She turns to me to finish her tirade. “She was the only mother you’ve ever known. She treated you well, although my father brought you to her as nothing more than an orphan of a former colleague. You ate at her table, spent family holidays with her.” Tara exhales in disgust. “And my father. He took you under his wing even though we all knew you were trapped in that street mentality. My father risked his professional, law enforcement career and reputation to take you in and provide you with some semblance of family.
“He’s given you the money from my grandfather’s will to use as capital for your business. You were only twenty-five years old—a kid! And look at you now, Mr. Multi-Millionaire.” She uses air quotations. “Yeah, I read that fluffed piece in Vibe. Cute. Too bad it was greatly fabricated. What would have been fact is you telling them that before you were even old enough to drink, my father made sure you had a roof over your head and food to eat…”
Tara pauses, overcome with grief and under false pretenses. She has no idea that Big D has never put a roof over my head. I hustled to earn the pennies I garnered in my early years of slinging to pay my rent. She has no idea that when D would drop by my crib on their way to dinner at a four star restaurant, that I would be covertly passing him off his cut. He’s been able to keep the essence of our relationship from Tara and her mother. I was able to do the same once Tara and I began to see each other. And him giving me startup money was just a ploy just in case it was ever questioned where we’d both got our start from. Big D was never bestowed money from his father. He paid a lawyer to manufacture a spotty and antiquated money trail. D ain’t never give me shit; only a world of opportunities.
“He saw you to being a man,” she continues. “He let you take his daughter from him to date. My father trusted you with everything—look at what you’re doing here today! You’re giving me money he’s only entrusted you with! This is evidence of his commitment to your relationship. And now, because we’ve hit a few hard bumps in the road, you up and pass us off like a business transaction? As if we didn’t give you the privilege of entering our circle. Like we’ve given you no loyalty.”
Tara brushes frustration from her face, her emotional control quickly abating. As I sit back cupping my chin, giving her time, she arches her neck so that her face is toward the ceiling. I can tell that her father’s arrest has taken its toll on her. After some time, her glower goes to Rayna, who watches her closely.
“And what’s she doing here? What’s the purpose of her having to be in the same room when we talk? Do we not have history, Azmir? The type of history that we could speak about family matters alone? Has it come to this? Has she brainwashed you?” Tara’s wild eyes settle on me, summonsing answers. Answers that would never come. “Azmir, do you not have an ounce of loyalty?
I don’t move from my position across from her, but can see Rayna’s face contorting in frustration. She starts shifting in her seat, attempting to stifle an outburst. I didn’t invite her in here for that, and I’ve also had enough with Tara and her petulance. I decide to reel this conversation back in.
“Has he made you aware of his charges?”
Tara’s eyes, enlarge again, shooting up to meet my gaze. “N-no…well, I’ve heard talks of—”
“First degree murder. Do you know who the victim is?”
Tara narrows her eyes and bites out, “No.”
“My father.”
Tara’s almond skin pales, in total shock. “Your…your father? This can’t be true. My father isn’t a murderer—you know this, Azmir!”
“I know the evidence against him is stacked high. I know that your father has done nothing but manipulate me over the years. I know that by him allowing me to fuck you all those years, he was ensuring a future for you, not letting me into this mystical circle of trust that you have flights of fancy of. He’s always had ulterior motives, Tara.”
I fight to remain calm. In a flash, I think about Big D visiting Rayna, scaring the shit out of her with lies and propaganda.
“Seems you’re not the only Harrison with an issue of loyalty. You’ve no idea of the offenses of your father. I do, and yet I’m here, carrying out wishes he made when our relationship was still intact. Implementing the plan that was created when I believed…I was his…son.” Tara sits stiff in her seat; I’m sure, trying to process my words. “The money will be made available to you by five p.m. tomorrow. Have a wonderful life.”