Page 3 of This is Law

My mom loved Law. She’s known him since he was eight years old. We moved right next door to him when I was six. Before we became lovers, he was my friend. My best friend at that. He would come over my house, and we would be out in the backyard playing in the mud together, getting in the pool, and just everything that kids our age would do. At eight years old, his little ass had game out of this world. He would always bring me stuff over to the house, whether it be candy, food, or toys that he knew I would like. We were kids, and he would tell me that he was in love with me, and at the time, I thought that all boys were gross, but for him, I’d made an exemption and just decided to make him my best friend. By the time I was eleven though, I felt like my innocence was leaving my body because I started looking at him in ways that were different than him just being my best friend. I started having one on one conversations with my sister, and my friends, telling them that I thought Law was cute. By the time I turned twelve, he had become my boyfriend. Don’t judge me when I say this next part, but I lost my virginity to him when I was only thirteen years old. Here I was, a 36-year-old woman, and that has been the only dick to ever slide inside of me, even though I would get mad at him, and get inmy feelings, threatening him that I was going to go out, and fuck other niggas, but I’ve never done it before.

Because of the history that him and I shared, it caused him to have a great relationship with my mom, and my sister. They both loved Law. You couldn’t tell my mom that Law wasn’t her son. Almost a year ago, when I came to her, telling her that I didn’t want the marriage anymore, for the life of her, she couldn’t understand it, but she knew the pain that the marriage was causing me after the death of our daughter, so she understood, and she supported my decision.

“I guess he’s going to be here soon because when we were leaving court, he kept asking me if I was going to go home,” I explained, as I flopped down on my bed, lying on my back, and I gazed up at the mirror that was on the ceiling. We’d had this mirror placed in the ceiling probably five years ago. When we were married, and on good terms, Law and I could fuck the sheets off the bed, and we were both beautiful people to look at, and really loved to see everything that we were doing while we were fuckin, so it was him that suggested we add mirrors to the ceiling, and I’d just gone along with it.

“You want me to come over there while he’s there? Law knows not to play that shit while I’m around,” Shai threatened, and I laughed. My sister didn’t give a damn, and she would insert herself in the middle of my marriage any chance that she could. It wasn’t to the point that it was overbearing, and Law had to check her about it over the years because it hadn’t gotten that extreme. She was just one person that didn’t play about me, and she would make it known any chance that she could.

Growing up as twins, we were overprotective of each other. If one fought, we both fought. I cannot tell you the amount of fights that I’ve been in with Shai. We’ve been beating bitches ass since we were in the kindergarten. It was our mouth that the girlscouldn’t handle, but Shai’s ass was worse. Sometimes, it felt like she would go around, just looking for problems.

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” I let her know.

“Okay. Ima come over later. You going to cook, or you want me to bring dinner? You know what? You had a long morning. Don’t worry about cooking. I can pick up food. What you want?” she asked me, and I could tell that she knew I was down, and her suggesting to bring dinner was just her way of trying to cheer me up.

“Whatever you bring is fine. I trust your judgement,” I let her know.

We talked for a little while longer, and then we eventually hung up. I tossed the phone down on the bed, and I grabbed one of the throw pillows that was at the head of the bed, turned my body on my side, and rested my head on the pillow. So many things started running through my mind right now. I started thinking back to the very beginning. Around the time that I was five years old. Specifically, the time that our front door was kicked in, in the middle of the night, where damn near twenty officers/ICEswarmed our apartment, and I just remember standing in the middle of the hallway, watching my dad be tackled down to the ground, with hand cuffs placed on him.

At the time, I was just a little girl, who didn’t have any understanding as to what all of this meant. I just knew that our dad was taken away from us, and they’d sent him somewhere that was far away. That was my child version of the story. The adult version is that my father was here illegally, and that he had been heavily into credit card fraud. Because it was his first offense, the fraud that he’d done wasn’t some crazy amount in the hundreds of thousands, and he’d cooperated, owning up to the shit that he’d done, and he’d took a plea, so he was only given three years. At a young age, I thought that my dad would just have to serve his three years, and he would come back homewith us, but they hit his ass with what’s called a ‘permanent bar’, meaning he would never be able to legally enter the U.S again. My sister and I were daddy’s girls, so when he left us, that crushed me, and Shai. I mean, crushed us to our core, and that explained why our kindergarten year, we were always getting into trouble, fighting, and shit.

Because of the extent of the crime, and because my mom was working in corrections when it happened, she almost lost her job behind that. She fought to keep her job, convincing the higher ups that she didn’t have any criminal involvement in the things that my dad was doing, and she didn’t know that he had been here illegally. If you see my dad in person, and you look at that handsome face, that gorgeous smile, those deep dimples, and his kind eyes, I could see how he had been able to convince my mom and sell her a story about being born here in the U.S, knowing that he’d come here illegally. According to my mom, she’s always known that my dad was making money. She did know about the credit card fraud, but again, she didn’t have any involvement in it. I guess her only involvement would have been reaping the benefits like the shopping sprees, and the way he would spoil her rotten. It crushed her as well once my dad was deported. My mom loved my daddy down, okay! That was her man. Once he was released from prison, we would take trips to the D.R to visit him, along with our other family that we had out that way. Those trips stopped by the time me and my sister were in the 5thgrade. Somehow, my mom found out about the bitch that he had out there, and she stopped messing with my dad on that kind of level, and in return, she stopped the trips that we would take out there. We still talked to him over the phone every day, and two years ago was the last time that I’d gone out there to see him. I’d gone with Law, and our boys.

So yeah, after the madness with my dad getting deported, and once everything was set and stone with my mom’s job, that’swhen a year later, she’d bought a house, and it was the house that was right next door to Law, and Dutch, who’d raised Law. My mom put me, and Shai through private school, and Law went to private school with me as well. I was so in love with that man, that I wanted to follow him wherever he went. Because Law was two years older than me, he went off to college first. His ass was sprung when it came to me as well, so he didn’t leave Miami. He stayed right here and attended college atFIU.After I finished high school, I went and attendedFIUas well. I majored in public relations, with a minor in marketing. I was chasing a goal, wanting a career in PR and crisis management. I knew that the goal was to one day have my own business, where I would represent high profile clients, such as big-time celebrities, athletes, and whoever would be of importance. Law used to always tell me that my degree could be for decoration because he wanted to be a high-profile attorney in Miami, and take care of me, but I watched my mom hustle, so I wanted to hustle as well, and make my own bag.

After Law graduated fromFIU,he went on to law school atThe University of Miami.People saw Law outside of the courtroom, and they judged him because he was a black man, that would talk with slang, and he did hang around a lot of criminals, so they assumed that he was a criminal as well, but Law was easily the smartest man that I had ever met in my life. He didn’t take any shortcuts to get to where he was at. He worked his ass off. Over the years, he’s worked at different firms, where he’s made his mark in the law industry, and five years ago, he decided that he wanted to open his own firm, which was calledCrawford Law Group,and even with the downfall of our marriage, I can still proudly say that Law has one of the biggest, successful firms in Miami. I want to rake his eyes out just about every other day, but I was proud of him, and his success.

As for me, I was on my shit too. Call me the ‘fixer upper’ in Miami when it came to scandals. My businessHouse of Soraya strategieswas here to clean up the mess of my clients. Basically, to sum up what I do, clients that I have, who find themselves fucking up in the public eye, whether it be some old racists tweets that came out before they were popping, a high-profile male getting caught cheating on his wife, or just any kinds of scandals that doesn’t look good for their image, I come in to clear it up and fix the narrative.

With the careers that Law and I were both in, over the years, we’ve had to work hand in hand with each other. Sometimes, we’ve shared clients. While I would have to clean up that clients public mess, Law would clean it up legally. It’s like when it came to business, him and I could fix that, but when it came to us, that’s where things went wrong.

As I was lying here, thinking about the events from the past, my phone started buzzing on the bed. I picked my phone up, looking down, seeing that it was the security at the gate house calling me. I answered, and they were letting me know that the tow truck was here to pick up Law’s cars, and that Law was right behind the truck. The security was asking me if it was okay to let them in, and I assured him that it was.

I hung the phone up, and sighed, praying that me and Law didn’t have to get into it. These days, it seemed like every time that we would get around each other, we couldn’t seem to get along. I understood that emotions are running high, and we had to accept our new norms, but the shit was annoying as hell.

I sat up on the bed and pulled myself up to my feet. My house shoes were sitting right by the bed, so I slipped inside of them. I was still in my suit that I wore to court this morning, but I removed the jacket, leaving me in the silk blouse, that was tucked into the slacks.

I groaned, hoping that this would be a quick process, and I didn’t have to get into it with this man.

I walked out of the massive master bedroom and walked the long hallway that led to the circular, winding staircase. As I was going down the stairs, the doorbell rang. I’m sure that it was Law ringing the doorbell, wanting the keys to his vehicles. I still had all the keys to his cars hanging up on the key holder.

I went ahead, and I walked over to the large, double doors, unlocked it, and I swung the door open, and sure enough, it was him standing there, sporting that permanent mug on his face. Law was naturally mean as hell. His ass didn’t have to try to go out of his way to be mean because that was a trait that he just possessed. If he didn’t know you, you didn’t get to see that fun, playful side that he had. He was the kind of man that was always serious, and about his business. Back when we were together, I would always have to get on him, telling him that there were days when I wanted him to be soft with me. Because he was a lawyer, he felt the need to always be in in the kind of mode where he was sharp, calculated, always two steps ahead of me, and at times, his words could come out like weapons. I loved this man though. Despite our divorce, I still loved him. I knew that I would always love him. We shared way too much history with each other for me to ever stop loving him. Our kids will keep us bounded, even though we aren’t married anymore.

“Move the G- wagon out the way. It’s blocking my truck,” was the first thing that he said when the door opened. Granted, I didn’t expect him to hit me with a ‘what’s up’ or ask me how I was doing, but I just hated that this had to be us. I knew that I said I still loved him, but to be honest, I didn’t think Law still loved me these days. There was no emotion behind his words. It was distant. Dull. Something that was hard to explain.

“I have the keys right here. Can you just move it for me?” I asked him, walking away for a second, so that I could walk rightover to where the key rack was, and grab the keys for my G- wagon. I was so petty that I haven’t drove that car in months. Law gifted me with that car like three years ago, and because these days the only feeling that I would feel towards him was anger, I didn’t want to push anything that he’d purchased for me.

“I just told you back at the courthouse that I’m not going out of my anymore to appease you, bruh. Move your own shit!” he snapped on me.

“Moving my car out of the way is appeasing me? You the one that needs the fuckin car moved. Not me!” I paused from walking out of the door because if he kept talking crazy, I wasn’t going to move shit.

“It don’t make me no difference. I bought that shit. I’ll have them load that motha fucka up on that flatbed, and take it with me,” he spat, as if that was supposed to hurt my feelings.

“Then do that! I don’t give a fuck! I haven’t drove that car in months! Take it, and I’ll have a new one pulling in the driveway tomorrow. I don’t want shit that your ass got me, so yeah, tell them to take it too!” just that fast, he’d pissed me off. I hated for someone to buy something for me and then gloat in my face about how they bought it and attempt to be an Indian giver with it.

“Man, you already got the keys in your hands. Go move the shit out the way, so they can get my truck out,” he wasn’t fazed by the shit that I was saying. Pissed, and not wanting the truck anymore, I marched my ass out of the house, and I walked over to the men that were outside. It was three of them, and they were talking amongst each other, pointing at Law’s cars, trying to see which ones they were going to move first.

“You can take the G- wagon too!” I let them know.

“Ay, I’m the one that called ya’ll, and made the booking. Only take the six cars that I told ya’ll about. Don’t listen to shit thatshe talking about!” Law was standing on the side of me, and there were veins that were popping out of the side of his neck, letting me know that he was pissed.

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