Chapter 4
MONEY
The city looked different from the top floor of the nightclub I owned. In actuality, I owned every brick, every street corner, and every tortured soul moving through it.
I stood at the window with my tie loosened, watching the sun set. After running the streets, ducking and dodging charges, and risking my life for over twenty years, I finally had legitimate businesses on paper. I had money flowing through barbershops, a nightclub, and real estate.
I had clean accounts, but underneath, the whole underground world of East Hollis still moved on my command.
Going legit was just good business. It kept the Feds at bay and kept my lawyer busy with contracts rather than indictments.
But even though I was “out the game”, I was still me.
And a true leader never really walks away from their empire, right?
A knock came at the door. “Come in.”
My right hand, Check, walked in looking stressed. Check had been mu dawg since we were thirteen, selling weed out of his mama’s basement. “There’s been an update on Richardson,” he said, closing the door.
“That so?”
“He’s lookin’ at fifteen to twenty.”
I turned from the window, my jaw tight. “Richardson knows what happens if he talks.”
“He’s got a wife and kids, Money. Muthafuckas get weak when they’re starin’ down at that kinda time.”
“Then you or Tip send a reminder on the inside so he can remember what’ll happen to his wife and kids if he gets weak.” I sat behind my desk, fingers steepled. “Who’s his lawyer?”
Check stared at me. “Solei.”
The name hit me like a shot to the chest. Solei. My Solei. The woman I’d married when I was twenty-five and stupidly in love. The woman who held me down and birthed my children. The woman who’d walked out on me eighteen months ago, crying about how she couldn’t “deal with this shit anymore”.
“I’ll talk to her, but Richardson’s in good hands,” I said, keeping my voice even.
Check studied me. “That’s all you gotta say?”
“What the fuck else is there?”
“Bro, don’t play with me. Solei can’t represent this nigga. She’s not even fuckin’ with you right now. Who’s to say she won’t…?”
“We may be separated, and she might not agree with my line of work, but she would never purposely do some shit that would get me locked up. She’ll handle this case like any other case. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’ve known Solei just as long as you, bro. She’s different now.”
My phone rang and Junior’s name lit up the screen. I answered immediately. “What’s good, son?”
“Hey, Pop.” His voice was deeper now, trying to sound grown. “You still pickin’ me up from practice?”
“Of course. Be there in an hour.”
“Cool, cool. Um…” He hesitated, and I heard that tone that meant he was about to say something he thought I wouldn’t like. “I think I should tell you somethin’ .”
My grip tightened on the phone. “What’s that?”
“Ma’s probably bringin’ someone to my next game. Her boyfriend. I just wanted you to know so… you know, it ain’t weird.”
Boyfriend. The word kept echoing in my head like a gunshot. Boyfriend. Some random nigga had been touching my wife, and I didn’t even know his last name or what he looked like.
How long had this shit been going on? How long had this nigga been around my kids?
How many times had he been in Solei’s bed?
How many times had he kissed her? Touched her?
How long had she been letting another man fuck her while I sat back, giving her space, respecting her boundaries, and believing she’d come back to me on her own?
I’d been giving her time–eighteen long months, to be exact.
No surveillance. No keeping tabs. No showing up unannounced.
I’d given her the space she asked for because I genuinely fucking thought that she’d realize what we had was real.
That she’d miss me. That she’d come to her senses and understand that no other man could ever feed her soul the way I do.
But instead, her ass had been out here letting a muthafucka play house with my family.
What did he do? Where did he work? How much money did he make? Was he playing ball with Junior? Was he tucking Soso in at night? Was he acting like a father figure when I was their fucking father? Was Solei looking at him the way she used to look at me?
Was she laughing at his jokes and cooking for this nigga? Was she wearing that gold Chanel silk robe I bought her while she made him breakfast? Was she letting him hold her at night? Was she telling him she loved him? The thought made my vision go red.
I wanted to put my fist through the window and find this nigga to show him exactly what happened when someone touched what was mine.
But I couldn’t do that shit until I knew everything.
I needed a plan because that’s what separated me from every other nigga out here.
I never moved off emotion. I moved on strategy.
And right now, I needed to know exactly who the fuck I was dealing with before I made my next move.
“Pop? You there?”
I forced my voice to remain calm, even though rage was crawling up my spine. “Yeah, I’m here, son. What’s his name?”
“Darius Jennings or Jenkins. Somethin’ like that. I mean, he’s cool, I guess. Kinda corny. Wack jokes. He’s nothin’ like…” Junior stopped himself.
“Not like what?”
“Nothin’. Never mind.”
Not like me. That’s what he was going to say.
This nigga was boring, predictable, and safe.
Everything I wasn’t. Everything Solei thought she wanted.
“Listen, Junior, your mom can bring whoever she wants,” I told him smoothly, my mind already working.
“It’s all good. If she’s happy, I’m happy for her. ”
“You sure, Pop? ‘Cause…”
“I’m sure. Aye, I gotta handle some business, but I’ll see you in a few. Love you, son.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up and looked at Check and his expression told me he’d heard enough. “So, what’s the plan? I know that look.”
I stood, buttoning my suit jacket with my mind shifting into strategy mode.
“I need everything on this Darius nigga.
Last name Jennings or Jenkins. I need his full background.
I wanna know where he works, where he lives, what he drives, who he banks with, what gym he goes to, and where his mama stays. Everything."
“Money…”
“And I need it by tonight.” I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a contact. “Get Tip on the line. Tell him I need surveillance on Solei’s condo. I want to know every time this nigga comes and goes.”
“Bro, you sure you wanna…?”
“Do I look fuckin’ unsure?” I met his eyes, and he exhaled, shaking his head. “Nigga, that’s my wife. My kids. My family. Some random muthafucka thinks he can just step in and play house with what’s mine?"
“You’re separated, bro. Legally, she can…”
“I don’t give a fuck about legally.” My voice dropped to that quiet tone that made grown men nervous.
“We never got divorced for a reason. She just recently stopped wearin’ her ring.
She still looks at me like she wants to fuck me and kill me at the same time.
Nah, she’s not over this. She’s just runnin’ scared. ”
“So what you gon’ do?”
“I’m gon’ remind her exactly who the fuck she married. And I’m gon’ make sure this Darius nigga understands what happens when you touch what’s mine.”
Check typed onto his phone and scrolled a few times. Nodding, he passed it to me, and I read the details online. “Looks like he’s into investment bankin’.”
“Perfect. Financial crimes are easy as fuck to fabricate,” I smirked. “A few transactions that don’t add up, some offshore accounts, maybe some insider tradin’.” I shrugged. “Or we go simpler and catch him with the wrong woman. Maybe the wrong substance.”
“So, you wanna frame him.”
“I call it removin’ an obstacle.” I met his eyes. “You think I built all this by playin’ fair? Nigga, you've been with me. I took what I wanted, and I’m about to do it again.”
“If she’s happy, let her be fuckin’ happy, bro. She chose to leave.”
“She left because I gave her a reason to. I was sloppy. Reckless. I let money and bitches distract me from what mattered.” I grabbed my keys.
“But I’ve spent a year and a half gettin’ my shit together and buildin’ legitimate businesses.
I haven’t fucked no bitches, bro. I’ve been becomin’ the man she said she needed. ”
“And now she’s with someone else.”
“For now.” I headed for the door. “This Darius nigga is temporary. He’s just a placeholder she’s usin’ to convince herself she can have a “normal” life.”
“What if she really loves him?”
I stopped at the door, looking back. “She doesn’t. She can’t. Soul’s still in love with me. I see it every time we’re in the same room. The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not watchin’. The way she can’t quite meet my eyes.”
Check shook his head. “You’re playin’ with fire, bro.”
“I’ve been playin’ with fire my whole life. It’s what I do.” I stepped into the hallway. “Get me that information. And Check?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell the crew to tighten up. I want every shipment clean, every transaction documented, and every alibi airtight.”
I left him standing there and headed to the elevator, my mind already three steps ahead.
Solei thought she could move on and replace me with some safe, boring nigga who probably couldn't even make her cum properly. She thought she could introduce another man to my children, and I’d just accept it.
She’d forgotten who I was. I was about to remind her who the fuck she still belonged to.
I pulled out my burner phone and sent her a text.
Then I called my lawyer. “Yeah, I need you to pull the separation agreement, Gerry. I wanna know exactly what rights I still have regardin’ custody, decision-makin’, all of it.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Not yet,” I said.
I hung up and stared at my reflection in the elevator’s mirrored walls. Eighteen months ago, Solei had walked out crying, telling me she couldn’t do this anymore. That she loved me, but love wasn’t enough. That she needed more than I could give her. I’d let her go.
I’d been patient. I’d been respectful. I’d been building everything she said she wanted me to build.
And now she was fucking some other nigga.
Nah. Patience was over. Respect was over.
Now it was time to remind Solei Winters-Madden exactly who the fuck she married.
And remind this lame ass nigga exactly what happened to men who touched what belonged to Money.
This wasn’t just about love anymore. This was war, and I’d never lost a war in my life.