16. Malik
MALIK
Ihad money coming from a few different places now. A car wash on Joy Road, a detailing shop on the west side and a couple of rental properties. And then the shit niggas didn’t write taxes for.
That morning I rode through the city collecting money from a few spots while Babyface Ray blasted through my Trackhawk.
Detroit looked gray as hell outside. My first stop was the detailing shop.
The lot stayed full with luxury cars. Scammers getting their cars cleaned before flexing on Instagram, regular Detroit shit.
The second I walked inside, everybody straightened up.
“What up Malik.” One of my workers yelled.
“What’s good.”
I nodded toward my workers while heading toward the back office.
Most people only saw the calm version of me now because of Shante.
Before her I was a different type of nigga.
I still was that same nigga honestly, I just kept that side tucked away better now.
Tone followed me into the office carrying the money bag.
“We straight this week except for Luck.”
Immediately my eyes lifted.
“How short?”
“Like three thousand.”
I leaned back slowly in my chair. Three thousand wasn’t no accident, that was disrespectful.
“Call him.” I instructed.
Tone smirked slightly already pulling his phone out. Both of us knew what time it was. About twenty minutes later Luck finally pulled up looking nervous as hell. That already irritated me. Cause guilty niggas always walked in sweating before anybody even accused them.
“What’s up Malik,” he stuttered.
I sat there quiet for a second, sizing him up. “Where the fuck my money?”
His eyes shifted.
“Business been slow….”
I slammed my hand against the desk so hard he jumped.
“Don’t play with me. Now again where the fuck is my money?”
I hated thieves, especially thieves trying to look me in my face while lying.
“You think I’m fucking stupid?” I asked calmly.
“Nah.”
“Then why the numbers off?”
Luck swallowed hard. “I was gone, put it back.”
Tone laughed from the corner. “This nigga gambling again.”
I stood up slowly adjusting my Cartier buffs while Luck started talking fast trying to explain himself. I stopped listening after “put it back.” If you steal once, you’ll steal again.
“You got kids?” I asked.
He blinked confused. “Yeah.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
I nodded slowly, then walked right up in front of him. “Then stop doing dumb shit like you ain’t got kids to take care of!”
I could’ve beat his ass. I could've embarrassed him. But honestly, I wasn’t trying to crash out over three bands. Shante being pregnant changed me in certain ways, it made me think longer term.
“Tone.”
“What up?”
“Take five hundred from his check every week till it’s paid back.”
Luck looked relieved.
“But hear me clearly,” I added colder this time. “You steal from me again and I’m gone make an example out you.”
His face tightened. “I got you.”
The second he left, Tone laughed. “Pregnancy softened your ass.”
“Nah it didn’t that shit chump change it was the principal. The only reason he walked out of here alive was because he had kids.”
“You definitely woulda pistol whipped him two years ago.” Tone laughed.
I smirked slightly. “People grow.”
Shante was the reason; she brought peace into my life in a way money never could.
Even with her mood swings and emotional breakdowns lately.
That’s what worried me, the further along she got in the pregnancy the sadder she seemed.
At first, I blamed hormones, but for some reason it felt deeper than that.
She cried a lot more now and stayed inside more.
Barely talked on the phone with Alisha anymore.
Sometimes I’d catch her staring into space rubbing her stomach looking completely overwhelmed, and that shit bothered me bad.
By the time I made it home later that evening, the house smelled like candles and Alfredo.
Shante sat curled up on the couch wearing one of my hoodies and fuzzy socks while reality TV played low.
Even looking miserable she still looked beautiful to me.
Pregnancy softened her face slightly and her skin glowed.
Seeing her carrying my child did something to me every single time.
“What sup baby I’m home,” I grinned, tossing my keys down.
Shante looked up slowly. “Took you forever.”
I walked over kissing her forehead before rubbing my hand across her stomach. “How my son doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t know if it’s a boy.”
“It’s a boy.”
“Whatever.”
I studied her face and she still looked emotionally drained.
“You been crying?”
“No.”
That was a lie I could always tell. I sat beside her pulling her legs across my lap. “You gotta stop stressing.”
“I’m trying.”
“Aight,” I nodded. “Tomorrow, clear your schedule.”
She frowned. “For what?”
“Cause I’m pampering my woman.”
“Malik…”
“Don’t Malik me.”
“I don’t feel like going nowhere.”
“You going.” That made her sigh dramatically. “Baby,” I said while rubbing her thigh slowly, “I’m trying to make you feel better.”
For a second her whole face softened. Like she appreciated the effort even if she ain’t got the energy for it.
“You deserve nice shit too,” I added.
I meant that, Shante stayed taking care of everybody else emotionally.
Meanwhile nobody noticed she was barely holding herself together lately.
Later that night we ended up taking a shower together.
Nothing sexual really, just peaceful. Warm water ran down our skin while she rested against my chest tired as hell.
Those moments with her became my favorite part of life.
Afterward we threw on pajamas and climbed into bed.
She wore one of those silky maternity sets Alisha probably bought her.
Meanwhile I stayed shirtless watching SportsCenter while Shante curled against me.
“You feel better?” I asked while rubbing her stomach.
“Yes, stop asking me that.” She whined.
Lie again, but I let it go this time.
The next morning, I made her get up early despite all the attitude she gave me. “Malik I’m tired.”
“And you still getting up.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
After she showered, we headed to Alisha's beauty salon.
Watching Shante get herself together reminded me how fine she really was.
Cause lately she stayed in hoodies and leggings hiding from the world.
By the time her stylist finished she looked beautiful.
Long soft curls flowed down her back. Face glowing naturally.
Baby bump sitting perfectly underneath her fitted tan dress.
Even the women in the salon kept complimenting her.
“You carrying pretty,” one older woman smiled.
“Thank you,” Shante replied shyly.
After the salon, I drove us over to Livernois to my homegirl boutique. Soon as we walked in, Keisha squealed dramatically.
“OHHH MY GOD.”
Shante jumped slightly laughing.
“You are so pretty pregnant,” Keisha gushed.
“Thank you.”
“Nah for real.” Then she looked at me. “You did good.”
“I know.”
That made Shante roll her eyes softly. Keisha helped pick out a fitted black maternity dress that hugged every curve on Shante's body perfectly while still showing her stomach beautifully. The second she stepped out of the dressing room I almost lost my damn mind.
“You look good as hell,” I said honestly.
Shante cheeks turned slightly pink. Seeing her blush still did something to me. “You doing too much,” she laughed softly.
“Apparently I ain’t doing enough.” I walked closer, fixing the straps gently on her shoulders. “You deserve this.”
Keisha ended up doing her makeup too with a soft glam and glossy lips. The whole time Shante kept looking confused. “You still ain’t tell me what all this for.”
I smirked. “You gone see.”
Once she finished getting ready, I told her to walk next door.
The look on her face when she opened that door was priceless.
I’ll probably remember that forever. I already stood inside waiting wearing black slacks low on my waist with no shirt on.
Tattoos covering my chest and arms, gold chain resting against my skin.
The second Shante's eyes landed on me she smiled a big smile.
“Damn,” she said walking closer. “You look good.”
I grabbed her hand kissing it softly. “So do you.”
Then finally she looked around the room fully. Rose petals and candles, baby props and a photographer setting up lights near the backdrop. Immediately her eyes filled with tears.
“You did all this?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
She covered her mouth quickly while looking around the room emotionally. For a second I thought she might completely break down.
“I wanted memories,” I admitted. “For us.”
Tears slid down her face. I walked over wiping them gently.
“Aye,” I said softly. “No crying before the pictures.”
She laughed weakly while nodding. I could feel emotions pouring off her heavy as hell. Once the camera started flashing. We made some beautiful pictures. The kind that looked like love, family and forever.