14. Rakim
FOURTEEN
rakim
“How you feeling, nigga?” I sat down beside Talid’s bed in the area that resembled a more comfortable hospital room, just within his home.
“Feeling alright. Alright enough for them niggas to allow me to go home after weeks of begging.” He adjusted himself in the bed. “Told me it’s temporary though.”
“Why?”
“Tumors can grow back, and they want me to keep getting scans every other week to keep a close watch.” He gestured toward his water bottle, so I handed it over to him.
“Damn,” I commented, a bittersweet feeling overcoming me. On one end, I just wanted my cousin to be better, but the upside was that I got to hold on to Daylin a little longer.
Speaking of her, I checked my phone to see if the pickup order I’d placed was ready yet.
“You know, the neurosurgeon that’s been performing my surgeries used to be a huge asshole, but lately, that nigga has not only been nice but on top of his shit.”
“Word?” I played the fool, eyeing the smile on Talid’s face. It felt good to see him excited about possibly continuing his life. That only let me know I was doing the right thing as bad as the shit was.
“Word, nigga.” He sipped his water while nodding.
“Went from pretty much trying to tell a nigga to accept my fate to being hopeful, optimistic, and doing the fucking most to be sure I live. I had to damn near give him and his staff a PowerPoint presentation on why I should be able to go home for the moment.”
Chuckling, I said, “That’s wild but good. You think the nigga turned over a new leaf, or this is just some one-time shit?”
I was hoping for the former. Unlike Dr. Conrad, I didn’t only care about Talid and his health. I was praying Dr. Conrad’s ass would take this time as a lesson learned and apply that type of zeal to all his patients, no matter how much of a lost fucking cause he thought they were.
Shrugging, Talid replied, “Can’t really say. I can only assume he’s changing, had an epiphany or some shit, because what reason would his ass have to randomly wanna save me?”
We locked eyes, and I shrugged.
“That’s true.” I nodded, not too sure if I believed that Daylin’s father had changed.
I kicked it with Talid until Shardaya brought their dinner in, then I left, giving the married couple some privacy to eat together in the comfort of their own damn home, since their son was staying with Shardaya’s mother during this time.
Khalid always stayed with his grandmother when Talid got too sick.
They ain’t want their son to see his father fucked up like that.
Checking my email, I saw my order was ready, so I went to grab the few books I’d found for Daylin and then the food.
Getting to the ranch house, I plated the steak, lobster macaroni and cheese, plus the asparagus, and then put the water, silverware, and napkins on the tray.
After adding the skinny vase with a single rose, I shook my head at my-fucking-self.
I’d been doing well for the past five years, not getting sucked into shit, yet here I was romancing a woman a nigga had kidnapped and another muthafucka’s woman at that. Maybe I had a fucking suffering kink.
To make matters worse, I knew I wasn’t giving Daylin back to Shaun. Far as I knew, he was only her nigga in her head. She was my girl; I just had to get her on board.
I typically wasn’t the type of nigga to start staking claim on a woman that hadn’t shown true interest, but I felt drawn to Daylin.
And it’d been a minute since a woman made me feel comfortable around her or wanna answer every fucking question she had.
I actually gave a fuck if Daylin liked what she heard or thought about a nigga.
Picking the tray up, I scooped up the paper bag with the books I’d bought for her and made my way to the downstairs level.
Entering her room, I heard the shower going, so I knew she was doing her usual nighttime routine before bed. I was sure she wondered why she hadn’t been given dinner yet.
While she cleaned up, I set her shit up and then left to wait so I wouldn’t invade her privacy. I wasn’t sure if she dressed in or out the bathroom, but most muthafuckas who weren’t psychopaths left the bathroom to clothe themselves.
When I got an alert from the motion detector, I knew she was out of the bathroom, so I made my way down. Knocking lightly, I waited for her to grant me entry unlike any other time.
“Come in!” she shouted, and I could hear the smile she was wearing in how she spoke. “Thank you, Rah!” She shrieked, holding the books with a wild and excited look in her fucking eyes.
“Welcome.” I smirked, shutting the door as she sat on the bed, wearing only a large shirt and nothing else. Wasn’t expecting that or the way my dick started to wake up and do its morning stretches.
“Ooh, this looks good as hell.” She pulled the tray in her lap, then paused to look up at me. “Where is yours? The whole point of this meal is to have conversation with a pretty girl over food, right?”
“It’s upstairs.”
“Go get it.” She bucked her eyes at me, and I did as she said like a good fucking soldier. Returning, I trod over to sit beside her on the bed with my own tray. “Cynthia cooked this? Got damn.” She chomped down on the lobster mashed potatoes, making me snicker.
“Not unless she work in the kitchen at Fleming’s.”
“No wonder. I fucking love them and Eddie V’s.” She started to cut her steak, checking the inside and nodding. “I love them medium, but medium well is as far as I’ll go.”
“I figured medium well was a good middle ground since I ain’t know how you liked your shit.” I ate some of my own food, my stomach welcoming it. “But medium for next time. So you like steakhouses?” I wanted to remember that. I wanted to remember every-fucking-thing she told me.
“I do. I work a lot, so it’s like a little treat for me. But, I do enjoy fast food or some places in the hood too. Most hood spots have the best flavor.”
“That’s real shit.” I nodded. “Phone cases. Fuck made you open a business dedicated to that?”
Giggling as she glanced at me, she said, “I love phone cases. Like, I switch them out for every season of the year and have a different one for each month. I pick out my phone’s outfits for the year before my own.
” She drank some of her water, and I tried not to focus on how good she smelled.
I knew she’d gotten perfume from that Sephora spot when she had me place an order, but I couldn’t be sure if that was it.
Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. “I know the best business to run is something you’re passionate about, and since I loved art and phone cases, I merged them.
“I started by drawing the designs and putting them on the cases, then once I started getting some success, I began working with other artists and launching collections. Lucky for you and your kidnapping plans, I don’t have another collection dropping for a month.”
She winked at me, making me half smile. I liked listening to her talk, and I was in awe of how she came into her business.
A lot of people wanted to run a business and didn’t give a fuck what it was, so long as they could become rich and fuck off whenever they wanted to, but she put some real thought into it.
I knew from starting up Godfrey Baking Co. that it wasn’t easy birthing a business or becoming successful with the shit.
“So you can draw.” I nodded, realizing she was the first person I knew that possessed the talent.
“I can, but I’m not as talented as some of the people I collab with, which is why I don’t create the designs anymore.”
I just watched her, processing her words and. . . just her while she ate.
“That’s dope you made it this far, baby, and with odds against you like yo’ people.”
“Thank you.” She beamed. “But I do have a business degree, so there weren’t too many odds against me.”
“Degree don’t equal success. I met a crackhead with a master’s.”
“Seriously?” She laughed but caught herself until I grinned. “Liar.”
“Swear to God, but you can still laugh at the shit. And I don’t mean a functioning crackhead. He was on the block, teeth missing and every fucking thing.”
“Damn.” She giggled. “That’s funny but kind of sad.”
“It is, but I say that shit to say, don’t ever down yourself or take away from your accomplishments because you got a degree. You worked hard to build your business, and you ain’t gotta be humble ’bout that shit.”
“Thank you.”
“No need. Just speaking facts, baby. You being beautiful and successful is the same thing as me saying a chicken lays eggs; it just is what it is,” I spoke truthfully. “You being sexy on top of that is my opinion, though I’m sure plenty of niggas agree.”
“Shut up.” She blushed slightly.
“I like that you didn’t let yo’ parents bully you into some shit you ain’t wanna do. You got yo’ own mind and backbone. That shit ain’t as common as you think.”
“Yeah, I used to be so bothered by how they felt about me that I would be depressed for days or wondering if I should’ve listened to them, but I grew out of that, thankfully.
Started funneling that anger, sadness, and resentment into my business and designs.
Now, my parents don’t say much, just purposely make it clear they aren’t concerned with my career endeavors or business goals.
But to be honest, I don’t think Serene wanted to be a doctor, but she was afraid to receive the treatment I have and to disappoint our parents. ”
“See, not as common.”
“You’re right.” She ate some more. “They say kids react differently to their parents sometimes. They don’t all turn out the same despite growing up in the same household. A drunk father can produce a drunken son and a son who abstains from alcohol, just depends on the person they grow up to be.”
“That’s real shit.” I nodded, pondering on her insightful ass words. “I think my pops’ ways made me grow into an angry individual, especially in moments of survival,” I admitted for the first time ever in fucking life.
“What do you mean?” She scooted closer, giving me an even better whiff of her scent.