MONEY
Fifteen Years Into The Relationship
(Six Months Before Separation Began)
It was a rainy Thursday night. I sat in the matte black Escalade across from Morrison & Associates, engine idling low as rain drizzled over downtown East Hollis.
The Glock lay on my lap while I gripped the wheel and waited.
It was nearly ten, but lights still burned on the upper floors, including hers.
Lately, my wife had been different. Quieter.
That shit bothered me like a muthafucka.
Solei used to fight me about everything and threaten to leave all the time.
She complained about every late night, phone calls in the middle of family dinner, and every time I disappeared handling business she didn’t need details on.
She used to cry and scare the hell out of me, talking about taking my kids. Then, all that shit just… stopped.
She stopped asking questions, arguing, checking my location, and tripping when I came home smelling like smoke, liquor, and outside.
That should have felt peaceful. Instead, it felt wrong.
For the past few weeks, every time I walked into a room, she smiled at that damn screen, typing fast, then locked it when I got close, only half paying attention when I spoke.
I kept convincing myself I was tripping because Solei knew exactly who she married.
She knew I wasn’t one of those soft-ass niggas that cried over betrayal and moved on with life.
I would kill behind my wife and she knew it.
But instincts made men like me rich and kept men like me breathing, and mine had been screaming for weeks.
Earlier that evening, she texted me saying she had to stay late working on a case. I had replied cool and calm.
Then after the kids fell asleep, I grabbed my keys and left the house without saying another word.
Outside the law firm, I watched the entrance while the windshield wipers dragged slowly across the glass.
At exactly 9:56 PM, a black Lexus pulled up to the curb.
The car was smooth, clean as fuck, standing out against the slick street.
I sat up straighter, tension creeping into my limbs.
The driver stayed inside, and a few moments later, the glass doors of the law firm opened, and there she was.
Solei walked outside, looking too damn good for someone supposedly buried in paperwork. Her tight red dress hugged every plush curve beneath a long cream trench coat, and her heels were definitely not “working late” shoes.
My eyes narrowed. “What the fuck is this?” I muttered, trigger finger itching. She glanced around once, pulled her coat tighter, and slid into the passenger seat.
My good sense checked out as the Lexus pulled off and I followed. Rain blurred city lights. My hands tightened around the wheel. I kept a few cars behind, my heartbeat louder than Duffle Bag Trappy’s “Tired” playing low. At a red light, I grabbed my phone and texted Solei.
I watched the typing bubble pop up almost immediately.
I stared at the text until my vision blurred.
Her ass was really lying in real fucking time.
My grip tightened on the wheel as I watched the Lexus ahead cut through traffic.
I replayed every late night, every ignored kiss, every time she rolled away in bed, and every little smile at that fucking phone.
Meanwhile, some nigga had my wife sneaking into cars after work like some hoe?
“Got me fucked up,” I muttered darkly.
The Lexus finally pulled into the circular driveway of a luxury hotel downtown and I swear something inside me snapped.
I watched the valet open the driver’s door first, then I saw this nigga.
He was tall, lean, and clean-cut. Probably corporate with some bread in a safe civilian way.
He walked around the car smiling before opening Solei’s door like a gentleman.
I watched Solei step out, glowing, falling into his arms. When her lips met his, I cut the engine, and the Glock was in my fist in an instant. Bursting from the truck, I slammed the door so hard that the glass shattered. Rain struck my face, cold as rage burned hotter than ever.
Solei looked up first, and the second she saw me, all the color drained from her face. “Montana…”
The nigga turned around, confused. “I’m sorry. Can we help…?”
I squeezed the trigger before he could finish his sentence.
The first bullet tore through his kneecap and dropped him instantly.
His scream echoed through the valet area so loud it damn near bounced off the hotel windows.
People outside the hotel started screaming and scattering in every direction.
One valet worker dropped the keys he was holding while another ducked behind a parked car, yelling, “Oh, my God! Call the police!”
The nigga rolled onto the wet pavement, clutching his leg and screaming bloody murder while blood poured between his fingers. Solei shrieked immediately. “Money!”
I walked toward him slowly and calmly. “You fuckin’ my wife?” I asked quietly.
The nigga looked up at me, shaking. “Please… I’m just her doctor friend. Please! I…” I shot his other kneecap before he could finish begging. The second scream was even worse.
Solei burst into hysterics. “Stop! Oh, my God!” The nigga rolled onto the wet pavement, crying and choking, while blood spread beneath him fast as hell. Towering over his body, I lost it. I pistol-whipped him, and Solei started grabbing my arms. “Money! Please! You’re going to kill him!”
“Get the fuck off me!” I roared. She stumbled backward, shocked because I almost yelled at her like that.
Yanking the nigga up by the collar of his rain jacket, I slammed him up against the Lexus as he cried like a little bitch.
I pressed the Glock beneath his jaw. “You were about to fuck my wife? Huh? You got a death wish, nigga?”
“Money!” Solei cried harder. “Please don’t do this!”
Cars had started slowing near the hotel entrance now.
People watching, but I didn’t give a fuck.
All I could see was red. All I could think about was this nigga touching what belonged to me while I was home kissing my babies goodnight.
Then Solei said the one thing that stopped me from pulling the trigger.
“You’re a fucking hypocrite!” She hollered, tears streaming down her face. “You think you’re the only one who can’t give a fuck about this marriage?”
The question hit me harder than the rain. For a second, everything around me went silent. I slowly turned toward her. “The fuck you mean?” I asked quietly. I watched her chest heave up and down. “You were really about to fuck this nigga?”
Solei wiped furiously at her face. “You have bitches!”
My nostrils flared. “That gives you the right to fuck another nigga?”
“Yes! Both times!”
The words hit me like bullets as I stared at my wife like I didn’t recognize her. “You’ve been fuckin’ this nigga?
Solei hesitated, and that hesitation told me everything. Then her chin lifted stubbornly through tears. “Yes.”
The world went black after that. I squeezed the trigger, blasting this nigga’s brains out, and he instantly slumped to the wet pavement. Then, I turned toward her.
“Oh, my God!” Solei screamed with her eyes widened and her hands covering her mouth. I grabbed her around the waist before she could move again. She immediately started fighting me. “Let me go!” she screamed, hitting my chest. “Let me go!”
I could hear the sirens in the distance growing closer and closer. The panic in front of the hotel was real. I threw her over my shoulder, and she kicked and punched my back while I carried her through the rain toward the Escalade.
“Money!” she cried hysterically. “Please!” I yanked the passenger door open and shoved her inside before running around to the driver's side. The second I got in, she started swinging on me. “You crazy muthafucka!” she screamed, slapping me hard across the face.
I grabbed her wrist instantly. “Stop fuckin’ hittin’ me!” She started crying harder. I peeled out of the parking lot so fast the truck fishtailed against the wet pavement while sirens screamed somewhere behind us.
“You killed him!” she yelled breathlessly. “You fucking killed him!”
“You think I give a fuck?!” I barked, looking at her left hand. “You suckin’ and fuckin’ this nigga! At least you had the decency to take your fuckin’ ring off!”
“You had bitches first!”
“That ain’t the same!”
“How isn’t it?!”
“‘Cause I’m your fuckin’ husband!” I roared, roughly letting her wrist go, and she hit the passenger door.
Solei stared at me like she hated me, and somehow that shit hurt worse than the betrayal.
The truck flew through downtown while rain hammered the windshield.
She kept crying, and I kept driving, hands covered in blood on the steering wheel.
Finally, once we got far enough away from the hotel and the sirens faded into the distance, I pulled onto a dark, empty side street and slammed the truck into park. She immediately tried to reach for the door, but I grabbed her fast, yanking her across the console toward me.
She gasped sharply while I held her there against my chest. “You got that nigga killed,” I said coldly. “His blood is on your fuckin’ hands.”
Her breathing turned shaky. “You’re crazy,” she whispered.
I leaned closer until my forehead almost touched hers. “Don’t you ever let no shit like this happen again,” I growled. “‘Cause next time, I’m handin’ you the blick so you can end it since you’re so bold to even play with me.”
I released her jaw roughly and leaned back in the seat, trying to calm the violent adrenaline still tearing through my chest. Then I grabbed my burner phone from the glove compartment and made a necessary phone call.
Tip answered on the second ring. “What’s good, bro?”
“I need you to hit the Downtown Regency Hotel,” I said coldly.
“How bad?”
“Dome.”
“Fuck.”
“There’s witnesses everywhere. Staff too. Cameras definitely outside.”
“You still there?”
“Nah, I’m gone already.” I glanced over at Solei while she sat curled against the passenger door, looking out the window and crying softly.
“You know what to do,” I continued calmly.
“I need every camera touched before those people hand footage over to police. I need valet shaken down and the staff paid off.”
Tip let out a low breath. “Say less.” The line disconnected, and I tossed the phone back into the glove compartment.
By the time police pulled up to that hotel, valet workers would suddenly “forget” details.
Cameras would magically malfunction, and witnesses would contradict each other.
Hotel management would quietly cooperate to protect the business and avoid problems. That’s exactly what I needed to happen.
Thirty minutes later, I pulled into our driveway and looked over at Solei–my Soul–and I realized something.
Our marriage had just gotten worse. “Go in the house and wash that muthafuckas cologne off you,” I told her calmly, reclining the driver’s seat back with my eyes closed.
She didn’t move, and I exhaled deeply. “Go in the fuckin’ house, Solei. ”
She got out of the car without a word and walked into the house. I sat there in the driveway for a long time, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of what I’d done settle into my bones. All I knew was that Solei was mine and I’d kill anyone who tried to take her from me.