“Then why ya ass up in here tryna cop it? Huh?”
“Because stupid niggas like you will actually pay for this bullshit. It’s the least I should get after having to deal with your bullshit for five years.”
“You didn’t have to do shit. You could’ve walked at any time the relationship didn’t suit you, just like you did. I ain’t ever held ya ass hostage up in this bitch. What’s in the bag, Daniella?”
She gripped it tightly, and I reached around her and snatched the bag off her arm. She whimpered when I removed the Rolex from inside the bag. “I bought that!” she hollered.
I tossed it at her. “You can have it. I don’t want that shit anyway.”
“You wore it proudly.” She balked.
“When I was representing my girlfriend, damn straight I did. But don’t front like you paid for that shit. I know ya thieving ass brother copped it in a game of craps. I guess you roll the same way he does."
"Fuck you, Reigh!”
“Yeah, I’m not interested in that anymore. Seems like you weren’t either, because you had no problem dipping on my black ass when shit got hard. Tell you what. Bounce your ass on out of here now.”
She turned around and stormed out of my condo. I dropped down onto the couch and rested my face in the palms of my hands. I was tired of the bullshit.
Accusations of doping violations hung heavily over my head, and I had been suspended for a year, but I wasn’t taking that shit lying down. I had failed a drug test, and I had even failed the B sample. The shit was in my system, but I hadn’t knowingly taken anything.
My lawyers, manager, head coach, and my science team were investigating what happened so that we could get me reinstated. It would have been nice to have my girlfriend of five years by my side too.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when she told me that she couldn’t take anymore, and she had packed her shit while I was away and left. When I came back home after the testing and themedia circus, it was to a Dear John letter. When I called her, she said that it was just too much, and she wanted out.
Daniella had never been a ride-or-die type, but I thought our love would see us through. The only thing her love saw her through was her way through my pockets. It hadn’t mattered much to me, though, because I had money, and I knew what it was to be without, too, so I wasn’t hung up on money.
After I paid management fees, coaching and gym fees, training camp expenses, taxes and insurance, I brought home just over one and a quarter million dollars per bout. I fought two to three times a year, and I invested my money wisely. I wasn’t hurting for the little shit that she spent.
My phone rang a few seconds later, and I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone. When I saw my brother’s name, I quickly changed my mind.
“Wassup?” I greeted Wryn.
“Wassup, nigga? You back in town?”
“Yeah. Just got in. Ella’s ass up in here tryna steal some shit.”
“You shut that shit down?”
“Hell yeah.”
Wryn snickered. “Roll on over to my spot. We’re having a birthday celebration for Paloma tonight.”
“Damn, nigga. I was gonna see if you wanted to go see some ass shake, but that’s cool. Why she ain’t hanging out with her girls?”
“I don’t know. Thirty-five has her ass getting sentimental. She wants to be with her family.”
“A’ight. Let me shower, and I’ma head straight over.”
“A’ight. In a minute.”
I released a long exhale before I pushed up off the couch. My black ass was tired as shit, but I’d do anything for my day ones. Wryn and Paloma were my world; they had been since I was kicked out the womb.
We didn’t have the easiest lives, but between the three of us, we had love. Wryn and Paloma’s daddy didn’t stick around for too long. That high-yella nigga was constantly in and out of their lives and my mama’s thighs, even after I was born. Hell, at least they knew who the nigga was. Nobody knew who my daddy was.
I just knew that I’d inherited his dark skin, dark eyes, and according to my mama, his dark temper. My siblings had light skin like our mama and their daddy, and they had inherited his curly hair and hazel eyes.
When you had a mama who struggled with schizophrenia like our mama did, and she refused to take her meds, you had to take what you could get. We were in and out of foster care growing up, more in than out. All the days weren’t bad. There were times when she was lucid enough to shower us with love. Wryn loved when she baked cookies with us. Paloma’s dramatic ass got hyped off the skits she used to write for us to perform on rainy days. Me though? I loved cuddling with Mama and eating popcorn while we watched movies. I secretly inhaled her clean cotton and lavender scent.
