The Trophy Wife

by Ashley

  “Come on, sleepyhead.” Jada grabbed Kalil’s hand and tried to pull him up, but Kalil playfully pulled her onto the couch and began to tickle her.

  After a couple of minutes of playing, Kalil finally got up and focused on the big task ahead—getting his eight-year-old ready for school.

  Kalil patted Jada’s big sandy-brown Afro. “What are we going to do with this hair?”

  He suddenly got an idea. Without even putting on shoes, he headed out of the door and went across the hall to Roxi’s place and knocked on the door. After seconds of waiting, he finally heard her voice.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Kalil.”

  “Kalil?” Roxi said in surprise as she stood on the opposite side of the door. She slowly opened it up and saw her childhood crush on her doorstep. She knew that he would eventually come to his senses and try to push up on her. She smiled like a child. Just the thought of him made her love box thump. This sexy-ass nigga knocking on my door this early in the morning. I knew he would come around. She loosened her grip on her robe, suggestively showing Kalil her bra-and-panty set. The cold air made her nipples instantly hard, and to her surprise, Kalil’s eyes stayed above her neck.

  “Hey, Kalil, how may I help you?” she said in her sexiest bedroom voice.

  “What up, Roxi? Sorry to bother you, but I got a little problem that I need you to help me with.”

  Roxi’s face lit up. This was the day she’d waited for since she was a little girl. “Whatever you want, Kalil.”

  Kalil grew a blank look on his face as he realized Roxi’s intentions. He didn’t want to embarrass her, so he just got to the point. “I got my daughter across the hall, and she’s got to be at school in an hour. I would really appreciate if—“

  “Say no more. I got you, Kalil. How old is she?” She was disappointed, but would still help Kalil out. This man ain’t never noticed you before, so he ain’t about to start now, she told herself as she waited for Kalil to reply.

  “She’s eight.”

  “My little sister is about her age. I’ll be over there after I put on some clothes,” she said, slightly embarrassed. I can’t believe I came at him all desperate. What was I thinking?

  “Thanks, ma. I owe you,” Kalil said as he returned to Quinn’s apartment.

  Five minutes later Roxi came over and did Jada’s hair and gave her some of her sister’s clothes to wear to school. Kalil looked at his beautiful daughter and was glad that she had taken off those boyish clothes. He finally had his daughter back.

  Eight Hours Later

  “Yo, this is some bullshit,” Kalil said as he walked through the door and loosened his tie.

  “No luck, fam?” Quinn licked the blunt, preparing to split it.

  “Nobody is trying to hire a black ex-con. I can’t catch a break for shit. I’ve had five interviews today, and because of my record, they all turned me down.” Kalil flopped down on the couch in frustration.

  Quinn took a long pull of the blunt he had in his mouth and answered while the smoke was still in his lungs. “I don’t know why you are stressing over a bullshit job. The answer to all your problems is in Manhattan, fam.”

  Kalil knew exactly what Quinn was referring to, but he vowed he would never go that route again.

  Quinn continued, “You should go and holla at Hova and get put back in the game. That’s where the money at.”

  “I am not going back to the streets. I already have two strikes, and if I get knocked again, it’s over for me. I couldn’t put Jada through that, not again.”

  “I respect your decision, but all I ever known you to be was a hustler.” Quinn took another drag of his blunt and shook his head from side to side. “Remember when Hova hit you with that weight? Man, we made over a hundred thousand in a month span. That was living right there. We could take over the game. That shit Fatboy putting in the streets is garbage. If the hood gets a taste of Hova’s product, we could really make some noise. Just think about it, Kalil.”

  “I’m not fucking with it, Quinn. I’m out for good,” Kalil said, agitation in his voice this time.

  Quinn decided to give it up. He knew that it was no use trying to persuade his cousin, so he changed the subject. “You need to get out and have some fun, my nigga. Let’s hit this new club in Manhattan tonight called Club Heaven. All the finest shorties in the city be in there.”

  “No doubt. I need to get out anyway.”

  Just then the house phone rang. Quinn picked up the phone and glanced at the caller ID. “Yo, fam, it’s Destiny. She’s been calling my phone all day.” He handed Kalil the cordless phone.

  “Hello,” Kalil answered with a sigh.

  Destiny’s voice blared through the phone. “Where the fuck you been, Kalil? I’ve been calling you all day.”

  “Here you go with that shit.” Kalil shook his head, preparing for the drama.

  “Nigga, fuck you! Bring Jada back home, Kalil. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “Who you talking to like that? You better remember who the fuck you talking to. You had Fatboy dick in yo’ mouth when you were supposed to be watching my baby. Anything could’ve happened to her while you were—”

  “Nigga, you ain’t shit no more!” Destiny yelled into the phone. “You ain’t getting any money! Yo’ broke ass is over there at Quinn’s house doing nothing. Maybe Fatboy can show you a thang or two ’bout getting paper. You’s a mu’fuckin’ has-been. Ol’ sorry, no-good-fa-nothin’ nigga!”

  Kalil didn’t know what to say to Destiny. She had never talked to him like that. Since he had been locked up, she had gotten real disrespectful. He knew she could never be his chick again. No woman should talk to her man that way. He remembered the days when she worshipped the ground he walked on. As he sat and listened to her bitch, he realized that it was the money that she loved. His pride was crushed.

  “Look, Des, I will bring Jada home on Sunday. Just let me keep her for the weekend. I ain’t seen my shorty in years. We got some catching up to do,” Kalil stated in a calm tone, trying to keep the peace with her.

  “Whatever. You make sure you take my baby to dance practice today. She has to go every day and don’t have any bitches around my—”

  Before she could even finish her bickering, Kalil introduced her to the dial tone. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit, I have to go pick up Jada.” With that, he rushed out to retrieve his daughter from school.

  Kalil had spent the entire day with Jada and gave her his undivided attention. They watched all of Jada’s favorite Disney movies.

  Although Kalil didn’t show it, Destiny’s words had gotten to him. He wasn’t used to not having money. Every time he thought about getting back into the drug game, the sight of Jada enjoying his company altered his decision. I have to be here for her, I have to. Fuck it, I’ll work at a fast-food joint before I put my freedom at stake again.

  Kalil watched Jada nod off on the couch next to him. He gently kissed her on the top of her head and put a blanket over her. He turned off the movie and prepared to get ready for his night out. Roxi had agreed to come over and keep an eye on Jada while he and Quinn went to the club. Kalil tip toed out the door to go and get Roxi, and moments later returned with her and prepared to get ready for his night out.

  Kalil and Quinn bobbed their heads to the music as they pulled up to the downtown Manhattan club. The club was packed, and the line wrapped around the corner. “Damn, it’s jumping in there.” Kalil leaned forward in his seat to get a better view.

  “I told you, son, this is the spot right here.”

  They parked the car and hopped out. Quinn had on a cocaine-white Sean Jean leather jacket and wore butter Tims on his feet, overshadowing his cousin, who wore a black hoodie with jeans and definitely didn’t look like his old self.

  Years back Kalil always wore the flyest shit. Now he felt naked without a Jesus piece around his neck.

  Quinn didn’t say it, but it kind of felt good to finally outshine his cousin. The
ir roles had totally switched.

  Even though Kalil wasn’t dressed like a boss, in his mind he still was one. He wasn’t dressed to impress, but no one could take his swagger away from him. Quinn had offered him some of his clothes, but he had too much pride to be rocking another man’s gear.

  As they approached the line, Kalil heard someone call his name from the front. It was Peanut, his old worker.

  “Yo, Kalil! What up, my nigga?” Peanut, the doorman to the club, held a clipboard in his hand.

  “Yo, what’s good, son?” Kalil smiled and threw his hands up.

  “Come on, son, you don’t have to wait in line.” Peanut waved Kalil toward him.

  Kalil and Quinn stepped out of line and headed to the front. Kalil and Peanut locked hands and gave each other a brief embrace. Kalil stared at Peanut and noticed he had grown since the last time he’d seen him. He used to be a scrawny, seventeen-year-old corner boy before Kalil went in the joint. Now he had grown facial hair and bulked up. He used to push “blow” for Kalil and was known to bust his gun. Peanut laid his murder game down even as a young kid, and Kalil had respect for his little man.

  “My nigga, when you get out?”

  “I just touched down, nah mean?” Kalil said in a strong New York accent.

  “No doubt. Yo, Hova’s going to be happy to see you. He’s upstairs.” Peanut opened the club door to let them in.

  Kalil had a look of confusion on his face. He knew that Hova was slipping. A powerful man like that shouldn’t be in a packed club like Heaven. “Yo, my man Hova in there?”

  “Yeah, he owns this joint,” Peanut answered.

  It all began to make sense to Kalil. He frowned and looked at his cousin. He realized it wasn’t a coincidence that Quinn had suggested that particular club.

  Quinn wanted Kalil to get back in with Hova for his own personal reasons. He was trying to get back in the dope game, and Kalil’s connection with Hova was his key. He gave Kalil a cheesy grin and threw both of his hands up. “What?”

  “You knew this was Hova’s club, nigga.”

  Quinn threw his arm around Kalil’s neck and guided him into the club. “Yo, cuz, let’s just have some fun.”

  Kalil was upset, but he wasn’t going to fuck up the night. “All right, fam, let’s have some fun.” He gave Quinn a forced grin.

  As soon as they entered the building, the luxurious club captivated them. It was simply immaculate. The floors were made of marble, and the whole club had a “heavenly” theme. Beautiful women dressed in seductive angel outfits danced in secluded cages that hung from the club’s ceiling. The walls were painted with clouds, and the place was lined with white couches. The club had three different floors, all playing different music. Kalil was definitely impressed.

  Kalil and Quinn walked through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea. Kalil definitely had a presence in the building. He must have slapped about fifty people’s hands. He grew uncomfortable because every time someone approached him they looked at his wardrobe in confusion. It was a known fact that Kalil used to shut the club down with the best jewels and latest fashions.

  He and Quinn found a booth in the back with a clear view of the dance floor. Kalil watched as the assorted ladies moved their bodies seductively to R. Kelly’s hit song. Four years of jail had him on an ass drought, so naturally he caught a wood. As they slid into the booth, Kalil asked, “Is it me, or is every chick in here a dime piece?”

  “That’s that four years of jail talking. Anything probably looks good to you right now.” Quinn called over a waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne and continued to converse with his cousin.

  In the middle of their conversation, Peanut approached their table with a bottle of Dom in his hand. Kalil checked out his former worker and realized how much he had stepped his game up. The iced-out pinky ring and the Jesus piece on his necklace had to easily cost him around ten stacks.

  Kalil respected it and knew that he was only following in his footsteps. Kalil ran the streets before he got locked up. If he didn’t have anything else, he knew he had respect in the streets. He had put in too much work not to.

  Peanut sat the bottle on the table and leaned toward Kalil so he could hear him over the music. “Yo, Hova sent you this bottle. He heard you were down here and wants you to come up and holla at him.”

  Kalil really didn’t want to see Hova because he knew the conversation was going to lead to street business, something that Kalil wanted no part of. Every time he thought about entering the drug game and potentially leaving his daughter again, he turned cold toward the streets, but out of respect for Hova, he decided to talk to him.

  “No doubt. Where he at?”

  Peanut looked at the upper level and pointed to the glass office overlooking the club. Kalil followed his finger and saw Hova overlooking the club with both of his hands behind his back. Kalil took a drink of the Dom and then leaned over to Quinn to tell him that he was about to have a word with Hova and would return shortly.

  Quinn nodded his head nonchalantly, but on the inside he was beaming. As Kalil got up and headed toward the wraparound stairs, Quinn began to rub his hands together, thinking about the money they were about to get. Kalil is a mu’fuckin’ hustler. He’s going to get back in the game. That hustler’s ambition is going to kick in sooner or later.

  Chapter Three

  Kalil sat in front of Hova and his crew, better known as his twelve disciples. Kalil could feel the tension in the room as Hova’s disciples tried to read him. He sat and waited for Hova to speak. Hova’s stare was intense, but Kalil wasn’t intimidated. He knew that they had unfinished business, but what he didn’t know was whether he was in good or bad standing with the stone-faced white man sitting in front of him. Hova’s aqua blue eyes scanned the room as he sat back in his leather chair, his legs crossed. His blond hair and tan skin would make most men underestimate him. However, Kalil wasn’t one of those men. He’d witnessed firsthand the repercussions of go-ing against the grain and was well aware that Hova was a killer. In fact, he was a cold-blooded murderer. He could touch whoever he wanted to, and Kalil had heard of him murdering innocent women and children just to prove himself to his majority black clientele.

  Bottom line, most people didn’t want to be made an example by Hova. He didn’t have love in New York, he didn’t receive love from the streets—he was feared by them. That was what separated him from his competition. He didn’t seek the street fame. He wanted people to fear him, and most did, but Kalil was one of the few men who didn’t.

  “Give us a little bit of privacy,” Hova said to his loyal disciples.

  The men walked out slowly while Hova and Kalil eyed each other intensely. Kalil shifted in his seat. It had been four years since he’d last seen Hova, and the silence in the room was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Kalil was naked in the club. He wasn’t strapped that night because he knew that he couldn’t bring his gun inside. He was well aware of Hova’s tactics and knew that there were weapons stashed in various spots around the room, and that if they’d had beef for whatever reason, he would’ve been in trouble.

  Hova got up and walked over to the sixty-inch plasma television that hung on his office wall and pressed a red button. The TV lifted, revealing a loaded minibar behind it. “You want a drink?” Hova poured himself a glass of cognac.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Kalil replied.

  “I heard about the deal that you were offered.” Hova took a sip of the yak (cognac). “I appreciate your loyalty.”

  “I got myself into that situation. Wasn’t no point in pulling another man down with me, nah mean?”

  Hova nodded his head and paced around the room as if he were contemplating a big decision. He pointed a finger at Kalil. “You see, that’s why we get along—we understand this business.” He went over to the bar and pressed the red button again, but this time, instead of the TV sliding back into place, a safe came into view. Hova discreetly entered the combination and opened the safe, revealing the g
old mine inside.

  Hova removed a 9 mm pistol and four kilos of cocaine from the safe. He sat the items in front of Kalil and watched as Kalil’s eyes danced curiously on the objects in front of him. “It’s good to have you home, Kalil. That right there is everything that you need to take back what is yours. We can easily put our business together back in motion. Just say the word.”

  Damn! I could flip this. Kalil picked up the gun and admired the chrome. He quickly put it down and slid it back across the table toward Hova. “Thanks, man. It feels good to be home. I don’t have too much use for that, though,” Kalil stated. “I’m trying to keep my hands clean, you know?”

  “You’re a smart man. Never make the same mistake twice.”

  Kalil nodded to acknowledge what Hova had said.

  “Well, when you’re ready to step back into the game, I’ll be here. There is a lot of new money to be made in New York. I’ll even give them to you at a discount, to show my appreciation.”

  Kalil thought about the money and seriously contemplated Hova’s proposition. “What type of discount we talking?”

  “Twelve a joint.”

  Hova was practically giving Kalil the weight, considering he charged everybody else he dealt with $19,000 per kilo. Thoughts of luxury living quickly filled Kalil’s head, but they were just as quickly replaced with thoughts of his daughter’s face.

  “Nah, Hov, I’m gon’ fall back for a minute. I just got home, so I’m trying to lay low for a while.”

  “You know I had to give it a shot. You copped more than all of my other clients put together.” Hova stood and walked to the two-way mirror, which allowed him to see the dance floor beneath him. He pulled a platinum cigar case from his pocket and removed a Cuban cigar, which he held between his fingers as he talked. “Well, I’ll tell you what, you know how to contact me. You call me when you’re ready to get your feet wet again. If you need anything, just let me know and it’s done.”