Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hood
Itossed my keys onto the kitchen counter and stood there for a moment. The house was quiet. Too quiet. I opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a long drink.
Damn, I wanted to press Fumi tonight. It’s been a few weeks since I’d seen her... I almost forgot the promise I made to myself to let Fumi breathe and come back to me if she wanted to. Shit, I still wanted one conversation. That’s all I wanted.
I laughed to myself. “Nigga... You said that last time.”
I shook my head. That’s exactly why I left. I already knew how this was finna go down… Five minutes would’ve turned into fifteen. Fifteen would’ve turned into me walking her back to her car and begging outside her apartment. I ain’t fucked up with begging.
Then I’d be right back where I started... I ain’t really trying to circle back. I still want one more chance. This time, I ain’t begging for it. Nah. Not this time.
I kicked my shoes off and dropped onto the couch. The crazy part... Fumi looked good. Real fucking good. I want Fumi to be happy and at peace with me. For a minute... I almost walked over there, just to stand beside her and hear her laugh one more time.
Then I remembered... She asked me to move around, so I did. I grinned. That shit was lowkey funny as hell. Respecting Fumi was harder than chasing her. Anyone can keep showing up, but it takes discipline... to stay away.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Shit, when I first came home, I thought loving Fumi meant proving myself every day by calling, showing up, and finding reasons to see her.
Now, this love shit looks different. Sometimes, love is trusting somebody enough to let them figure it out without you hovering.
That don’t make this shit hurt any less. I ain’t gonna lie, seeing Fumi with a nigga in the flesh still bothered me. Seeing her laugh with that nigga still fucked with me. Knowing another nigga got parts of Fumi I miss every fucking day bothered me the fucking most.
But none of that changed anything. I still want her. I still love her. I just refuse to love her... by suffocating her.
My phone buzzed across the counter.
Cash: We still riding tomorrow?
Me: Yeah.
A few seconds later...
Cash: You good?
I stared at the screen. Then typed back.
Me: Yeah.
Another message came through almost immediately.
Cash: Lying ass, you should’ve just gone over there and said something to her.
I laughed. That nigga knew me too well. I locked my phone and tossed it back on the counter. Yeah... I was lying. I wasn’t good. I missed Fumi, real bad. More than I ever planned to admit. If missing Fumi was the price I had to pay... to become the man she deserved...
Then I’d pay it. Every single day. Until she believed me or didn’t. Either way... I wasn’t going backward.
Istood in the middle of my unfinished retail space, hands tucked in my pockets. Concrete floors, bare studs, and dust filled the air whenever someone fired up a damn saw. Most people would’ve looked around and seen another construction site. I saw potential.
Maurice, the general contractor, unrolled the blueprints across the hood of my Chevy.
“So... we’re almost ready to start framing. You’re still good with the barbershop?”
I looked over the layout. Eight barber stations should be more than enough. A private office. A retail wall for merch. A waiting area for customers.
“Yeah, leave that one alone. It’s good.”
Maurice made a few more notes, then pointed to the next door. “And the second unit? You never told me what we’re doing with it.”
I looked through the open doorway. It was bigger, brighter. The afternoon sun poured through the storefront windows. A slow grin spread across my face.
“That’s gonna be a salon.”
Maurice looked up. “You’re opening one?”
“No. Somebody else is.”
Skeet looked over at me. “You got somebody lined up already?”
“Yeah. They just don’t know it yet.”
Maurice laughed. “Shit, I like surprises.”
“It ain’t for you.”
Maurice chuckled and kept writing. “So, you want twelve stations, a private shampoo room, a color room, and a break room?”
I nodded. “Yeah, and make that break room nice as hell.”
Maurice raised an eyebrow. “Most owners don’t care where the employees eat lunch.”
“Shit, I do. They’re gonna spend more time here than at home.”
Maurice scribbled another note. “What about the lighting?”
I didn’t even have to think. “Natural, as much as possible. I don’t want it to feel dark.”
Maurice looked at me. “Damn, you’ve thought about this.”
“Yeah, I have. When you place the order for the shampoo bowls, make sure they’re comfortable. I’ve heard stylists complain that clients’ necks hurt… Aye, and don’t crowd the stations… Folks need room.”
Maurice laughed. “Aye, you sure you ain’t a fucking hairstylist?”
I smiled. “Nah, I just listened.”
Skeet looked over at me. “Aye, you’re talking about Fumi?”
I didn’t answer… I didn’t need to… Skeet already knew.
Maurice rolled up the plans. “So... When is she coming to look at it?”
“She ain’t.” Both of them looked at me. “Not yet.”
Skeet folded his arms. “So, you’re really keeping this from her?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
I looked around the space once more. “Until it’s finished.”
Maurice smiled. “Damn, I wish someone had bought me a business.”
I laughed. “I ain’t buying her a business. I’m giving her a foundation. What she builds on it... That’s on her.”
Skeet stayed quiet for a minute. Then he finally asked the question I knew was coming. “What if she never comes back, Hood?”
The answer came more easily than I expected. “I still want her to win.”
Silence.
Maurice looked away. Even the construction crew seemed quiet as fuck for a moment.
Skeet studied my face. “You really gonna spend this kind of money… on a woman who might never choose you?”
I looked down at the blueprint. A slow grin spread across my face.
“She chose me once.” Skeet didn’t say anything. “I just wasn’t smart enough...”
“...to choose her back.”
“Damn.” Skeet rubbed the back of his neck. “Nigga, love done whooped yo’ ass.”
I laughed. “Bad.”
Maurice broke the silence. “What name are we putting on the permit?”
I looked toward the storefront windows. People walked past without giving the building a second glance. One day... Fumi would.
“Leave it blank for now.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll know the name when it’s time.” I folded the blueprints and handed them back to Maurice. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?” Maurice asked.
“When this place opens... I don’t want nobody knowing I had anything to do with it.”
Maurice frowned. “You don’t?”
I shook my head. “No. If she takes it... I want it to feel like hers, not mine.”
Skeet smiled to himself. “You really gone disappear after handing her the keys?”
I looked around the unfinished salon one last time. “If she never wants to see me again... I don’t want my name to stand in the way of her dream.”
For the first time in weeks, the building didn’t feel empty. I could already hear the blow-dryers. The laughter and gossip. Black women walking out feeling better than when they came in. And somewhere in the middle of it all... Fumi, smiling.
Whether I was standing beside her... or watching from a distance.
Maurice walked off to take a call. Skeet waited until Maurice was out of earshot.
“You really ain’t gonna tell her?”
“Nah.”
“You don’t think that’s a little fucking crazy?”
“I’m crazy as fuck.”
Skeet laughed. “I know you are.”
“I’m serious.”
“You really gone build this whole damn salon... and not say nothing?”
I shrugged. “What am I telling her for?”
“So, she knows.”
“Know what?”
“That you bought it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want any points.”
“You don’t?”
“Nah, I don’t want her to feel like she owes me.”
“So why do it?”
I looked through the front windows. “I don’t know if you remember when Fumi first started doing hair?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“She used to rent that little booth at the flea market.” I smiled to myself. “She used to come home talking my damn ear off. One day I’mma have my own shop. One day I’mma stop making other people rich. One day I’mma have my own keys.” I laughed. “I used to tune half that shit out.”
Skeet grinned. “I remember.”
“I should’ve been listening.” Silence. “I heard every word. I just ain’t appreciated it until she was gone.”
Skeet looked around. “So... you really gone leave and hand her the keys?”
I shrugged. “If she takes ‘em, and if she doesn’t, I’ll lease it to another stylist.”
Skeet laughed. “So, you do have a backup plan.”
I laughed too. “I ain’t investing six figures without one.”
Ipulled into the parking lot of Her-Co Realty LLC, the real estate office, about fifteen minutes early. The sooner I got my own place, the better. I wasn’t in any rush to leave my momma’s house. Truth be told, I enjoyed being home. But a grown man needed his own space.
Especially if... Nah. I cut that thought off—just one thing at a time. The glass door swung open.
“Tyrin?”
A woman in a navy-blue blazer smiled as she approached me.
“I’m Trenise. It’s good to finally meet you.”
We shook hands before she led me inside. “So... you told me over the phone you weren’t looking for anything flashy.”
“I’m not. I just need peace, and my own space.”
She smiled. “Everybody says that.”
“I mean it, though.”
Trenise opened a folder and spread a few listings across the table. “I remember you mentioned you wanted three bedrooms, with at least two and a half baths. You needed an attached garage. You were open to gated communities, but not condos or high-rises. You specifically asked for a house.”
I nodded. “I’ve had enough people living on top of me.”
She laughed. “I figured.” She slid the first listing toward me. “This one’s in East Atlanta.”
I glanced at it, then slid it back. “No, it’s too busy. Let me see the second one?”
She pushed another picture across the table. The house was nice and modern. It had a big backyard, but it still... it didn’t move me.
“What about this one?”
She handed me the third folder. I opened it.
Yeah, this is the one. Single-story home with a brick exterior.
A long driveway, just in case I wanted to host NFL Sunday or College Football on a Saturday.
I’m sold on the three-car garage. Shit, the covered back patio was private, surrounded by pine and oak trees. Now... this felt different.
“I wanna see this one.”
She smiled. “I had a feeling.”
About thirty minutes later, we pulled into the neighborhood.
It was gated, quiet, and clean. No through traffic.
A few kids rode their bikes. The neighbors waved as they walked their dogs.
This was the kind of place nobody paid attention to, where people came and went.
I liked that. Trenise unlocked the front door.
“Take your time.”
I stepped onto engineered hardwood floors. Tall, vaulted ceilings and an open kitchen. A shitload of natural light poured through the windows. I slowly walked through each room. The primary bedroom overlooked the backyard. The closet was big enough to hold more clothes than I owned.
I laughed. “Damn.”
Trenise smiled. “What?”
“I forgot what normal looks like.” She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. I walked onto the covered patio. The backyard was peaceful as fuck. No noise, no fucking sirens. I’m a long way from Edgewood. It’s just me and the wind moving through the trees.
“You can tell a lot about a man...” Trenise walked up beside me. “...by the kind of house he chooses.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “When we first talked... I thought you wanted something to impress people. And now? I think you want a place to build a life.”
I looked out across the yard. “Maybe.”
She smiled. “Wife?”
I laughed. “Slow down.”
“I’m just asking.”
“I don’t have one.”
“But...”
I grinned without realizing it. “...I’ve got somebody I’d like to convince.”
She laughed. “I figured.”
“Is she the reason you want a garage?”
I looked over at her. “What?”
“You specifically requested a three-car garage.”
“I thought you might collect cars.”
“I do.”
“But...”
I chuckled... “She got two.”
Trenise laughed. “So, is this house already full?”
“Not exactly.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I’m just planning.”
“For somebody who ain’t yours?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She smiled. “Damn, I hope she knows how lucky she is.”
I looked back toward the house. “She probably wouldn’t agree with you.”
Trenise handed me the listing packet. “So... what are you thinking?”
I looked at the front porch. I took in the backyard again.
Then the garage. For the first time since coming home...
I wasn’t imagining where I’d sleep. I was imagining a future.
Not because I expected Fumi to walk through the front door.
But if she ever decided to... I wanted her walking into my home, not my momma’s.
I looked back at Trenise. “I’ll take it.”
She smiled. “I had a feeling you would.”
As we walked back to our cars, I pulled out my phone and sent one text.
Me: Aye Skeet... I found the one.
Within seconds, my phone started buzzing.
Skeet: The house... or Fumi nigga?
I laughed so hard I had to stop walking.
Me: The house, fool.
Another message came through.
Skeet: Good... ‘cause one of ‘em still got paperwork to sign.
I shook my head, slid my phone back into my pocket, and smiled. For the first time in a long time... my future had an address.