“Go inside, Paris, before your stupid ass catches pneumonia.”
“Gage, please, don’t do this,” she cried, doing her best to pull my arm while holding the sheets to her body. Her attempt failed when her foot slid in the snow and she busted her ass on the cold ground.
I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.
“Fine!” she shouted. “Go! But send for me as soon as you get home!” she ordered as she got off the ground.
I sat in the back seat, fastened my seatbelt, and looked at her as I grabbed the door.
“Tell that normal nigga to get you home.”
My words landed, and her pride broke. Survival instincts clicked in, and she pivoted—bargaining with the same man she just disrespected.
“Can I at least come with my things when you send for yours? Surely you aren’t leaving your stuff here?” she asked.
“I don’t need any of that shit,” I said. “Give it to your new man—along with the condoms you poked all them holes in.”
She went still. Her gig was up, and she looked as though she had just shit herself.
“W-what?” she stammered.
“Yeah, little trifling ass. I went to the bathroom and saw the condom still in the shower the night after. As I picked it up to discard it, water began pouring out of it on multiple sides. Still giving you the benefit of the doubt, I retrieved the rest of the condoms and filled another with water—and to my surprise, the same shit happened. It wasn’t until the third one that I just came content with the conclusion that you ain’t shit, Paris.”
The driver, who had been standing there quietly witnessing this fiasco, gave me a nod signaling that it was time to go. I returned the nod and slammed the door in Paris’s face as the driver took his place and smoothly pulled off.
She stood there in the snow looking stupid, but as the car eased forward, her figure shrank in the rear glass until all I was able to see were trees.
About ten minutes into the ride to the FBO to board the jet, my driver—who not only witnessed the shit show that is Paris—felt the tension in the car and saw the stress on my face.
“Whatever it is that has you moving this time of night will work out in your favor, Mr. Blaque,” he said as he peered at me through the rearview mirror.
“How could you be so sure?” I asked.
“Well, I’m an old man, son. And if it’s one thing life’s taught me, it’s… it will go on. And only you can determine how you live during its continuation. Always remember—it’s God’s will, never ours. Just ask Him to prepare you and order your steps,” he continued.
I chuckled. “I wish that made me feel better, but it doesn’t.”
He laughed.
For the rest of the ride, he kept me calm with small, random conversations, giving me just enough space to catch my bearings between each one. What should’ve felt like an hour-long ride passed in what felt like fifteen minutes, thanks to the comfort his presence and words provided. I was grateful.
Once we arrived at the jet, I shook the driver’s hand and handed him $300 in cash during the transaction. He nodded and wished me luck.
“Appreciate you,” I said. “Got a little girl on the way. Apparently, she doesn’t know how to be patient.”
He grinned. “They never do.”
Inside the cabin, it was nice and warm. I buckled in, laid my phone in my lap, and stared down the aisle, praying that takeoff was soon. Shockingly, there was a flight attendant on board. Typically, late-night private flights would consist only of the pilot and the passengers. She brought me a blanket, offered me the option of hot tea or coffee, and turned on some rain sounds.
“I heard congratulations are in order,” she smiled.
Her name tag readTrish, a middle-aged, petite Black woman with curvy hips and a smile full of wisdom. She smelled of lavender and rosemary and carried a sense of peace with her.
“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you for accompanying me on such short notice.”
“Well, handsome, my husband and I are a tag team. You get the pilot… You get his wife,” she smiled as she covered me withthe plush blanket. “I’ll be back with your tea. Focus on resting—the flight is only about two hours. You should take advantage, because once your little bundle of joy gets here, sleep will be a distant memory.”
“Any advice for a first-time dad?” I asked.
