by Renee Tyler
“Troy. This is amazing…beautiful.” I was so relieved; she liked it. All this buying gifts and shit was truly uncharted territory for me. I didn’t want to say that I bought it because it reminded me of her eyes, because that’s cliché, but that was why I bought it. When I was looking for a birthday gift for her, I wandered into Tiffany’s not really thinking I’d find anything. When I saw that necklace and pendent, I thought of L’oriel’s eyes and the way gold just seems to glow on her skin.
To avoid this potential corny ass moment, I just told her to turn around so I can put it on her. Once I have the necklace locked in place, I admired the choice I made. I’m just as pleased with myself as I was when I came to her condo and saw how good my decorator had done with what I told her about L’oriel, and what she wanted in her place. L’oriel looks down and holds the open heart between her thumb and index finger.
“Thank you,” she says before she attacks my mouth.
῀
On the plane ride home, I had to go on and make L’oriel a member of the mile-high club. I didn’t give her what she wanted on the way to the Bahama’s. I was worried about her reaction. I didn’t want her to flip out like she did when I furnished her apartment. I just never know with L’oriel. I don’t know if she’s going to receive my gifts with praise, or be pissed off because she thinks I’m trying to stifle her independence. I can’t get over the fact that I care so much.
I never was one to lavish a woman with gifts. I was excited that L’oriel was excited. When I told her that I’d arranged for her to go to the spa, she wrapped her legs around me, squeezing me between her thighs as she kissed me all over my face and fucked me stupid. She’d actually never had a message before. She came back from the spa in tears. She couldn’t believe that I thought to do something so sweet for her. Man, that girl is a crybaby. She purchased a mason jar and placed sand, shells, and a few of the rose petals that I had placed around the room in the jar. She said she wanted to preserve it as a memory, then cried when I had the driver go all the way back because she forgot it. She has to be the most sensitive person I’ve ever met. That’s one of the things I love about her; she’s my crybaby. I had the time of my life with her though. We made love all over the place.
As soon as we made it back to my house and I turned on my phones, I had too many messages. I didn’t expect to have messages from my lawyer, PR rep, my uncle, Jordan, and even Jesse. I had to see what was going on. I had to make sure L’oriel didn’t mind. I didn’t want her to feel that I was putting her off and we’d just touched down. When she waved me off, stripped down, and got under the covers, I was satisfied that she’d be okay so I took off to my office.
“What’s up, Jordan? I got every damn media outlet blowing up my phone. What’s going on?” I always call Jo-Jo first. He knows the best way to deliver news; everybody else so damn hyped. They’ll have me all pissed off and not thinking clearly. My uncle doesn’t take shit serious enough for me sometimes.
I didn’t know what to make of what could be going on. I hadn’t had this type of media attention since I signed my contact as creative director with Nike to design their new running shoe.
“First, man how was your trip? Did L’oriel like all her surprises?” I had to laugh. I know it must be some shit because Jordan was trying to smooth me over. Whatever it was, I know I’m going to need this conversation so I go with it.
“Yeah, she liked them. Tell Rebecca thank you for me. Especially since you’ve put her on your own self-imposed maternity leave. She really loved the spa. So, how’s Rebecca and the baby doing?”
I could almost hear his pride beaming through the phone. Jordan and Rebecca had been married since we turned twenty-one. They were having the hardest time getting pregnant.
Though they married at twenty-one, they’d been together since middle school. When the beautiful Ethiopian girls moved to our neighborhood, we’d never knew girls that looked like them lived in Africa. We’d only seen those Feed the Children commercials. Rebecca and her sister were the furthest from anything that we’d seen in those commercials. They had been fed, and well. Rebecca and her older sister by a year Beatrice were the most beautiful girls we’d ever seen. Jordan, Rebecca, and I were all in the same class. Jordan immediately told me she was off limits before she’d even sat in her seat. I was upset about him claiming her first, until the end of the day and I saw her sister.
Beatrice and I took each other’s virginity. Man, we used to get it in everywhere. That’s how I began to make sure I had condoms on me at all times. Beatrice wanted it all the time. I had to be ready to deliver. That girl had my nose wide open. I was so in love. It’s funny, because we didn’t have anything in common, but we sexed each other the best two teenagers could. Back then, Jordan and I mowed lawns and raked leaves to make money. I was giving that girl all my coins.
Beatrice and I were together until two years after she started high school. She left me for the pretty boy triathlete named Clarence Higgins. He pulled all the shorties back in the day. He played basketball, ran track, and was on the swim team. I hated his guts in high school. Every time he saw me in the hallway, he’d throw his tongue down Beatrice’s throat. Once I got over her, I vowed to protect my heart and never be a sucker for a pretty face and a wet hole again.
I shook my head; I hadn’t thought about Beatrice in years. I never even ask Rebecca about her sister, and she doesn’t tell me about her. Maybe she thinks I’m still salty or she’s a sore spot for me; then again, maybe so. I haven’t been in love like that until now. I cared deeply for Alexis. My relationship with her was very controlled. I don’t have the same control in my relationship with L’oriel. That’s what scares me. With Beatrice, what I felt then wasn’t love that was lust; however, I’m cautious with my feelings.
Rebecca worked for me also. She had a degree in culinary arts. When she graduated, she worked at a five-star restaurant. However, the head chef couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I shake my head at the memory of me trying to keep the normally calm Jordan from killing that man. Since she lost her love of being in a restaurant, she began cooking for me two days a week. She’d also clean and wash for me and my brothers—that, I never wanted her to do, but Rebecca was like a sister to me. When I told her no, she just waved me off; I did appreciate it.
Recently, she and Jordan finally had their prayers answered and found out they’re expecting. He immediately told her she wasn’t working, so we’d lost our cook and our clothes were starting to pile up, but I was happy for my brother and his wife. I couldn’t wait until my god child got here.
“Yeah man, she’s good. Still having morning sickness though. I got ginger ale and crackers everywhere, even the cars,” he said with a laugh.
“Yeah man. Hopefully she won’t have too many more days of that. So what’s up, Jordan?” He sighed heavily into the phone.
“Reggie got fired from Premier. He didn’t deliver the artist that he said he would. He’s been putting it out there that Damon gave you money to start your company, and alluded to the fact that Damon sells drugs.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I roared. His punk ass didn’t know where I got the money to start my business. All he knows about is me ghostwriting, producing for D-Loc, and throwing parties. He and nobody else knows nothing about how I started the business. This mother-fucker want to play games trying to come for me, but I got him.
“Aye, I’m going to holla at you in a minute.”
I call Jesse. “What’s up on the home front.” That was code for him to sweep my house and my uncles’ meeting spot for bugs or wire taps so we could speak freely. Jesse is the best of the best in IT. I met Jesse in college; he reminded me a lot of my little brother Derrick. He didn’t say much. When he said something, it made so much sense in the simplest terms. It’s like he and Derrick don’t make things complicated in their heads. Me, I’m always thinking; my mind is constantly running. Jesse seems like he just takes life for what it is, accepts it, and doesn’t try and make too many w
aves about it. I envy that about them.
When I started my company, I had to have Jesse on my team. I was so happy that he decided to just chill and do a little freelance work for the government, so he had time to dedicate to me. I hired him to install and maintain my company’s computers, business security, and home’s security.
“Everything’s good,” he replied. If there were bugs or wire taps, we’d engage in some lame ass conversation until he gave me the code letting me know we’re all clear.
I grabbed my burner phone. My uncle answered immediately.
“We need to meet,” I said, and he knew where. I didn’t know how far this thing had gone, and I didn’t want to say anything.
I can’t believe how much of a bitch Reggie is. He was supposed to be my brother. Me, him, and Jordan go way back, before the sand box. Our mommas used to be girls back in the day. They all ended up pregnant at the same time. This shit had me fucked up. Where and when did it all go wrong? He’s trying to interfere with my vision—my dream.
When I started my record company, I had the mentality that if I ate, my family was going to eat. Whatever I had, whatever I did, I put Reggie and Jordan on. Reggie was always a people person; he liked to talk. He was the slick talker; he could sell water in a rain storm. Reggie became lazy; he didn’t want to grow. In this business, you have to grow. You have to reinvent yourself. He didn’t want to do that. That slick talking could only take you so far. Once you’re in a room full of sharks, you have to learn something outside of talking shit. When he couldn’t handle the growth from us being a hood label to me trying to make it more into a corporate entity, he didn’t appreciate it—he wanted me to still carry him. He started feeling like I owed him. What I look like taking care of a grown ass man? I help those that want to help themselves. If he didn’t think enough of what he was trying to do, who was I to try and make him do otherwise? Shit, I was and am already raising my little brothers. I can’t and won’t go there with a grown ass man.
Reggie wanted me to sell the company to Premiere. He felt I owed him that. I mean, they offered us more money than any other independent acquisition had ever received. However, they wanted too much creative control. Plus, I wanted a guarantee that they wouldn’t do to me just what they did to Reggie. I’ve been building this business for ten years. I’ll be damned if I let someone come in and kick me out. I thought Reggie thought just as much of our business as I had. Reggie and I built this business from nothing. I remember when we didn’t even have real desks. We had our computers on card tables, sitting in those uncomfortable ass folding chairs for hours.
Now Reggie was salty because he stabbed me in my back and took a bold deal. Now he thinks he’s about the fuck me over. Surely his ass is using that booger sugar again.
I go and check on L’oriel. I’m actually relieved she’s still knocked out; I leave her a note telling her I’ll be back. Jordan is sitting in the kitchen when I come down.
“I don’t know what the fuck wrong with that nigga Reggie. You think that nigga still messing with that shit?” Jordan asks as I grab a bottled water from the refrigerator. I don’t even respond as we headed out. It didn’t matter to me if he was or wasn’t. He’d crossed the line. I wasn’t saving his ass this time. He’s shown me we aren’t family anymore, and I don’t give a fuck about a mother fucker that shows me he ain’t fucking with me like family.
I didn’t tell L’oriel the whole story about Reggie. Reggie only got off drugs because I forced him to. When he went through rehab, they suggested that he let go of those relationships that were not going to help him stay clean.
Mila was one of those relationships. Mila and Reggie had gotten pretty heavy into drugs and partying. When Reggie couldn’t provide Mila with drugs, she often participated in prostitution to maintain her habit. Mila’s beautiful, so she’s never lacking rich johns.
I’m not sure how much money Reggie has since he had a pretty bad coke habit. I didn’t think if he was sober he’d stoop to such desperate measures, or make the type of decisions he was making. He may not have known if my uncle had given me the money or not, but he definitely knew who my uncle was in the streets. He wasn’t just someone you mention at all. Besides, he knows me. He knows that I’m to blame for Cash spending the rest of his days being fed through a tube, as well as a few missing persons. He should know that between the two of us, he can’t win this.
Jordan followed me to make sure I wasn’t being followed. An hour later, we pull up to a house in the woods. This was my uncle’s house he used to cut dope in when he first started. We were off the grid out here. Even though you couldn’t get a cell phone signal out here, we still left our iPhones at the house. We turned off and removed the battery from our burners. There was no cable, internet—nothing. He even had it powered by solar panels that aren’t connected to a power grid. He had Jesse install a back-up battery system so he wouldn’t need the additional power when too much power was used. Since he didn’t actually live in the house, the times we’ve been here, I’ve never heard the batteries turn on. It was a small simple house. It was very similar to what my Grum-Grum would call a shot gun house. The outside had been maintained, and the siding was up to date. The inside was modernly updated as well. It wasn’t plush, but it was comfortable with new countertops, a white range, refrigerator, and washer and dryer. It had a small living room with nice leather furniture. Dame kept it so if he needed to crash or hide out, he’d be comfortable enough.
Jordan stayed outside; he didn’t really need to keep watch out here, but you never know. Besides, me and Dame hadn’t told anyone how the record company started; there was no need in confirming anything now.
“What’s up, nephew?” I look up to see Dame coming from the rear of the house pulling a beater over his head.
“What’s good with you? You didn’t come to Thanksgiving dinner,” I respond. When he approaches me, we clasp hands and hug, patting one another on the back.
“Ah. I tried to make it but got caught up. When I got back, you were already gone with your little beauty.” I smiled thinking about L’oriel. My uncle shook his head. “Man you are gone. You blushing and shit. You know that’s some light-skinned shit, right,” he said laughing.
“Man. Fuck out of here. I’m not blushing. I don’t blush. Fuck all that. I know you know about Reggie ass.” My uncle had been fucking with me about my complexion for as long as I could remember. My mother, he, and my aunt Kim were all like a cocoa brown; even though my brothers and I weren’t too much lighter, he always teased us.
“Yeah, I know about your boy. Didn’t I tell your ass a long time ago to get rid of that mother fucker? You can’t take everybody to the top.”
I nodded my head because he had pre-warned me a long time ago about Reggie. I really thought I’d cleaned up my circle.
“So, did you take care of everything on the books?” he asks, referring to me cleaning up his initial investment. I’d actually taken care of that a long time ago. Everything was legit now, and there was nothing that could trace back.
“You know I did.”
“Good. So why did you want to meet?” I gave him a look. He knows why I wanted to meet. I wanted to know if Reggie was dead already, if I’m going to be looked at as a suspect, or if I have to explain anything since he implicated my business being started with drug money. Besides, he’s the one with the connect to the FEDS. He’ll know if they’re going to check into his claims or not.
“What? You worried about that nigga?” he laughed. I looked at him affronted; he knows damn well I’m not worried about Reggie. If he hasn’t gotten him, I’m going to. I just want to do it in good time, when the heat is off and he’s comfortable. I know my uncle doesn’t care about all of that. He’ll do some messy shit so he can send a message; I’m stealthier and calculating.
“He’s still alive. That mother fucker went off the grid. He hasn’t used his cell phone or nothing. His momma and little brother packed up weeks ago and haven’t been heard from. Everybody he lo
ves is missing. You know that mother fucker know how I operate. So this is some planned and thought out shit.” I ran my hand down my face. Fucking Reggie. What’s his problem, man? I don’t understand what he’s trying to do.
“What about the alphabet boys?” I ask, referring to the FBI and IRS, wanting to know if they’re checking into my business.
“They checking into it. You know they gon’ always check into a claim like that. Especially since that’s how damn near every black independent turned corporate record company started. Long as your books good, we shouldn’t have a problem. I know you keep shit tight, so you’re good. We just gotta find your snitching ass friend. By the way, how’d he find out?” He raises a questioning brow at me.
“I don’t know, I never told him or anybody.” This really had me perplexed. I don’t know if Reggie just threw some shit out there to see how we’d react, or if he really overheard or saw something in the early days.
I mean, when we first started doing parties, we were young and wild. I wasn’t trying to save money. We were at the shopping mall all the time. I had every expensive flashy name brand item I could think of. I had a diamond grill, diamond chains, and iced out Rolex’s. We did all the typical shit young black boys that’s not used to nothing did. It wasn’t until I started doing more producing and ghostwriting that my uncle finally pulled me to the side. He told me I needed to save and find something to invest my money in. He asked me to sit down and put together a plan. I did, and my uncle believed in it and gave me the money to get started. He knew in his line of business that he couldn’t be a partner, but he funded a lot. My books say my money came from ghostwriting, producing, and parties; those are what affronted me the money to start the record company. Reggie found our first artist on the label, and the rest is history. Even though my uncle gave me the money to get started, I made sure to put every dime I made back into the business. The first few years, I didn’t spend money on anything but the business. I earned respect from my uncle and earned every damn thing I have now. I worked my ass off for it. I can’t believe Reggie’s corn bread ass is actually trying to end what I built.