Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
JAZZLYN
“No, no, no, baby! This is Italian leather. You can’t be jumping on that,” Lyric, my boutique’s manager, attempted to contain Saphir as he bopped all throughout the store.
I laughed as I wrapped my arms around Saphir, finally getting him to stop. “Blue, c’mon. You can’t be running and jumping like that in the store.”
“But Jazzy, you and Daddy said we will only be here for a little. We’ve been here for so long,” he complained with a loud groan.
I sighed while walking him over to one of the couches that decorated the store.
“Your father’s out back on a phone call.
Soon as he’s done, we can leave.” They came and surprised me at my boutique, and now Saphir was rushing me to leave.
I couldn’t even front; the little boy ran me.
I really couldn’t say no to him or even think about it.
He was just so adorable and innocent. He looked just like Ahk.
The DNA test he took for him was honestly a waste of money.
Saphir was literally a carbon copy of his father.
“You promise?”
“I promise, Blue.” I stuck my pinky out to him, and he hooked his pinky around mine.
I convinced him to chill out and play a game on my phone while I helped restock some pieces on the floor.
Every so often, I was able to catch a glimpse of Ahk going in on whoever he had on the phone.
It had been a pretty long call, and usually, I would let him take care of business, but now my curiosity was piqued.
“Put these up on display for me, please,” I told Lyric while handing her the stack of jeans I was working on.
She okayed me, and I slipped out to the back where Ahk was. “The fuck is you telling me right now?! That was the fucking agreement!” he jeered. Whoever was on the other end of the phone was catching his fucking wrath.
I stood behind him, not knowing if it was in my best interest to intervene. “You fucking told me if I paid for your rehab, you would sign the house over to me! Now you talking about selling?! I don’t fuck with people playing in my motherfuckin’ face!
“Don’t fucking worry about it! I’ll get the fucking house whether you give it to me or not! You just went against me, and ain’t no fuckin’ coming back from that!” He banged the line before dropping his phone back into his pocket.
I stood behind him, watching as he heaved out deep breaths with his fists clenched. Ahk remained chill for the most part, but whenever he got pissed, it was best to steer clear of him. I took a step forward and set a gentle hand on his back. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
He finally unclenched his fists before running his hand down his face. I made my way around him and cupped his face. “Talk to me. Who was that on the phone?”
“My pops.”
“He’s out of rehab?”
“Yeah, and he’s trying to sell my mama’s house.”
I came from a troubled household, while Ahk had something completely different.
He grew up with love and was nurtured by both parents until his mother lost her battle to breast cancer.
His father grieved the loss of his wife so much that he slipped into depression and suffered from alcoholism.
I’d watched firsthand as Ahkeem tried to get his father the help he needed.
Kareem, however, felt like he had nothing else to live for.
His wife was gone, and Ahkeem and his siblings had grown up and built their own lives.
The only comfort he got was from the bottle, and it was slowly killing him.
“What? How? He specifically asked you to pay for his rehab treatment in exchange for the house.”
“He played in my fucking face, Jazzy.” He slammed his fist into his hand.
Ahk genuinely wanted to help his father.
I remembered the day we almost rode past him while driving through Brooklyn.
He hit the brakes so fast and did an illegal U-turn to get to his dad.
Alcohol had completely taken over Kareem’s life, and Ahkeem tried his best to make him realize that eventually he would die if he didn’t get the help he needed.
That night, Ahk sat on the curb for hours listening to his father vent and cry about the loss of his wife.
He begged Ahkeem to get him into rehab because he no longer wanted to be a disappointment to his deceased wife.
They agreed that Ahkeem would pay for his rehab in exchange for his childhood home.
Ahkeem had been trying to get ahold of his father for months so he could obtain ownership of the home.
It was the only thing he had left of his mother, Julianna.
She bought the house after she received the pay out on her own mother’s life insurance policy after she died of brain cancer.
No one would have fucking expected six years down the line she would have been diagnosed with breast cancer and passed away from it.
She never got the chance to get her affairs in order.
If she had, she would have left the home for Ahkeem and not his father.
From what Ahk told me, his father was never responsible, and his mother knew that.
She loved that house and would’ve wanted it to remain in the family.
“Maybe you just need to pull up on him and talk?”
“The nigga been out of rehab for a month now, and I can’t fucking catch him. The one time he calls is to find out if I can give him my mom’s death certificate so he can sell the house. All that love shit go out the window when a motherfucka’ get to playing with me, son,” he fumed in frustration.
I soothed him by rubbing my hands along his chest. “Don’t worry about it. I can have our family lawyer look into it.”
He looked into my eyes, and an instant calm washed over him. “Fuck this shit,” he mumbled. “I’ll handle it with the lawyer.”
We made our way back into the shop, and Saphir sprinted right over to us. Ahkeem chuckled as he lifted him up. “Let me guess. You ready to dip, huh, Blue?”
“Yes!”
“I told you once Daddy was done with his phone call we could leave.” I smoothed my hands over his fresh set of straight back.
“Can you make tacos again? You make them so good, Jazzy.”
“Baby, that’s one of the only things I know how to make,” I laughed, prompting Ahk to bust out laughing.
I appreciated how he never tried to force me into being someone I wasn’t.
From the beginning, I told him I wasn’t a domesticated woman, and I barely knew how to make a house a home.
He accepted that and not only taught me things throughout our relationship but never made me feel like shit when I made him tacos four times out of the week. My husband was really made for me.
We made it back to our penthouse, and I got started on the tacos while Saphir played the game with Ahk.
I appreciated the little family God blessed me with, especially after all the trauma I experienced during my childhood.
I always felt like I would always be clinging onto Priest and the family he created with Britain, but God saw it fitting for me to have my own as well.
After I finished cooking my infamous tacos, I made the boys’ plates before we ate together on the couch while watching some cartoon Saphir picked. “Taco Bell really don’t have shit on my baby,” Ahk teased as he downed his last taco.
“You think you’re so funny.”
“I’m dead ass. These joints fire as hell. I clean my plate every time.”
“Yeah, you better.”
He chuckled as he handed me his empty plate so I could take it back to the kitchen with mine and Saphir’s. I returned to the couch and fell right into his arms. “How much paper did you give Nymir’s grandmother?”
I side eyed him. “We penny pinching now?”
He smacked his lips. “Nah. I just wanna know how soon I’m gone have to shoot her some more bread. Hopefully I won’t get coffee thrown in my face.”
“25.”
“Hopefully it’s enough to get her out of that building.”
I nodded, agreeing with him. I hated that building with everything in me. The conditions were unlivable, and it harbored the worst memories of my life. If so many people wouldn’t have lost affordable housing, I would’ve knocked a wrecking ball through that shit myself. “I used to live there.”
His eyes peered down at me, and I could read the shock that etched his face. “Word?”
“Yeah. When I was younger. We got evicted, and the super threw all our stuff outside in the courtyard. Priest came home before all of us and tried his best to save our good stuff, but the baseheads had already stolen most of it.”
A look of sympathy webbed his eyes, making me cringe. I hated when people pitied me or felt sorry for me. “I’m sorry, Lovey.”
“Ahkeem, don’t feel bad for me. Now I live in a presidential penthouse in Manhattan. I think everything turned out how it was supposed to.”
He glanced over at the other end of the couch and noticed Saphir had fallen asleep after he stuffed his face. “You never spend too much time talking about your childhood, Lovey.”
I laid my head against his chest, allowing his steady heartbeat to fill my ears. “I don’t like reliving that trauma. The less I talk about it, the more I can just act like it never happened.”
“I was the same way when it came to my mother. That shit not healthy. You really gotta allow yourself to feel that shit so you can truly move on from it.”
“I don’t like crying, Ahkeem.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Maybe you need to.”
“I’m okay.”
“Jazzlyn?”
“Yes, baby?”
He secured his arms tighter around me before dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “Who are you trying to be strong for all the time? You know I will never judge you or shame you, right?”
Hearing that made my heart swell. Ahkeem loved every bit of me, even the parts I tried to conceal from him. “Yeah.”
“So, if you need to cry, you do that shit on my shoulder. You need to vent, I’ll listen. If you need to break down, do so. I’ll pick up all the pieces when you’re done. Being strong all the time eventually make you weak, Lovey, and I don’t want that for you.”