Carmen Read online

  Carmen was being serious and Narie knew that for sure.

  She licked her lips and then said, “Sis, he gotta take my breath away every time we’re together. If it’s a room full of people, I only want us to see each other.”

  From her lips to God’s ears.

  “My mind is somewhere else, I need to get home,” she admitted.

  He had to ask her because something had caused her to smile after looking so troubled and for some reason, he was curious to know what could that be.

  “What were you smiling about?”

  She didn’t expect him to ask.

  “Huh?”

  Neezy ran his hands down his beard.

  “What were you smiling about?”

  She shook her head, blushing…playfully.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, trust me.”

  “Try me.”

  He could go for some wild shit right now.

  She looked over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone in the massive home. Everyone was outside, enjoying themselves. For a second she wondered, when would her rainbow come and stay.

  It seemed as if every time she was happy or thought that she was finally entering a season of consecutive wins and blessings, something tripped her up.

  More like the devil came and snatched her joy up. Carmen was tired of playing with that man.

  “It’s going to sound crazy, but you look like my husband…in my dreams.”

  The look he gave her was of confusion and shock which automatically caused her to panic and clam up.

  “I cannot believe I just said that out loud.” She blinked those big lashes that he hated profusely and then said, “I think that I need a drink.”

  He didn’t go after her when she dramatically, stormed away. Neezy was honored though. She was beautiful. Extremely gorgeous. In another lifetime, he would be honored to be her husband. Right now, he had a lot on his plate and a woman was the last thing he needed to add to his list of things to tend to.

  He returned to the party and watched her hug and kiss Porter and all his peoples before bidding farewell. Neezy thought it was cute that she purposely ignored him and made sure her eyes didn’t connect to his.

  She did, however wave to his niece, Lira.

  “You good?”

  He was so engrossed in her every step that he didn’t see Big Mo approach him.

  Flashing him a smile and an extended hand so that he could shake it, he told him, “I’m awesome. What about you?”

  Mo couldn’t complain.

  “We came a long way from barbecues for the kids, you feel me?”

  Nehemiah wasn’t necessarily there yet, but he didn’t live in the hood anymore, so he understood where he was coming from.

  “Can’t wait to do some shit like this one day,” he shared with him.

  Mo encouraged him, “It’s coming sooner than you think. Don’t sleep on your potential.”

  Neezy asked only because he was wondering did Big Moses even know him well enough to say shit like that.

  “What’s my potential? Where does it lie?”

  He probed.

  Mo chuckled before taking another sip of the passion fruit martini or maybe, it was a margarita. Whatever it was, the shit was good, and he was on his third one which meant Teka would be driving them home.

  She was on yet another detox and wasn’t drinking right now.

  “It depends on what you’re focused on right now. You can do the real estate thing because it’s already set up. Or, you can nurture this land and get shit popping….and last but definitely not least. Your brother’s vision…”

  He could only chuckle at “Your brother’s vision.”

  “I’m not into music. I don’t want to be in the industry. Bunch of faggots and shit.”

  Porter caught the latter of the conversation and stopped mid-way.

  “Should I be offended?” he joked.

  Neezy shook his head, “Not at all. Different strokes for different boats.”

  “What’s wrong with the industry? Why not come in and stay true to you and don’t worry about conforming to what everyone else is doing,” Moses suggested.

  He was good on it though.

  “I got money. I’m straight.”

  Porter understood that mindset because he used to feel that way too.

  “You know it was your brother that pushed me to go a different route.”

  He didn’t want to fucking talk about his brother.

  “I appreciate the invitation; this was a dope ass party. I’m sure my niece done went live a million times. We about to be out. I put the gift on the table with the others.”

  He ended the conversation and his time at the Bavay’s residence all in one short and simple sentence.

  Moses prayed that Neezy wasn’t a lost cause. However, it was hard to knock some sense into an ignorant nigga who didn’t want to hear not even a little bit of what you were trying to imply. Moses refused to sit by him and see him sleep on his gift and at the same time, he had his family and their future to focus on. Porter nodded his head, “Thanks for coming.”

  He laid the conversation to rest and Big Mo followed suit.

  “Get home safe, keep me posted on the land.”

  Neezy hollered his niece’s name and motioned his hand for her to wrap it up so they could head home.

  The two gentlemen watched him leave out the backyard.

  Juice ambled over, “Was that Money lil’ brother?”

  P nodded his head, “Yep. That’s him. Neezy.”

  “I wanted to holler at him. I used to play that nigga mixtape the fuck out.”

  Neezy was a brewing artist. He simmered on low. His buzz wasn’t mighty but for those that gave him a chance, it wasn’t one that they regretted. He had a distinct sound and his own flavor.

  “Good luck,” P told him before going to play with his kids and love on his wife.

  Juice looked over to Moses for further input and he shrugged his shoulders, “Go for it. He in the streets though and doing pretty good for himself so money can’t be your angle.”

  He disagreed, “Who the fuck wanna hustle forever?”

  Moses shook his head, “Exactly. I tried to tell him that. You’re around his age maybe he can relate to you.”

  His cup was now empty, “I’m going to get another one of these passion fruit things. Ma’ fuckas got me lit!”

  Juice tried to consider another angle but gave up. This was his off-day. He was spending some much-needed quality time with his family and friends. Neezy would be a fool not to seize the possible opportunities before him.

  On the other side of town, Carmen had made it to the home she grew up in and down the steps in the basement. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath before exhaling it.

  It still boggled her spirit that she was raised in the bottom floor of a mansion. No matter how cute her mother tried to dress it up or how big and fluffy her bed was. The fact remained that they lived in the basement.

  Peasants.

  She could never be convinced by her momma that they weren’t living like bumpkins.

  If her father loved them so much like he claimed, why couldn’t they live in a house and he visit?

  Carmen recalled one time there was a house for sale in their million-dollar secluded subdivision and she was happy to tell her mom.

  “I found us a house!” A nine-year-old Carmen Kincaid trotted down the steps of the basement.

  “Carm, why are you running? Slow down baby.”

  She was out of breath as she ran into her mother’s arms with a flyer in her hands.

  “Look! Look! Can you ask daddy to buy us this house?”

  It was beautiful. Located in the back of the subdivision. The home had a backyard and a pool.

  Her mother read the flyer and then slowly crumbled it up with her hands.

  Carmen didn’t understand why she did that.

  “Wait, you didn’t show it to daddy yet? We can move. Momma, we
can have our own house…I can have my friends over in the living room…not down here…in the dark.”

  It didn’t matter how many lights and lamps her mom put up, they still lived in a dim basement and she hated it here.

  “We already have a house now go start on your homework.”

  She was sad and angry at the same damn time. Her mom didn’t understand.

  “This isn’t our house. We just live here!” she cried before running into her small bedroom and slamming the door.

  She cringed at the family photos that graced the mantle of the fireplace. Every holiday, she took pictures with Casey and her father. Then another photograph with her parents and Casey the same. There was hardly any evidence of their complex family. She searched high and low for a sign of distress from her mother. She desperately needed an answer. Not being able to trust Missy’s word alone, she damn near tore the basement up looking for a sign of her mother’s whereabouts. Her mother’s laptop was locked, and she couldn’t figure out the password for shit.

  To give herself a mental break before she messed anything up on the laptop, she slammed it and asked aloud, “Ma, why are you making this so hard for me?”

  She moved to her bedroom and searched the nightstands for answers and clues. To no avail, nothing came up.

  Carmen was now too tired to go anywhere. She tugged her mother’s knitted blanket over her body and drifted off to sleep.

  Her bed was the most comfortable place in the world.

  She never told anyone, but she slept with her mom until she was in the ninth grade.

  They’d always been best friends. Mainly depending on each other for solace and peace.

  What was she supposed to do without her?

  How could she exist without her mother?

  Carmen was perfectly fine with losing her father. She wasn’t nearly as triggered or affected as the rest of the family was.

  If anything, her emotions were related to years of rejection and neglect.

  She made her own amends with him and that was the end of that.

  But her momma… she was her rider.

  Her diary and her very best friend.

  In the middle of the night, Carmen rose out of bed to tinkle. Upon walking into their once shared bathroom were candles, loose leaves of sage and rosary beads.

  She was aware that her mother believed in a Higher Power, but it wasn’t Jesus Christ.

  Her mom had words of affirmation taped on the mirror and statements in a language that she didn’t understand.

  She stood there in awe.

  “Ma, where are you?” she whispered as she picked up a lighter and lit one of the white candles.

  Five

  I put my heart into senseless things. Money, bitches and street shit – J. Cole

  It was rare that Juice was in town these days so Porter had the fellas over and yet another invitation had been extended to Neezy. He was fasting today so opted out on eating any of the catered food.

  “What does the fasting do? Is it like intermittent fasting?” Xavier questioned.

  He shook his head, “People do that when they’re trying to lose weight. I’m fasting for understanding. Mind clear. Stomach clear. It’s a sacrifice that comes with a reward,” he tried to explain the best he could.

  Porter wanted him to be good and comfortable so he asked, “Can I get you anything other than food then?”

  “Is it true that y’all be killing goats and shit?” Ashton asked him.

  He didn’t answer his question. Ignorance was bliss.

  “I’ll take a bottle of water if you have one.”

  Porter went to retrieve it from upstairs and Neezy took a seat to roll a blunt.

  Juice had been in the corner, emailing and low-key profiling Money’s younger brother. Minutes later, after Mo had gave him the side-eye twice he ambled over to Neezy.

  “I don’t know if you remember me, but I looked up to your brother—"

  Today, he could do without the shared stories of Money. He hoped that every time he came around Porter and his people, they wouldn’t deem it necessary to share fables with him. Nehemiah knew his brother was a real nigga. It didn’t have to be mentioned or repeated every single fucking time.

  “Not really.”

  Juice picked up on his vibe and left it alone. Instead, he introduced himself, “I’m Juice.”

  He extended his hand draped in a Cartier bracelet and gold watch that probably costed everything Neezy had to his name.

  He stood up and shook his hand, firmly. Something he learned from his brother.

  “Good to meet you, bro.”

  He was familiar with the success story of P’s protégé, Jihad “Juice” Shahid formally known as Jamari McAfee.

  In another lifetime, he would’ve told him that he was interested in getting into the music industry. He used to think that he could swap it out for the streets. Maybe, make his brother happy.

  On the other hand, he reminded himself in that same thought that it really wasn’t his thing to be selling himself like a prostitute with good pussy. His pride was an issue.

  Truth be told, he was low-key terrified of doing anything other than hustling. Neezy didn’t plan on selling weed at thirty which meant something had to give and soon. It was time that he re-designed the blueprint for his life. Little did he know, he was currently in a room with some of the most influential people breathing.

  “Same here. I can’t act like I’m not familiar with you or your music. I love your witty metaphors and them interludes…I’ll turn all them shits into full tracks for an album,” he said coolly.

  Neezy was hella shocked to hear that this nigga knew his tunes.

  He was underground. A local celebrity. Not many people knew of him but those that did, believed that he was one of one. A precious gem. A voice worthy of recognition and airplay.

  “Word?”

  Juice nodded his head, “Every time you dropped a new track, your brother would make sure he sent it to me.”

  His words shot an emotional dagger to his heart.

  Tears flooded his eyes without warning. Neezy wasn’t a sucker or anything but five years later, his brother’s death still affected him heavily.

  “Every time?” his voice croaked.

  Juice was busy and whoever was texting him right now shouldn’t expect their text message to be read.

  It wasn’t until after the sun fell and rose again did he bother reviewing his messages, missed calls and a few voicemails for those that was still into doing those.

  As the water in the shower reached a temperature of his comfort, he decided which messages needed a response and those that weren’t really important.

  A text from the big homie Money read, “My mans…hope all is well with you. My lil’ brah doing his thang out here. Give it a listen when you’re free.”

  He couldn’t keep count of how many of these messages he’d received since his career took off, but Money was a real nigga. Someone that he met through P and Big Mo, so out of nothing but pure respect he clicked the link and connected it to the Bluetooth speaker. He made sure not to play it too loud because his boo was sleeping.

  Juice undressed and stepped in the shower.

  “Pay a pretty penny for my thoughts. Shorty give me that pussy with a cherry on top. I’m in a drop…. top…Getting mine. I stay on the grind...”

  That first line was so fuckin’ hard that he had to rewind it back.

  You always know when a song was good when you started it over, before you reached the first minute.

  Juice ended up playing all his shit. He’d became a fan overnight.

  “Why didn’t you get in contact with me then?” he only asked because maybe…just maybe he would’ve been famous by now and his brother wouldn’t be dead.

  η

  “Can we get away for the weekend?”

  She wanted to protest but didn’t.

  On top of the kids returning to school soon, she was getting ready to deliver their third and las
t child. They’d been married for three years now and for every year of their union thus far, Juice managed to have her knocked up and barefoot. Tia was getting her tubes tied after their son was born. Sis was tired of being pregnant. Three kids plus the three that Juice already had before they married was considered a full house during the weekends, summers and holidays. Tia planned on hiring a nanny because she was eager to complete some of her passion projects. Her husband had surpassed every goal of his and now, it was time for her to get back on her grind.

  She loved the role of mother, wife, sister and friend too, but Tia had a few new personal goals on her vision board. With a supportive family and a kick-ass tribe, she was more determined than ever.

  “Sure…okay. Let me call your mom.”

  For the time, she was the only person they trusted with their children.

  Tia had to find the energy to interview nannies and caregivers.

  In between running her non-profit, being a mom and supportive bonus-mom, making sure her husband didn’t have a breakdown and managing her blog, time was scarce.

  He watched her walk away and was happy that she didn’t tell him no or offer him an excuse. Juice was adamant about being a good husband. It started with being a noble man, every day of the week. Marriage was work. Their first year was easy. Surprisingly.

  Everyone told them that the first year would be hell, but it wasn’t for the Shahid’s.

  The second year though…shit was rough.

  His label took off and he was never ever home. Tia was pregnant for the second time and was moody as fuck. She wanted her man home with her. Not their parents or her friends.

  She wanted her husband.

  Tia shut everything down by sending him a picture of an empty home and said, “Is this what you want to come home to because if you don’t prioritize what’s important to you, I’m walking out of the door and I am not coming back.”

  She was serious too.

  Juice did what he had to do, and they’ve been great ever since.

  His schedule was synced with her calendar therefore she had no surprises at what he had to do and where he had to be.