Ethan Whitmore #2
Duke, that fool was technically my uncle, but we were raised more like brothers.
We were glued at the hip and stayed getting into shit we had no business in.
One time, we both got busted in school for selling weed on campus.
That day, my mother came up to the school to get us because Big Momma was at work.
She played it cool in front of the principal and the entire car ride home.
As soon as me and Duke walked through the door, she tore our asses up.
Then, when Big Momma got home, we got our asses whooped again.
None of that shit fazed us. All we did was come up with a better plan to move work without getting caught up.
We were savages. At an early age, Duke and I both made names for ourselves.
People knew not to fuck with us, but at the same time, people wanted to fuck with us.
Muthafuckas wanted to get down with the money train, and the hoes stayed on our dicks.
When I went out to places, none of the white people wanted to fuck with me.
I didn’t fit in with them. My swag was completely different, even the way I spoke.
Nobody cared nor treated me like a regular white boy.
To everyone, I was a part of the culture—my skin was just lighter.
People used to call me the Tarzan of the hood.
My name definitely held weight in the streets. Always has, always will.
“Where’s Zoie?” I asked Big Momma.
“Upstairs…Zozo! You’re daddy is here!” she yelled.
“You got something in there on the table,” she announced without looking at me.
I didn’t give a damn what she said. I knew Big Momma had a thing for Steve Harvey.
It didn’t matter who was physically in her presence.
If Steve Harvey was on TV, no one else mattered.
I had an urge to turn that shit off, but I knew she’d cuss my ass out with a quickness if I did.
Instead of going to see what she had out for me, I plopped down beside her.
Her perfume invaded my nose, and it made me relax a little bit more, like I was a little boy who had a long day at school.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I couldn’t get anything past Big Momma. She sensed everything, and sometimes that shit drove me crazy.
She carried enough weight on her shoulders; therefore, I never wanted to add on to that load.
Whether it was positive or negative, I always kept my business away from her doorstep. Or at least I thought I did.
“Someone came by here earlier looking for you,” she told me.
“Yea? What they want?” I nonchalantly asked.
“They never said, but they left an envelope. I accidentally opened it, but it’s in the kitchen on the table.”
I smacked my lips because she knew damn well opening my mail wasn’t an accident. Big Momma knew what she was doing. She thought she could get away with certain shit because she was the matriarch of the family. She also knew I wasn’t going to say shit about her being in my business.
“Um huh. Well, what they leave?” I asked, glancing at her.
She was quiet for a good two minutes before responding. Hell, I almost forgot what the conversation was about.
“Blake Whitmore died.”
“Okay, so?” I shrugged.
“I know you may not want to go, but there’s a reading of his will taking place. I think it’ll be beneficial if you went. You never know, maybe—”
“Maybe what?” I cut her off.
I wasn’t trying to snap or be rude about the situation, but I couldn’t help it.
“He’s your father, EJ.”
“Yea, a muthaf—a man I’ve never met a day in my life. All I know is the man who helped create me has been dead since the day I was born.” I stood to my feet.
“If only your mother could tell you the truth and give you clarity. I’m not the one who is supposed to help you understand.
However, I can say that your mother did everything in her power to make sure you had a better life than she did.
Although your father wasn’t physically in the picture, he had his ways of taking care of you. ” She explained.
Honestly, I couldn’t care less. How was I supposed to know any of that was true if I never even saw this man’s face. At least not in person, but I had seen pictures. All I knew was, I’d been raised by my mother since I entered this world, and my so-called father was nowhere to be found.
“Baby girl! If you want to get some ice cream and see this movie, you better move your feet!” I called out to Zoie.
Listening to Big Momma give that information started to rub me the wrong way.
Never had I ever thought about looking for him.
I mean shit, he wasn’t hard to find but neither was I.
I knew he was some big shot who owned a few businesses.
I also knew he was married with a few other kids.
I’d never heard my mother speak badly about him, but in my own heart, I felt nothing but hate.
How could a real man leave the mother of his child to struggle alone, especially when he was in a position to make those struggles nonexistent?
Although my mother had a solid support system, I’d watched her cry plenty of nights because she was under stress.
I mean, she didn’t know I was up late at night making sure she was okay.
At the time, it used to break my little heart to see my mom so defeated.
When the sun came up, she’d act like everything was perfect, but I knew better.
I was a true momma’s boy. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for the woman who gave me life and made sure I was well taken care of.
She loved me unconditionally, no matter how many times I fucked up.
No matter how many times I disappointed her due to my dumb decision making.
I didn’t give a fuck about that man, so why would I care about his will? According to how everything panned out, I was the bastard child that he wanted nothing to do with. Why would he leave anything to me? I had to chuckle at myself as I gripped my car keys.
“Finally, daddy!” Zoie jumped into my arms.
“I thought I told you to be on the porch?” I kissed her cheek.
“It’s too hot outside! I’m a princess, I can’t get sweaty!” Her little hands smashed my cheeks together.
“Yea, you’re right.” I smiled.
“Girl, you a mess.” Big Momma laughed walking up to us. “Take this, EJ, and just think about it.” She pressed the envelope into my chest.
“I already did.” I kissed her cheek.