“Yo, man, I wanted to chop it up with you a minute about your disposition as of late. What the hell is up with you? When I saw you against the Lakers, you weren’t yourself then either.”
I exhale. A.D. has always been good people…a level headed dude. We’ve confided in each other a few times over the years, although we don’t kick it every day. He’s been a great resource over the past ten years since I’ve started wising up and investing more prudently. In a specific pocket of the African American industry, Azmir Jacobs is the man to consult when you want to diversify your financial portfolio. He’s pulled me in on a few of his deals and even recommended others he didn’t have his hands in. He’s always been a trustworthy and reputedly respectful dude.
Ironically, I’ve been told over the past few months that my disposition has been off. I also realize I’ve been so fucking bottled since the shit went down with Zoey last month at her parents’ home in South Carolina.
I thought there was a wedge between us before, Zoey has put up all guards since. I’ve not seen her since the night she realized my seven-year-old transgression. The pain in her eyes made me nauseous. I had been wanting to tell her since the top of the year, the escalating guilt gripping at the neck. That and the fact that I’ve been ready to be with her. To finally make us official. It took Zoey some time to move on and pursue life without the expectation of me being her partner, all because I didn’t want to stifle her.
Shit. What a plan that was. She’s been doing far more than flourishing. Zoey resumed her undergraduate career, started a small business while in graduate school and finished without flinching. Her cupcake business has expanded by leaps and bounds. She’s been a superb mother, pushing JR to learning levels above his grade, and engaging him in every American sport, even has exposed him to art. She’s been fucking Superwoman, one with a brilliant mind and sexy ass frame.
Zoey has more than bounced back over the past seven years since becoming pregnant. She’s soared. And without me. I never planned to be so distant from her over these years. That was the point of Jordan. I wanted in on her anticipated success. I just didn’t want to be the cause of it derailing because of her prematurely choosing me, which included my demanding career and celebrity. Outside of having my incredible kid that I wouldn’t change for all of my fortune, I failed, epically.
“Is it your personal life? Have you been dating? How’s Jordan?” Azmir broke my rumination with his string of questions.
Everyone knows Jordan. I’ve gradually exposed him to my world over the years. It hasn’t been excessive because his mother stays under the radar, even with her wealthy and sometimes famous clientele. However, my son is with me so often, it’s been impossible for the world not to know him.
I pinch my brows. “Something like that. I haven’t been dating. Even when I was dating, since JR has been born, I haven’t been…involved with anyone.”
Immediately, I recognize the revelation that forms in his mind. It’s all in Azmir’s eyes.
He cocks his head to the side. “It’s his mother?”
I don’t answer—or should I say, I don’t confirm his spot on assessment. I’ve never been comfortable discussing my affairs with Zoey, likely because of the twisted shit I did to her years ago in the Caymans.
“Do it,” he utters vehemently.
What?
With a peaked brow and dubious glare, I ask, “Do what?”
“You know what the hell I mean. Marry Elizabeth.” Then my forehead wrinkles and I feel my shoulders broaden. “Don’t flex, G. I know everybody connected to my money the way you are. Did you forget we have the same attorney? Chesney asked me about a small investment for her bakeries when she kicked it off.”