His Chosen Wife

Chapter 8 #2

Gone were my black couch pillows; we now had a black and pink setup. I missed the sound of her humming in the shower. Her feeding me, king treatment. “For the first time in my life, I got a reason to come home. And I've been fucking it up by staying away. Don’t be a fucking dummy nigga.”

The truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of her in my arms during Taiwan’s wedding dance, how she’d fit against me like she was made for that exact spot.

The way her perfume had wrapped around me and refused to let go.

Even now, standing in a field with smoke in the air, I could still taste the sweetness of that moment.

Taiwan shook his head, grinning. “Never thought I’d see the day Lesley Grimson got pussy whipped.”

“Watch your mouth talking about my wife,” I said, giving him a look that made him reconsider his words.

His hands went up in surrender, but he was still smiling. “My bad, cousin. Just saying it’s good to see you caring about something other than money. She’s gotta be something special.”

“She is. Shit, I’m not sure if that explains it.”

She was resilient. She was calm, beautiful, and a hustler. And surprisingly, she didn’t back down.

I pulled out my phone, staring at the blank screen.

I wanted to call her, hear that voice that had been playing in my head.

I knew she’d eventually giggle about something.

I wanted to know what she was wearing, if she was sitting in that new office of hers, planning some elaborate event, if she’d been thinking about me the way I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

But I didn’t know what to say. How do you apologize for being a coward?

How do you explain that you’re scared of wanting something too much?

I wasn’t a soft-ass nigga, but she had me feeling like I was losing my edge.

The woman had me feeling like writing her name in margins like I was fifteen again.

She'd told me at the wedding, no siblings, no aunts, no people of her own. Said it plainly like it was just a fact about herself, like she'd made peace with it a long time ago. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop thinking about what it meant that she’d been moving through this world alone and still built herself into everything she was. And now I was sitting here in St. Louis, wondering if she wanted kids someday. Wondering if she’d ever let somebody be her family on purpose.

That last part wasn’t information I needed. It was something else entirely.

“You gon’ call her or just stare at that phone all night?” Taiwan asked.

“I got more business to handle first,” I said, pocketing the device. “I gotta slide to Kentucky and then Michigan to check out this dispensary.”

But even as I said it, I knew the real business I needed to handle wasn't in any of those locations. It was back in Coupeville, in a penthouse where Coco had made herself an office that I knew was dope while I was out here playing war games with niggas who had half a brain cell.

“And you making me go to the crib? Alicyn can fucking wait a few more days. She knows what the fuck is up.”

“Whatever, nigga. Ain’t my wife to worry about.”

I left Taiwan to deal with his own shit.

I’d decided I didn’t want that for me—neglecting my woman for the streets, making her second to business that other niggas could handle.

The minute I started to neglect my wife, fake or not, bullshit would follow.

I’d seen it too many times, watched good men lose good women because they thought the game was more important than what they had at home.

I’d be home soon to get my shit right. And when I got there, I was going to stop running from whatever this thing was between us.

The wedding ceremony I was planning wasn’t just about romance—it was about making a statement.

She wasn’t just my wife on paper anymore.

She was my partner, my choice, my priority.

And anyone who had a problem with that could take it up with me directly.

The next day…

I pulled up to my uncle’s estate in Kentucky and spotted my pops’ car in the driveway. Taiwan had taken his ass home to his new wife after twenty missed calls. It was just me and Saint, my driver, and I told him to stay with the car before I got out.

The housekeeper opened the door before I knocked. “Morning, Mr. Grimson. They’re in the study.”

I nodded and walked past her. I’d been inside this house a hundred times, holidays, sit-downs, but today was different, and everybody in the house was going to feel that before I left.

I wasn’t here to talk. I was here to establish something.

Call it a conversation if that made it easier to swallow. I didn’t care what a nigga called it.

I could already hear them in the back sitting room, my father’s voice smooth, Tommy’s carrying that bourbon-and-smoke weight that used to register as authority when I was young. But now that shit had my Spidey senses tingling. I didn’t trust this fool as far as I could throw him.

I stood in the doorway for a second before either of them noticed me, just watching. Tommy leaned back in his chair like a man with nothing on his conscience, glass in hand, telling my father something that had him nodding slowly. Just seeing him irritated me.

The nodding stopped when Pops saw me.

“Son.” He straightened.

“Pops.”

Tommy turned, and that big smile came out. The man had been running it on people his whole life. He pushed up from the chair like he was about to embrace me, but I stopped him. I wasn’t here for any of that.

“Lesley. Come on in. Sit down, drink with your uncle.”

I walked in and stayed standing. And refused the drink he was already pouring. I didn’t drink at nine in the morning. I looked at him until the smile started doing extra work to hold itself in place.

This nigga a snake, I thought.

“St. Louis is handled,” I said. “Raylin’s gone, his wife and a few of his men too. Bones is next.” I paused and looked at Tommy. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

Tommy set the glass down and spread his hands open. “Look, the Belle View meeting got heated. You know how family gets. Everybody says things.”

“Everybody didn’t say anything,” I told him. “You did.”

“Nephew, I was looking out for you. That’s all that was.” I looked at him in disbelief, nigga was acting like I had read the room wrong. I couldn’t stand when a muthafucka pissed down my back and tried to tell me it was raining.

“You’re new to the seat. You brought in a woman none of us know, under circumstances that put us all at risk. Somebody had to say it.”

“Tommy nigga it’s more than a seat. Put some respect on my position. I ain’t sat since I was a jit. I run shit, not you. So speaking on anything I do will always be a problem. I need that to be clear.”

He opened his mouth, and I watched as irritation flashed across his face— before the reasonable expression came back.

“I said what needed to be said. A woman who walks into that basement is a liability until she proves otherwise. That’s not disrespect, that’s thirty years of knowing how this works. ”

Thirty years. There it was.

“You ever ask yourself why you’ve always been the next nigga’s lackey? And you’ve been running your mouth, it seems. Loose ass lips.”

The room went still. My father didn’t move, didn’t speak, but I felt him paying close attention.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. Just barely. “That’s not what this is about.”

“It’s exactly what this is about.” I stayed even.

“You’ve been in this family long enough to know the rules better than anybody in that room.

You know what it means when the head speaks.

You know what respect looks like. And you sat in my father’s house, at my table, and said what you said anyway. ” I took one step closer.

Tommy looked at my father. Legend met his eyes and said nothing.

The silence from my father was its own verdict, and Tommy felt it.

He swore he had a poker face, but I saw right through that shit.

Always had. He picked up his glass, took a slow sip, and when he looked back at me, his voice had changed.

Still smooth. But the warmth was performance now, and we both knew it.

“You have my respect, nephew. And your wife has mine.” A small nod. “That’s my word.”

I looked at him a moment longer. “Good.”

I turned to my father. “Walk me out.”

Outside, the Kentucky morning was gray and cool, dew still on the grass, birds chirping. We walked to the edge of the driveway before either of us spoke.

“He heard you,” Pops said.

“He better had, and that’s on granny. I’d hate to make Auntie a widow.” I kept my voice low.

“Les,” he warned, but I wasn’t hearing it.

“That nigga has been a problem for a long time. Raylin was his. Bones moves through his connections. St. Louis didn’t happen because some random niggas got ambitious; it happened because somebody let it.” I looked at my father. “Tell me I’m lying.”

Pops was quiet for a long moment. He looked out at the property, the manicured grounds, the kind of thing that got built over decades of loyalty and ruthlessness in equal measure. “I hear you, kid. You ain’t never been wrong. But…”

“He's moving foul.”

“What ain’t you telling me?”

“Pops, watch your back. That nigga is a snake. Between you and me, I think he's working with the alphabet boys.”

“He’s a Don, son. Be careful with your accusations.”

“I know what he is.” I turned to face him.

“How they know about the basement? To approach my wife?”

“Shit, I’ll look into it. Why you just now telling me?”

“I needed more proof.”

He remained silent; I gave him that. I couldn’t imagine the place he was in. This was his blood brother who could be snaking him and about to get us hemmed up.

“I’m telling you, Pops. If he touches Coco, if he goes anywhere near her, if he so much as breathes in her direction with bad intentions, I’m going to lay him down. Blood or not.”

My father looked at me for a long time. He’d heard me make promises before, but this one landed differently, and we both knew it. Family loyalty had a ceiling now. I wasn’t tryna hear that family shit. Anyone who crossed me would be dealt with.

He kissed his teeth and shook his head. I couldn’t read his face all the way and that was rare. My father was usually an open book to me.

“She got to you that bad, huh?” he asked.

“It ain’t about that.” I waved him off.

He nodded once. His eyes went back to the house. “Son, a lie don’t care who tell it. Is she worth it?”

“I’m figuring that out.”

He clapped my shoulder once and said. “I’ll check into this shit with Tommy. But you gotta get hard facts. Do that, and I’ll put a bullet between his eyes myself.”

I nodded and stood there alone for a minute. I thought about my father’s question, ‘Was she worth it?’ All I could say was I hoped so, but I hadn’t been wrong about shit in a while. With a fair shot, we could be a power couple, a real storybook romance type shit. I needed to get back first.

“How is she?” I asked when Malice picked up.

“Just got back from Pilates.”

I nodded at nothing. Coco in her space, moving through her day, completely unaware that I, Lesley Fuckin’ Grimson, was ready to body his uncle just off the strength. Yeah, I probably was gone for Colecion.

“Keep your eyes open,” I said. “All the way. Not just outside threats.”

A pause. “Understood, boss.”

I hung up and told my driver to head toward Michigan. Four hours. I had four hours to get my head straight and figure out how to come home to that woman as something better than what I’d been.

Tommy’s face stayed with me the whole drive. That smile. That pivot. The way he’d agreed so cleanly.

My father trusted his brother way too much. I always saw the way Tommy looked at my pops — a cut of envy every time he bought something new, closed a deal, added to what he’d built. I loved my father's loyalty to family, but he’d fucked around and let a fox in the hen house. I could feel it.