5. Turk
Turk
“Look at us. On our daddy shit. I make a fanny pack look good as fuck, Dub.”
This nigga Nut has a Louis Vuitton fanny pack that only fits one of Anais’s snacks. Everything else is in her unicorn backpack that’s seated between us on the park bench.
“You really do,” some big titty white woman says as she licks her lips. Nut’s face frowns up as he looks her ass up and down.
“Uh, you all in my fucking mouth, lady. I suggest you back up before my better half come up here set tripping. She always seems to know when a thirsty bitch is in my face.”
On cue, Nut’s phone starts ringing, and when he pulls it out, it’s a picture of Dallas’s cleavage with a ring emoji. Her face fills the screen when he answers, but he just turns the camera around to the woman.
“Patrick, tell that fake ass stepford wife that your actual wife knows how to flay a bitch with a spoon.”
I bust out laughing as the woman high tails it away from us, not even looking back.
“I tried to tell her ass, bae.”
“Something was disturbing my spirit and I had to check on you. Don’t forget to pick me up before y’all go get pizza. And tell Turk I said hey–”
“Bae it’s bad enough you know other niggas, don’t be having me tell them you said ‘hey.’ Better speak to these muthafuckas like you HR. We’ll be that way in a lil.”
“Waddup, Dal,” I say, ignoring Nut’s scowl. It’s a wonder his face is not like that permanently.
“Hello, Turk. You’re crazy Patrick. See you soon.”
“You know, I honestly think she’s crazier than you,” I chuckle as he puts his phone away.
He mugs me before shifting his gaze back to our kids. “I don’t get why you thinking about my better half at all, Dub.”
I just shake my head and find Deuce out in the sandbox. Nut’s always saying whatever comes to mind, meaning every word. He knows none of us would ever try Dal, like he’d never try our girls, but if he could get away with it, he probably would hide her from the world. Shit, we met Tati by accident.
“Y’all straight, though? Y’all been moving full speed ahead it seems like.”
Deuce and Ana?s are in the sandbox making something, while Denver is on the court with some neighborhood kids. We’re in West Kenton, so he’s balling them lil Todds and Connors up.
“Yeah, we good. Choc ass got me in therapy with her, talking bout I don’t properly process my emotions. Whatever the fuck that means. Only one not talking to a shrink is Lil Mama.”
I smirk, both at the bro and Deuce clapping for Anais. “Sounds like she care about yo dumb ass. Ms. Ayesha and Autumn been tryna get you in therapy for years. What made you crack?”
This nigga has the nerve to pout. “Choc told me I couldn’t get no pussy until I came to a session. Then she said she meant until I did one on my own. Now I see the muthafucka once a week. It’s straight, though.”
That means he really fucking with it.
“I’m proud of you, Dub. Real shit. I know Tati is, too.”
When I glance back at Nutty, he has the goofiest smile on his face.
There was a time we couldn’t bring her up.
Autumn would call me every night crying because he’d be so lost, zoned out sometimes in front of his seed, especially when her features started showing.
He eventually got better, if you call compartmentalizing his shit better.
Now, though, the bro seems lighter. Happier.
“Yeah, I think she is, too. Speaking of loving multiple women, wassup with you and yo harem? Them niggas at Palace said Naomi tried to use yo name at the door. I thought you quit her?”
I cut my eyes to him before focusing back on our kids. “I did, but she been hounding me so I’ma text her back. Maybe. Shit, I don’t know.” I lean down, putting my elbows on my knees to let my locs hang.
I don’t know why Autumn and Pay being done is bothering me like this.
I always thought I would be happy, could swoop in and get my family back.
Autumn cried the first night, but between clinicals and Wynter being in her face, it doesn’t seem like it’s bothering her as much as I thought it would. So again, why am I bothered?
This is what I wanted, right?
So why am I reaching out to Pay on different numbers, asking her if she ate? Why do I pass by her crib? Why do I make Deuce take his phone to her every night?
“Ay, you really a ho. Didn’t you just have a bitch on her knees like last week?”
Oh yeah. Maybe I’m just sexually frustrated.
Because if I think about it too long, how I haven’t gotten decent head in weeks, the last time I did will infiltrate my mind’s eye, and I’ll see two beautiful women, on their knees for me.
“Shut up, nigga. You checked the emails yet?” Nutty can be relentless when he thinks there’s something he doesn’t know about, and I don’t have no time for it. Besides, I think my problems need a woman’s touch, not this psychopath.
“An hour ago. Maybe it’s–oh shit. Here you read it!” Nutty shoves his phone to me as we both stand.
Five hours north of here, past Kenton County State Park, there’s a plot of land that was supposed to be turned into a casino resort.
Now, I don’t know if the First Nations sued the owners before or after they went missing, but needless to say, there’s no casino there, and the bank opened up bids for the land at the start of the summer.
Me, Nut, and our team of lawyers flew out to the other side of the country to present our offer, and we heard through the grapevine they finally picked who they’d sell it to.
It’s crazy how far me and Nut have come.
We all bought Palace because we needed somewhere to wash our money.
Tiny was paying us pennies when we were hugging the block for her, and we wanted to keep our other extracurricular activities away from her, so we all put in, bought the teen club we would sometimes go to, and turned it into a twenty-one and over spot.
Young niggas, only going off of what we’d wanna see when we went out.
I was a fresh eighteen, and me, Nut, and Fredo took business classes at night so we could keep everything in house.
Then Autumn called herself trying to be a dancer, and went all the way to East Kenton to Paradise, like I wouldn’t find out.
The First Nations owned that, too, and when I met with their leader Apache Beverly, I didn’t think he’d sell it to me.
The First Nations are known to only fuck with their own.
But for some reason, after I broke it down to the old nigga–my lady wasn’t gone work for no one but me–he surprisingly fucked with me.
Sold it to me for a more than fair price, and I didn't have to be taxed, on the condition that I keep our deal between us.
Paradise brought in three times more money than Palace, so with Set, we started BirchTree Nightlife, quit running drugs for Tiny, and I got my business degree.
Over the years, we’ve bought different clubs in the state, hosted concerts and club appearances and shit, and really built our names on the west coast. One thing I know how to do is have a good time, and now, that’s made us more money than drugs and killing niggas ever could.
When Shad’s first album went gold in two weeks, it gave me the idea for our next venture.
A music festival.
And what better way to throw one than owning a big ass plot of land in the middle of nowhere? Not to mention all the shit we could build around it to make more money.
Hella real estate developers put in bids.
Shit, it was three groups in the office lobby when we got there.
But our business plan was solid. Our portfolio speaks for itself.
And multi day festivals that offer different genres of talent make a killing any other time.
We couldn’t even drink and was running a club on our own. We can pull off a festival.
“Nigga, read it!” Nut grits, taking me out my thoughts.
I skim the email, feeling my lips stretch on my face. When I finally finish, I shift my gaze to Nut and toss his phone to him.
“They fucking with us?” he asks, going back to the email. When he gets to the part where they accept our shit, he whoops so loud the kids come rushing to us.
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking bout!” he shouts, scooping Ana?s off the ground and twisting around.
“What’s wrong with him?” Denver asks. Nut grabs his ass up, too, making him and Ana?s giggle as he keeps twirling like an ice skater.
“It’s only up from here,” I say, more to myself than anything. Nut puts his kids on their feet and they can run back to the playground and grins at me.
“Ay, we really them niggas,” he says. “I would hug yo ass but therapy got me liable to burst into tears.”
I can’t help but laugh at this fool ass nigga. “I know yo heart, Dub. Real shit, though, I’m proud of us.”
“Yeah, we gotta go up. Set lame ass only gonna wanna do dinner since he don’t want Brina in the club, but we gotta celebrate this shit, man. Especially cause you know we got so much shit to get done before next spring.”
I whistle, getting Deuce’s attention. “I’ll talk to him. And if anything we can go up in a couple months when you make thirty, old ass.”
The kids run back up to us, and I kiss my niece bye and dap up Lil D, promising them I’ll be the one to take them to the pumpkin patch next month before Deuce and I leave the park.
With Shad being a famous rapper, Set being that nigga in the city, and Nut saying whatever comes to mind, I fight for the favorite uncle position by taking them wherever their little hearts desire, and buying them whatever, too.
Lil Mama don’t even know the word no, and somehow Denver got me paying for boxing classes.
I already started an account for Set’s twins.
But shit, they deserve everything and more. Way more than we had.
I wonder what Autumn and Pay breaking up means for the baby in Pay’s belly. Autumn changed the subject when I first brought it up, but it’s a real question.