone they all wanted to be.
They never knew the heads he stomped on to reach that level, but some of their own families knew the pain Malcolm Rich caused to get there.
Nine times out of ten, they had an uncle hanging out in front of the corner store who should have been where Malcolm was, but they were greased and burned by him.
I never respected him or looked at him as being a role model because I saw him for who he was at a young age.
My pops was greased and sent to prison because of Malcolm Rich’s bitch ass.
My mother was robbed of the life she once had, leaving her forced to work three jobs to make sure her two children had whatever they needed.
While other kids were focused on sports or dreaming of going to college so they could be successful and make their parents proud, I was in the streets––learning the game from my pops during prison visits or through coded phone calls.
When the rumors started swirling about the dirt Malcolm had his hands in, my father was set up and murdered behind the wall.
What was “cleaning up dead ends” for Malcolm was pure hell for my family.
My old man never coming home was a harsh reality I had to accept early on in life, but seeing the pain on my mother’s face replayed in my mind often.
When I first met Tatiana, I had no idea her father was Malcolm Rich or that she was related to him.
Her last name didn’t set off any alarms because it was a common name.
But after finding out, it didn’t change how I felt about her.
I think it was because she didn’t act like her father.
She never walked around like the world owed her something.
She was humble, quiet, reserved, and caring.
Tatiana would give you whatever she had if she knew you needed the shit.
That’s why I fell for her before I even knew who she was.
And that’s why I stayed even after I found out where she came from and who her father was.
Everything inside me told me to leave her alone.
Her father was someone I wanted dead; how could I love his daughter the way I do?
Even as I sat in my car smoking, my heart was beating crazy in my chest because she was near. She was back in my orbit again, and my heart only reacted this way with her. She was my earth, moon, and stars.
The passenger door opened, and Natalie got in.
“You’ve been sitting out here for the past hour, Nazir. What’s wrong?” she asked, turning toward me.
Natalie was another one of those women who I couldn’t give the love she needed.
Although I desperately wanted to, I didn’t want to waste her time.
So, I was honest with her, and she ended up becoming my best friend––the one I could turn to when the world felt like it was crashing in on me.
She was the woman who held my secrets and helped me work through my depression.
Most of those years after leaving Tatiana were spent in darkness, trying to talk myself through things.
Seeing the concern in her eyes, I knew I needed to ease her worries and allow her to breathe.
“I’m not on the edge, Nat.”
She let out a deep sigh, leaned her head against the window, and reached over to touch my hand.
“You can’t show up in the middle of the night, sit out here for hours, and expect me not to worry.”
As the head of my family, the man who made things happen and made sure everyone was okay, who could I turn to?
Who rubbed my back when I needed to release and express my emotions?
I hated to go to my mother because she had to be strong for so many years, and I didn’t want that for her anymore.
All the pain she endured when my father was sentenced and then getting the call from prison that he had been murdered was just too much for her to bear.
With my sister being old enough to understand what had happened, she experienced those same emotions.
They both deserved to live a life free of emotional pain, and I worked hard to make sure they did.
Shit, I hated that Natalie was even the one I sometimes dumped my emotional baggage on, but she was my person––the one who put her own wants and needs aside to be there for me. There wasn’t enough money in the world to pay her for what she had been to me.
“I wanted to come in and see her, but I didn’t want to wake her up. I know the rules and the schedule,” I said with a smirk, taking one last pull before putting out my blunt and flicking it out the window.
She squeezed my hand. “The rules don’t apply when it comes to you needing to see her. Trust me, I know that feeling, and I’m lucky to have her just down the hall from me.”
Nazani was four years old and my heart in this ruthless world.
She was the good I needed when I was out here being anything but.
If I wasn’t with my baby girl, I was thinking about her.
When Natalie asked if I would go half on a baby with her, I didn’t have to think twice.
If I couldn’t give her my heart, the least I could do was give her one to carry.
Parenting with Natalie was like a warm breeze on a beach––easy. The breeze understood its role and how to coexist peacefully with the beach because both knew their parts. We had agreed on this and wanted a child, so there were never any issues.
Natalie had a nigga she was messing with, but she refused to allow him to meet me or our daughter.
If she wanted to continue dating Casper in private, I didn’t have a problem with it.
Her love life wasn’t my business. As long as whoever he was treated both Natalie and my daughter right, he would never have to worry about any smoke from me.
Natalie had been around when I was just trying to get money and keep it. She never looked at me any differently, so when I started getting real money, I made sure she never had to ask for shit––that she and my daughter lived an easy life.
She wasn’t the type to sit around and let someone take care of her, though.
Like me, she was used to getting it out the mud.
It was Natalie who told me the only way this would work was if she had her own income, which she earned being a mommy influencer and blogger.
I damn near had to twist her arm to get her to agree to buy the house in Greenwich Pointe.
For me, it was less about providing for Natalie and more about providing for our daughter.
I grew up in Brooklyn, in the hood––never experienced gated communities and private schools.
My daughter would have all of that. I wanted her far removed from the city.
The life I lived in the streets was ruthless, and I would never put my daughter in harm’s way.
So, whenever I wanted to spend time with my baby girl, I always came to Greenwich.
My mother and sister lived in Belgrave Hills, which was only a fifteen-minute drive between cities, and keeping them safe was my top priority.
I refused to ever have to bury them because of my actions.
It was the one promise I made to myself when I decided to step fully into this life.
I’ve always dabbled––made enough money to be comfortable and help my mother quit one of her three jobs––but this life was never supposed to define me.
I never wanted to end up like my father.