Page 6 of Rich Forever: Zo & Remy

I had been in New York City for about a week. By the time that I had made it here, my father had secured yet another ridiculous mansion with a full Tiki Bar out back that he swore on a stack of phone books was given to him by the elites for the acceptance of the union.

“Remy, you don’t need to look like that. Jaxon is a good guy. I’ve heard nothing but good things about him. Hopefully you all really hit it off,” he said as he pulled me into a hug that I didn’t reciprocate.

“I’m just ready to get this over with,” I mumbled.

When I left my father’s house, I was mad at him. Even if this wasn’t his idea, it was a direct result of his mistakes. But after I had a meeting with the elites yesterday, and they told me the same things that he had said, my anger shifted from one reason to another. Because he had left out a single detail that he knew would change the game for me. Jaxon was engaged to be married. It was a sad situation, and all I could do was imagine how his fiancée was feeling. The same thing happened to me, and I hated my position. I would never want to be the reason another woman felt all the things I had felt.

All of this was wrong, but this is the life we lived. I was born into it, I should have been used to it by now, but it never got any easier. We were bound by blood oaths and mandates that were hardly ever fair or moral, but we couldn’t change them.

“I think they’re here. I’ll bring them into the backyard, and you can come downstairs when you’re ready. Okay?” He asked as he pulled away from me and checked the time on his watch. I blew out a deep breath and nodded.

I paced the floor nervously and got myself together because there was no turning back now. Although I didn’t want to, I was going to make the best of the meeting, and if it went well, then great.

I went over to the window and saw them all filing into the backyard. A super tall guy walked to the tiki bar and took a seat. I moved away from the window before he could face my direction because I didn’t want him to see me staring down at him like a creep. Then I took a couple of deep breaths, walked down the stairs, and went outside. Inside, I groaned, because the two guys standing there were both handsome. But that didn’t help to make me feel any better at all.

I walked over to my father first, who told me which was Jaxon. Then I spoke to the person he referred to as Trouble, but he didn’t respond. Just the dead stare in his eyes told me he wasnot the guy to be messed with. It’s not often I get chills from a person, but with Trouble, I did.

I sat down and nervously pushed my hair behind my ear. I tried to make small talk with Jaxon, but he wasn’t really into it. I was sympathetic to him because after the elites revealed he was engaged, my father finally admitted to me how hard he had fought to be with his fiancée. I think it’s beautiful, something straight out of a love story.

It was only after I brought up his fiancée that I saw him soften. His face was noticeably different. The hard scowl across his brows had disappeared, and the mug he was sporting evaporated. It made the pit of my stomach turn. At just the mention of that woman, he was a different person.That’slove.That’ssomething I don’t want to come between. Not this contract power, they were always trying to cook up.

We exchanged a brief conversation, and he told me that he appreciated me before we parted ways, and I walked back into the house. I passed by Trouble and said, “Goodbye.” Again, he didn’t speak, just waited for Jaxon, and they walked back outside like they couldn’t leave fast enough.

Once I was back inside, I released the breath I had been holding since I sat at the table. After meeting him, I could finally breathe. I would like to think that I was a good judge of character. My spirit was so calmed by Jaxon, and not in a romantic way. There was something about him that immediately told me he was a genuine person. The elites had talked about him like he was dipped in gold. They spoke about him with a sense of pride that caught my attention. Within two minutes of being in his presence, I could understand why.

That same loyalty he had to the organization that they raved about? He had that for his girl, and for me, that was more honorable than anything he’s done or could ever do for the Mafia.

I walked to the front of the house to look out the window and see if they had gone, but just outside the mansion, what caught my eye made my entire body tense up yet again. Their security was standing outside waiting for them as they walked back through the large yard to the front area. The security guy was beautiful if I could use that word to describe a man. He was tall, had a slender yet muscular build, and locs that fell past his shoulders. He was fine as hell. His expression, like he was waiting for food delivery, was a complete contrast to the rifle over his shoulder that was meant to send a warning. His gaze scanned the perimeter, and, as if he felt the weight of my stare, he met mine. We locked eyes through the glass, and it was literally like time stood still.

Neither one of us turned from the other until he looked toward Jaxon and Trouble walking toward him and nodded before he went back into the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel.

I fanned myself; something about him intrigued me. I turned around with lust written all over my face and bumped right into my father, who looked down at me with a sneaky smirk. I shook my head as I rounded him and went down the hallway. He must have assumed that he caught me watching Jaxon, but he had no clue that I wanted to find the shooter.

The tension that I had felt earlier was gone, and my body finally relaxed. I hummed a tune as I walked back toward the room to find something from one of the boxes to wear for the family dinner that we had scheduled tonight. I didn’t even want to unpack because the elites made it clear that Jaxon and I would be moving in together tomorrow.

I pulled out the first dress I could find from the box labeled “dresses.” Then I went over to the closet and grabbed the steamer as I kept singing to myself. Maybe being in the Jennings house wasn’t going to be that bad after all.

Zohan "Zo" Richardson

7years prior

Pulling back through the gates of the Cross estate had a nigga on edge. I had my AR on my lap and a Glock tucked into my waistband, but the uneasiness I was feeling wasn’t because I thought that there would be issues from Cross and his Mafia. It was because I wanted to know who Shorty from yesterday in the window was. I had seen some fine ass women in my life, but none of them compared to Shorty standing in the window with those innocent ass eyes, and thick hips staring back at me. Even when I noticed her looking, she ain’t even attempt to act like she wasn’t looking at a nigga, just gave me this cool ass look that made my dick jump.

When Jax asked me to come with him to help him pack up the house today for his arrangement, I was all in. I didn’t ask him, but I was hoping that Shorty wasn’t the one he was about to marry. I had planned to see what was up with her if she was here, but if she was the woman he kept referring to as Remy, then I had no choice but to chill on that.

Jaxon was my nigga, had been since we were teenagers, so I could never cross him. I’ve known him for over a decade; we met when I was a teenager and moved to the States from Barbados.

I was born and raised there until I was thirteen. I was a wild kid and gave my parents hell. My parents, Anika and Troy, are government officials. My father has been Prime Minister for over twenty years, and my mother is Minister of Foreign Affairs. My brother Xion, who still lives there, is Chief of Police.

We grew up in the suburbs of St. James and had access to the best things money could offer. Pops had one of the first Rolls Royces that he still owns to this day. We took family trips all over the Caribbean. I had everything you could ever imagine wanting at my disposal, still, somehow found myself in the hood every other day having to fight muhfuckas.

I didn’t understand it back then, but now that I look back, I was always in some shit because the people around me couldn’t relate to me. I was chilling in a city where niggas had to break into stores at night just to survive or steal a crate of food off the truck while the drivers unloaded. Then there was me, riding my two-thousand-dollar Christmas gift to the trenches. I was well off; to them, I was flaunting it in their faces, but to me, I was just being me. The hood was where I was comfortable, and no nigga could check me about that.

I had always been quiet by nature, so niggas around the way thought that it meant they could try me. I was still tall, but back then, I was skinny. Looking weak and being quiet in a town that didn’t want you there was like walking around with a target on your back. But after I knocked out the first nigga, fighting became a sport to me. I didn’t start any of the fights, but I wasn’t backing down from one either. It would actually make my day when a nigga approached me with an issue. Eventually, niggas stopped trying me when I would come by, and before I knew it, I had gotten the respect from the OG’s twice my age.

That all changed when this one kid wanted to fight me, and I knocked him out. Nigga fell out and started having a seizure. The police detained me before I could make it back home, and had my parents come pick me up from the police station. All I remember is my moms getting phone calls all throughout the night with updates on the nigga’s condition. I don’t know what that last phone call was; I never asked, but I do know that by sunrise, I was on a plane to New York City.

I moved in with my aunt, who had lived in the States for years. Adjusting was hard, but I didn't have to fight anymore; it calmed me. She enrolled me in a private school, where I met Jaxon.