Page 23 of Rich and Rotten

Shit, I hated that Natalie was even the one I sometimes dumped my emotional baggage on, but she was my person––the one who put her own wants and needs aside to be there for me. There wasn’t enough money in the world to pay her for what she had been to me.

“I wanted to come in and see her, but I didn’t want to wake her up. I know the rules and the schedule,” I said with a smirk, taking one last pull before putting out my blunt and flicking it out the window.

She squeezed my hand. “The rules don’t apply when it comes to you needing to see her. Trust me, I know that feeling, and I’m lucky to have her just down the hall from me.”

Nazani was four years old and my heart in this ruthless world. She was the good I needed when I was out here being anything but. If I wasn’t with my baby girl, I was thinking about her. When Natalie asked if I would go half on a baby with her, I didn’t have to think twice. If I couldn’t give her my heart, the least I could do was give her one to carry.

Parenting with Natalie was like a warm breeze on a beach––easy. The breeze understood its role and how to coexist peacefully with the beach because both knew their parts. We had agreed on this and wanted a child, so there were never any issues.

Natalie had a nigga she was messing with, but she refused to allow him to meet me or our daughter. If she wanted to continue dating Casper in private, I didn’t have a problem with it. Her love life wasn’t my business. As long as whoever he was treated both Natalie and my daughter right, he would never have to worry about any smoke from me.

Natalie had been around when I was just trying to get money and keep it. She never looked at me any differently, so when I started getting real money, I made sure she never had to ask for shit––that she and my daughter lived an easy life.

She wasn’t the type to sit around and let someone take care of her, though. Like me, she was used to getting it out the mud. It was Natalie who told me the only way this would work was if she had her own income, which she earned being a mommy influencer and blogger. I damn near had to twist her arm to get her to agree to buy the house in Greenwich Pointe. For me, it was less about providing for Natalie and more about providing for our daughter. I grew up in Brooklyn, in the hood––never experienced gated communities and private schools. My daughter would have all of that. I wanted her far removed from the city. The life I lived in the streets was ruthless, and I would never put my daughter in harm’s way. So, whenever I wanted to spend time with my baby girl, I always came to Greenwich.

My mother and sister lived in Belgrave Hills, which was only a fifteen-minute drive between cities, and keeping them safe was my top priority. I refused to ever have to bury them because of my actions. It was the one promise I made to myself when I decided to step fully into this life. I’ve always dabbled––made enough money to be comfortable and help my mother quit one of her three jobs––but this life was never supposed to define me. I never wanted to end up like my father.

When he was murdered, my mother fell into a deep depression, and I knew I had to step up. Still, I was never all the way in. Just long enough to make some bread, then I’d pull back out.

With Tatiana, I always knew she came from money, but when the pieces connected, it made sense––and it made me want to do more. The money I made was split between her and my family. My family came first, and agreeing to leave with Tatiana would’ve meant leaving them behind––and dragging her into a life she knew nothing about. That would have been unfair to her, so I left so she wouldn’t have to make the decision of picking me over her family.

The sound of the car door opening pulled me from my thoughts.

“Come inside. You look tired. She’ll be up in a few hours, and I know she will be excited to spend every second with you.”

“You got shit planned in the morning?”

“I do. I have a few meetings with this local coffee shop in town. The owner is a single mother, and I want to highlight her on the blog. A single Black mother,” she emphasized while lifting her brows.

I chuckled and killed the engine before climbing out of the car.

“Everything is Black in this town––the only wealthy area I actually feel safe and seen.”

“We’re the majority, and I love it here. Although I hate to admit that last part.”

We both paused, and she busted into a fit of giggles.

“Go ahead and tell me. Tell me I’m right, Natalie.”

“I refuse.”

“Nah, ‘cause you fought me tooth and nail about moving here.”

She continued to laugh. “Your mom and sister only being fifteen minutes down the road helps a lot, too. Zareena actually called me the other day. She wanted to take Zani to get some ice cream.”

“Oh yeah? She never answers that damn phone when I call,” I said, raising my eyebrow as I followed behind Natalie.

My tall frame swallowed her 5’3” figure. Natalie, petite and curvy, often got annoyed about always being the short person. It was a known rule never to mention her height. It was the reason she always wore heels––if she wasn’t, she would complain about feeling naked without them.

As soon as I crossed the threshold, the scent of eucalyptus and jasmine consumed me, making me relax my jaw and shoulders. Natalie was into all that wellness bullshit, and even though I called it bullshit, the shit worked.

“Breathe in, and I’ll make us some tea, because clearly you got something on your mind,” she said before turning and walking off toward the kitchen, leaving me in the foyer.

I kicked off my sneakers and headed in the opposite direction to the sunken living room with a huge sectional that always drew me in. I don’t know how many nights I ended up in Natalie’s driveway, and she always welcomed me in. The couch was my spot, and it’s where my daughter would find me when she woke up.

After pulling my shirt over my head, I flopped onto the couch with my feet up on the chaise. I closed my eyes, and images of that little girl flooded my mind.

Zira.