Chapter 10
Two Months Later
I was sitting here a little pissed at myself for getting caught up in this secret admirer shit.
I’m an artist, and the muthafuckin plug!
I’m the nigga who moved weight, made deals, and handled business without emotion clouding my judgment.
One who will put a bullet in your head for looking at me wrong.
I can get pussy at the drop of a dime, these women were waiting in line to be the one on my arm.
This was not a bragging moment, but more of an observation.
Yet here I was sitting around, damn near checking the mail every fucking day like I worked at the post office delivering mail.
That shit sounded crazy, even in my own head.
For the past three months, I’d gotten a letter every single Saturday without fail.
It had become routine at this point. I wake up, eat breakfast, and check the fuckin’ mail.
This shit was like clockwork, and if the mail doesn’t come in the morning, you better believe I’m checking that shit at noon.
I know the damn mail lady by her first name; she doesn’t even get a chance to put the mail into my box because I’m right there to get it.
You see how crazy that shit sound, like I’m some lovesick puppy?
What was really fuckin’ with me is that she missed a week.
Last Saturday I didn’t get a letter. I hated how much that shit bothered me.
At first, I tried convincing myself I didn’t care.
Told myself maybe she got bored. Maybe she finally realized how insane this whole thing was.
Maybe she moved on. The truth of the matter is, I missed her.
I guess what I’m saying is, I missed the version of her I created in my head.
This woman had grown on me through words, and I couldn’t even explain it if I tried.
It seemed like with every letter I was pulling back a layer of her soul.
It seemed as if I knew her, like I’ve been knowing her all my life.
I knew about her childhood, like being in foster care.
I knew she loved the rain and was scared of the thunder; she was afraid of spiders, she was allergic to coconut, she absolutely loved seafood, tacos, and pasta. She’s a dreamer.
The way she viewed love, being in love and properly loved was a big one for her.
She wanted to be married, and every so often, she would go try on wedding dresses.
I even knew her favorite songs; as a matter of fact, ‘Peace Is Gold’, ‘Use Somebody’, and ‘What You Need’ are played in rotation and on repeat several times a day.
It was playing in the background right now.
All of these things about this woman had me so intrigued.
This was a dangerous game because, man, I don’t like my heart being involved in some shit that I couldn’t see or touch.
I couldn’t call her. I couldn’t text her, and I couldn’t even respond to these damn letters.
All I could do was sit around waiting for her to decide when she wanted to reach out to me again.
I never in a million years thought I’d be caught up over a woman whose face I’d never seen.
Yet, here I was losing sleep, wondering who she was, what she looked like, and why the hell I felt so connected to her.
The need to meet her was wearing my ass out, my mental was fucking with me over this.
I just wanted to see her. Hear her voice in person.
Look in her eyes while she explained the ‘why me’ part of this.
It’s so many damn men in this world... why did she decide I was the one she wanted to take through this?
What’s even crazier is she had me so eager to meet her daughter.
I knew she loved pizza, she wasn’t a morning person, and she loves .
I’ve even found myself wondering what cartoons she liked.
Like, did her laughs make you laugh? Whether she acted like her mom or the bitch ass nut that helped create her?
For some reason, hearing about how he treated her, had me ready to beat that nigga’s ass.
I tried to remain poised, but the truth was, I’ma unhinged nigga.
I go from zero to a thousand in seconds.
Gizelle’s heels clacking against my marble tile jolted me out of my thoughts. I rubbed my hands over my face before leaning back in my chair with a frustrated sigh.
“Fuck! This shit got my mind all fucked up,” I whispered.
Deep down I already knew no matter how hard I tried to say fuck this shit, I wasn’t reading no more of those letters.
I’m not getting caught up in this shit, I’m Legacy fuckin’ Porter.
I was too far gone, and I’m not going to rest until I knew who the fuck was sending these letters.
“Morning. Why the hell you look so stressed?” Zelly questioned, walking into the kitchen.
I chuckled ’cause this girl had on a Versace pantsuit with this jacket that dragged against the floor, and of course a pair of red bottom stilettos.
Zelly didn’t go nowhere without a pair of red bottoms gracing her feet.
Her hair was flowing down her back, not a strand out of place.
And her makeup looked like she just stepped out of the MUA’s chair.
I would bet my entire net worth that she got twin burners strapped on her sides.
I don’t even have to ask her where she’s going because that didn’t even matter; she would be dressed like this even if she was going to the grocery store.
To the naked eye, all you see is a beautiful woman, but underneath all of that, she’s a woman that would slice your neck while you’re sitting there slicing your next piece of porterhouse steak to put in your mouth.
I heard my elevator ding, and seconds later, Rome came walking into the kitchen. I almost forgot this nigga stayed here last night. You would think these niggas get mail here as much as they sleep over. My alarm notification went off, and I jumped up like my ass was on fire.
“The hell wrong with him?” I heard Rome ask.
“He has a pen pal. Well, she’s the only one penning ’cause he doesn’t even know who she is. But you get what I’m saying,” Zelly told him.
“A pen pal? The bitch in jail? Ohhh lawd, not big dawg!” Rome said as I walked back into the kitchen.
“So yo ass running through the house trying to tackle the mailbox to get a letter from somebody in the penitentiary?”
“Both of y’all go to hell. And she’s not in jail,” I blurted.
“Nigga, how do we even know that it’s a she that we’re talking about?
That’s probably a whole bitch with a dick.
Bruh bringing all the boys to the yard! Lawd not my dawg.
We gon’ keep this shit between us. Good thing you ain’t meet the nigitch so they can’t say you teetering the lines of the rainbow committee.
” Rome shrugged, and I wanted to pull my gun out and crack that nigga in the head.
Gizelle was hanging over in the chair, trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard.
Her ass lucky I didn’t hit women ‘cause I would for sure tip that muthfuckin chair over.
“Dawg! What the hell is a nigitch?” She asked, still in a fit of laughter while looking over at Rome.
“That’s a nigga and bitch together. ’Cause at this point, who are you, Ms. Man?” With him saying that shit, it had her ass gasping for air, and they were falling all on each other like it was the funniest shit they heard in their life.
I was sitting here thinking of ways to fuck them up. “Fuck y’all!” I spat. Turning on the surround sound to play my three songs.
‘Use Somebody’ by Kings of Leon started playing, and Zelly’s face twisted up. “What the hell! Is that heavy metal?” she asked, listening to the intro of the song.
“Nah, that’s my shit! Nigga what you know about Kings of Leon!
I’ve been roaming around always looking down and all I see.
You know that I can use somebody! Someone like you!
Yeahhhhh that’s my song right there.” Rome was in here beating his damn hands on the counter, shaking his head all damn hard like he was the drummer and singing all at the same damn time. This nigga works my damn nerves.
The alarm chimed again, and I pulled my camera up on my phone this time instead of running out to see if it was the mail being delivered. When I saw the mail truck, I almost broke my ankle trying to get outside.
“Damn, that nigga got it bad for an imaginary nigitch!” I heard Rome say, and him and Zelly burst into laughter. All I know is, when I get back, I’m pulling my gun out and putting these funky bitches out of my shit.
I grabbed the mail out of the box, and my heart damn near stopped when I saw her handwriting.
A sigh of relief overcame me, and I was eager as hell to read it.
I went back inside and walked into the kitchen, not thinking about them being there.
I sat in my chair at the island and opened the letter.
I felt them standing behind me, and I didn’t even care that they were probably reading it too.
I tuned them out and focused on the letter.
Legacy,
I’ve been sitting here thinking about you heavy today.
I’m sorry I missed a letter last week. I’m not even sure if you even noticed it honestly.
But in the event that you did, my apologies.
Last week was so rough on me. On the bright side, my daughter has been the highlight of my days.
Sometimes I can’t believe that she really came from me, but she definitely inherited the best parts of me.
She has all of my features and a great deal of my mannerisms. She’s such a beautiful little girl.