Page 50 of Mahogany 2
Didn’t like to curse in front of my elders but today I didn’t give a fuck. Ms. Rochelle was pulling a quick one over on me and I didn’t know how I was going to maneuver around it. I needed her to know why I couldn’t juggle it. Needed her to work with me.
“Oh my God. Lord, what did my baby get herself into,” Ms. Rochelle mumbled. “You married?”
“Married with four kids and?—”
“Five,” Aaron interrupted.
I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. “Four with my wife, nigga. You know what the hell I mean. I’m not denying Diary. Trying to be in her life the best way I can. But it’s been rough juggling all of this?—”
“Rough for me too. You want me to have sympathy for you? More sympathy than I already have? Son I’ve extended you grace ‘cause I knew something had to be up but I’m at a crossroad now. I can’t,” Ms. Rochelle shook her head. “I can’t do it no more. I’m sorry Erika kept this secret from you and I’m sorry she ain’t give you an opportunity to have a say so in Diary’s life but listen… my grandbaby here. Ain’t got no momma… She need her daddy and?—”
“This shit ruining my life, bro,” I mumbled. With a laugh I said, “If I knew E was pregnant baby girl wouldn’t even be here. And I mean that with the most respect. Erika knew what the fuck she was doin.”
I stood up, ready to leave but before I could walk off, Ms. Rochelle placed her hand on my chest. “Please, Duke. Please… have a seat for me. Let’s—let’s figure this out. Justin said he’d help as much?—.
“Man, I’m good. Ain’t helping this nigga,” Justin said. “I’ll see Diary on the weekends when you have her. Let the family man figure it out.”
“So, you gon’ take yo anger with this nigga out on a kid you helped take care of for two years? You know she love you nigga,” Aaron said.
“Bro… I’m just sayin,” Justin mumbled.
It was a lot going on. Too much going on. I was on the verge of smacking a nigga, on God. But who I wanted to smack more than anybody was myself. Erika too. Wanted to choke the bitch up but what could I do with that? Nothing. It was my dick that got me into this shit. Couldn’t even really be mad at shorty, for real. But I could though. I really fucking could because like I said, had I known about the pregnancy, I would have had it terminated pronto. No questions asked, not a single fuck given. Might’ve been fucked up to say, considering my seed was literally sleeping in the next room. But I didn’t give a fuck. How in the fuck was I supposed to juggle this shit, bro? How Ms. Rochelle just gone drop a bomb like this on me?
I looked up and shook my head.
Nigga wasn’t giving me a break. Refused to let up off me, didn’t He?
I swallowed and stuffed my hands into my pockets. “Look Ms. Rochelle?—”
“I know. I know it’s a lot. I understand, baby. I promise I do. I’m not talking about tomorrow. I’m not even talking about this week. But next week… next week some things gotta change, son. We gon’ sit her down and tell her you’re her father and we gon’ go from there.”
I nodded, told her I understood and left to head to the card game I told Mahogany I was going to. But first, I was stopping at the liquor store. I needed a bigger bottle.
12
CRESCENT
I enjoyedwhat I did for a living. But was I passionate about it? Absolutely not. The only thing I was passionate about was making money. Nothing in between. I wasn’t one of those people who had a love for something. I didn’t care for sports growing up for real. Didn’t want to be a doctor. Didn’t give a fuck about policemen or firefighters. None of that shit. I just wanted to make money. I was sure my pops and uncles played a role in that. Between them, that was all I always seen—money. Big piles of it too. So, whenever anybody asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said rich.
However, these days, you’d think a nigga was really passionate about investments. I mean, yeah I was passionate about The House of Nova Ray. I wanted it to be perfect. But I found myself actuallyexcitedabout work on some days. It wasn’t the project I was excited about. I didn’t like the idea of designing a hotel for my deceased daughter. It was honestly heartbreaking.
My excitement had absolutely nothing to do with the work but who I was workingwith. Mahogany. Working with her had suddenly become the highlight of my week. A nigga actually got dressed this morning with a smile. A fuckin’ smile. You knowhow crazy that felt? To be excited about something. I didn’t get excited. I got to the money and that was about it. But Mahogany? Mahogany made me excited. Listening to her talk about colors, furniture, blueprints, and shit like that fascinated me. Not because I wanted to learn but because she was beautiful. Not just physically—mentally. It wasn’t just that neither… there was something striking about her. The magnetism I felt whenever I was in her presence had become rather… addictive. I loved the scent of her perfume. Loved the sound of her voice, and the way she nervously laughed. Loved the way she loved design. Couldn’t get enough of the way she looked away any time I caught her staring. Mahogany was shy and that shit drove me crazy, too.
Today for example. She hadn’t locked eyes with me for more than five seconds once. Every look was fleeting. And it was crazy because I thought we were past that. We’d been working together for damn near a month, and she was still as shy as she was the first day we worked together, at brunch, needing a drink.
“You said it was how long before construction on The House of Nova Ray was finished?” she asked, glancing up at me from her iPad.
My eyes traveled from hers to her lips before I looked back up at her face. “Three months,” I told her.
I watched as she swallowed before she went back to tapping around on that iPad. “Right.” She tapped her Apple pencil against her chin. “Did you look over the details I sent last night?”
“Didn’t get a chance to.”
She looked over at me, sighed, shook her head, and went back to working on her iPad.
We were close. Dangerously close. Damn near close enough for me to count her eyelashes. But I wanted to be closer. I wanted her skin on mine. I wasn’t doing too good. Keeping it professional. I’d done horribly. I couldn’t help my attraction to her. Thought I could, but I couldn’t. Every day I thought abouther. Beat my dick damn near every night at the thought of her. Did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that I was attracted to her neither. I was respectful though. Hadn’t touched her as badly as I wanted to. Fought back against the urge to kiss her. Stopped calling her Ms. Mills too. These days she was Mo. I liked Mo better. Ms. Mills was a constant reminder of who she actually was. Someone else’s.
“Here you go again. You never come prepared.”
