JULES
I sat back on the couch, watching the smoke fog up the room as the light flashed through it repeatedly.
The lights hit different in a place like this.
Flickering through haze, bouncing off skin, mirrors, and money.
Everything looked distorted. Like nothing in here had to be real if you didn't want it to be.
Money floated down through the air as I continued to throw it out of my hands.
It didn't feel like spending. It felt like getting rid of something.
Like if I threw enough of it, I wouldn't have to think about what was sitting heavy in my chest.
I inhaled from the blunt that was hanging from my lip before throwing out the rest of the money in my hand to the redheaded bitch that was shaking her ass in front of me.
She moved like she knew exactly what she was doing.
I could tell she had done it a thousand times.
Like she didn't see me at all. Just the money.
That was fine. That's all I was here for anyway.
To not be seen and to not have to see myself.
I sat back on the couch, picked up the bottle of Hennessy, and turned it up to my mouth.
The liquor burned going down. I buried myself deep inside this strip club on the outskirts of New Orleans since I left the house.
Because places like this didn't ask questions.
Seeing those divorce papers, reading that letter had my brain haywire. But you wouldn't know it looking at me.
I was moving off instinct. I buried my thoughts.
Did what I always did. Kept it contained.
Kept it moving. The crazy part was that I sat in that cell contemplating divorce, knowing I'd never go through with it.
That wasn't real to me. Wasn't something I would've ever actually done.
Nia had pulled a card on me I never seen coming, and I knew she was dead ass serious. That part sat different.
I saw it in the way she moved. The way she treated me over the last few months.
The distance I never really paid attention to.
That quiet space she had started building between us while I was too busy thinking everything was still in my control.
caught up in my own feelings and bullshit instead of being a man, the man of my house, made me miss a lot. That’s what it was.
I missed it. I didn't see it or look for it.
Because I didn't think I had to. Nia was my ride or die.
My girl since we was kids. That part felt solid and Unmovable.
Something I didn't have to question. Reading that letter, and seeing these papers, realizing the next part of my life looked different because I didn't have it like that anymore.
I didn't have her like that no more. Shit, I lost my forever girl.
The thought came. I sat around plenty of times and told niggas I knew Nia was never going anywhere, no matter what I did, no matter how wrong it was. I said it like it was a fact. Like it was built into the structure of our life.
I molded Nia into exactly what I wanted in a woman, and somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing her as someone who could choose me.
I showed her a different life. Gave her things she didn't have before.
Taught her how to move in my world. And somewhere in that, I convinced myself that meant she would always stay.
I took her life and showed her what it looked like without her past. That's how I used to think about it.
Like I gave her something. I loved her to death, I'd kill anybody for her.
That part had never been a question. Still ain't.
But the man in me played on the fact that I felt like I could manipulate her emotions to stay with me through whatever.
It was owed in a way. That's what I told myself. Little did I fail to realize, Nia ain’t owe me shit, especially after giving me life as many times as she did.
That realization didn't come with noise.
Nia knew no man other than me, and that stuck her to me like glue.
I knew that. Counted on it and relied on it.
I stared at my reflection in the mirrors across the club that flashed through the lights.
My face looked the same. But something about it felt off.
Like I was looking at a version of myself that hadn't caught up yet with Everything that was happening was on me.
A nigga should've knew better than to think I'd beat a case and save my marriage.
That shit was so far-fetched. But I believed it.
Because I wanted it to walk out of that courtroom and everything fall back into place like it never shifted.
I thought Nia would still be standing there the same way she always had.
That wasn't reality. But I moved like it was.
I had to take the blame for that. No one else.
"Fuck that shit." I mumbled to myself, picking up another stack, untied the rubber band, and threw it in the air.
The money floated down again. The music hit harder.
Bass shaking through the floor. Bodies moving around me.
Everything designed to drown something out.
I saw Juste coming straight toward me with a scowl on his face, pushing strippers off him like they were infected.
He moved like he didn't belong in there.
Like the whole place irritated him. "Nigga what you got goin’ man?
" He said, pulling up his pants before rubbing his hand across his head.
I continued staring up at him, puffing the blunt.
I was faded, no doubt. But my mind wasn't gone. I was just quiet, trying to figure out how this nigga always seemed to find me when I ain’t wanna be found.
"Get the fuck up, man, let's go." He said, snatching me up, pulling me toward the exit.
"Got me in here with these nasty ass bitches. " He said.
The air outside hit different. Once we were in the parking lot, I could see Noles and Pierre leaning against the truck waiting for me to come out.
They looked like they had been there a minute.
"Nigga aint you finna get a divorce? You know judges award child support for that shit.
You better keep your ass out the booty club.
" Noles said, frowning. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but there was truth in it.
Before I could respond, I felt a punch crash into my jaw, making me stumble to the side.
The impact came quick, with no warning. My head snapped slightly before I caught my footing.
When I turned around Juste was standing there staring me square in the face like he aint just damn near knock me out.
His expression didn't change. That wasn't what it was about.
I lunged forward at him, throwing a punch back, before we started throwing blows at one another and scuffling in the parking lot. No talking. Just movement.
Hands.
Impact.
The kind of fight that wasn't about winning.
Just releasing something. "Aye, y’all niggas chill out," Noles said, laughing, jumping between us.
"Get back, Noles." Pierre grabbed him. Pierre knew better.
Let it happen. Let it burn out. "Fuck you, hitting me for bru.
" I spat. My jaw throbbed. Blood sat heavy in my mouth. But I stood straight.
"Nigga your ass pathetic. Your house is in turmoil, your wife is divorcing you, your damn kids are acting out, and your overgrown ass is sitting up in a strip club.
" He said. Each word came out controlled.
"Instead of begging that woman not to go through with this shit, you sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself with these nothing ass hoes.
Grow the fuck up, Jules." He growled at me.
I didn't react. I just stood there and took it.
Because nothing he said was wrong. And we both knew it.
Me and my brother hadn't went head-to-head in years.
That's how I knew this wasn't just talk.
This was him stepping in. "Wake the fuck up nigga.
Get out of that fuckin fantasy ass world in your fucked up ass head.
" He said, walking to the driver’s side of the truck.
Noles got in the back. Pierre stayed where he was. Leaning against the truck, watching me. "What nigga?" I said, looking at him. My voice came out low.
"Man, get in the fuckin truck," He said, smacking his lips, pushing off the car.
I stood there for a second. The music from the club thumped faintly behind me.
The lights flickered through the open doors.
The smell of smoke and liquor still clung to my clothes.
Everything from inside still sitting on me.
Then I looked down at my hands. Still slightly clenched.
I wiped my hand slowly against my jeans.
Turned.
And walked toward the truck. As I pulled the door open and climbed in, I understood something simple. I spent years thinking Nia stayed because she couldn't leave. Because she didn't know anything else. Sitting there in that truck, jaw aching, silence heavy between all of us...
I realized she didn't leave because she stopped loving me. She left because she finally learned she didn't have to stay. And there wasn't shit I could do now to make her unlearn that.
We pulled up in my yard about 40 minutes after riding in silence.
I looked around the car at each of them as they stared back at me.
The engine idled low. Nobody rushed me. They just sat there waiting.
"Mannn what the fuck y’all niggas expect me to do?
" I questioned, rubbing my hand over my face.
My jaw still throbbed from that hit. My head felt heavier than it should've.