by Leo Sullivan
“Sunday, I don’t know what you feedin’ this little boy, but he is heavy as hell! Big babies must run in your side of the family because King and Nikki were never this big.”
King’s mother, who had told everyone to refer to her as Glam-Ma Joe, smacked her lips as she walked onto the back deck holding her newest grandbaby in her arms. Malik, Jr., affectionally known to his family as M.J., was only three months old and looked like an exact replica of his father.
“I’m still breastfeeding. He’s not eating real food yet,” Sunday spoke up, finally tearing her eyes away from her daughter to look up at her son. He was in full recline in his grandmother’s arms with one fat leg hanging off to the side.
“His ass must be greedy, like his daddy. It don’t make no sense for a baby this young to be this damn big at only three months. His heavy ass need to learn how to walk soon.”
Giggling, Sunday rolled her eyes and watched as her mother-in-law took a seat next to her. The funny thing about it was that they had more than enough rockers, mats and blankets for M.J. to be placed in, but his grandma refused to put him down. She could complain all she wanted about how big a baby he was and how hard it was to hold him; the facts were that she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Lifting her head, Sunday took a moment to stare at the setting sun and then half-turned to look behind her. Her right hand was perched on top of her stomach, rubbing her growing belly. She was pregnant, yet again, but she loved it. As her mother-in-law stated, she was a baby making machine and motherhood agreed with her. Her greatest joys in life were the moments when she was preparing to bring an unborn child into the world, and she loved every single second that followed. As soon as her six weeks were up after M.J’s birth, King ended up getting her pregnant again. After spending so much time wanting it to happen and being devastated each time that life was lost, it seemed selfish to limit her body by using birth control. At some point, she would, but that was not a necessity now.
“Where is that son of yours anyways? He’s about to miss our favorite part of the day,” she said, still searching for King.
“Inside. He was on a call, speakin’ to Bullethead or whatever his name is.”
Sunday choked on her giggles. “You mean, Bulletproof?”
Glam-Ma Joe rolled her eyes. “Girl, I don’t know. Yeah, him or whatever his name is.”
With his eyes on everyone in the world who mattered most to him, King stood inside the large estate that he’d purchased for his growing family with his phone in hand. Bulletproof and Dolo were taking turns, talking a mile a minute, as they filled him in on everything that was going on back stateside with The JDB. He was happy for them, but he was only half-listening. As he looked at his family, the only thing he could think about was how grateful he was to be granted this part of his life.
“We all legit now, nigga!” Dolo was saying as Bulletproof laughed in the background. “This music shit is makin’ more money than that street shit ever did. We doin’ shows damn near every night, muthafuckas flyin’ us from city-to-city, everybody want a piece of JDB.”
“Yeah, shit been crazy, dog!” Bulletproof cut in. “I ain’t slept in like four days. I’m hype as fuck on this lean. Shit… I wasn’t supposed to tell you that but anyways—I’m just tryin’ to say I stay lit!”
Laughing to himself, King shook his head. Later on, he would warn them to calm it down so they didn’t get lost out there while they were living like rock stars, but that would be a lesson for another day. They were young, rich and felt invincible. What they were doing now was a natural phase of life. For the moment, he was just happy that they were no longer in the streets.
“Yo, King, we got a gift for you, man. From the intel I just got, it should arrive in five, four, three, two…”
Ding, dong!
“One! There it go,” both men said in unison.
“The fuck y’all niggas been up to? This better not be no shifty lookin’ nigga at my door,” King joked as he walked out to the front.
“Hell nah, you know we don’t play like that. It’s JDB all day, baby. We wouldn’t send nobody out there who ain’t on the team.”
“Fa sho,” Dolo said, joining in.
King took a moment to check out the peephole and saw a Black man standing outside, dressed in a suit and holding a large box in his hands. He wasn’t someone he’d ever seen before but, on Bulletproof and Dolo’s word, he opened the door.
“Mr. Shields, this is a delivery from The JDB,” the man said as soon as he saw King’s face. “Before showing you the contents inside, I want to first let you know that I have the utmost respect for you and I have pledged my life to you, my blood and my team. JDB forever.”
With a nod and a straight face, King acknowledged his words and then stepped back for the box to be opened. The man grabbed at the top, pulled it back and King took in a sharp breath once he saw what was inside.
There were two heads: Daze and Shotti’s.
The night that he’d shown Sunday the faces on his phone, he had been prepared to also let her know that he hadn’t been able to find Daze as of yet but seeing her break down made him change her mind. Though he knew that he would make sure no harm came to her and vowed to get up with Daze as soon as he got comfortable enough to show his face again, he couldn’t leave and allow her to live every day until then in fear.
After they left for Cuba, King then discovered that Shotti had knowledge of, not only the robberies, but everything that Makita was doing even though he had no parts in it. Regardless to him being involved or not, knowing about it made him just as guilty.
“Thank you,” King said to the man and nodded his head again before closing the door.
“Merry Christmas, man!” Bulletproof’s cheerful voice erupted from the phone speaker.
“Nigga, it’s July,” Dolo replied.
“So what? Nigga, you a hater! Since we ain’t get him nothing last year, this can be for last Christmas and this one coming.”
“Y’all niggas wild,” King said, chuckling to himself.
Ending the call with a quick goodbye, he slid it into his pocket and began to make his way out to the back to join his family. Since moving to Cuba, there hadn’t been a single sunset that he and Sunday hadn’t enjoyed together. He wouldn’t break tradition.
“I love you, King,” she said, leaning into him as he took his place at her side.
With his eyes on the sky, he dipped his nose down into the crown of her head and sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent.
“And I love you, Mrs. Sunday Shields. Always have and I always will.”
Author’s Note
First, I would like to thank God Almighty for blessing me with the ability to write and helping me on my literary journey. To my wife, Porscha Sterling, my sons, Alphonzo and King-King, I love you all more than life.
To my fans, I love you all! I try to respond to every last one of the comments, messages and emails that I receive. It doesn’t take much to make a brotha or sista smile and show them they are appreciated.
To the authors signed to LSP, thank you all for being some of the hardest working in the game. Your motivation, determination and drive fuels me.
Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought about this book. I love to read your thoughts. Make sure to check out the LiT Reading App and my website, www.leolsullivan.com to stay up-to-date on everything that is going on with me and my work.
Until we meet again, God bless.
Leo Sullivan
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