Page 71 of Save Room for Us

“A lot of times I wish I hadn’t stayed with Cedric so long. It was mostly out of fear, but I wish I’d gotten to the point I got to as of recently, sooner.” I sighed as Asif listened. “I just kept getting scared that if I left he would kill me and Sophie. But maybe I should’ve at least tried again and tested it instead of this.”

“Don’t feel bad, love, muthafuckas take forever to leave all the time. You doing it now was perfect timing for us though.”

“Yeah.” I hugged his body tighter. “You must’ve taken forever to leave someone.” I tilted my head back to watch his handsome face, locs splayed over the couch pillow as he tucked his full lips in before running his hand down his beard. His chains rested on the chest of his white T-shirt and every time he moved, his cologne danced up my nose.

“Nah. No offense but I ain’t got that shit in me. I understand hard times, and that’s some shit I’m willing to thug it out for. But staying with a muthafucka that don’t mean me any good ain’t in my blood. I understand it though, seeing my father and my brother do it. It’s easy on the outside looking in, but a lot of times shit be deeper than that, so I don’t judge.”

I nodded. “I know all about your brother and Nixi but who should your dad have left?”

“My mama.” He stroked his beard again, and I surmised it was a telltale sign that he was thinking deeply. I found it sexy regardless.

“Really? Most kids want their parents together.”

“I know, and I can’t really speak on the details ’cause a nigga was so fucking young but I distinctly remember my pops being unhappy. That shit stuck out to me, even as a fucking kid. Seemed like he only smiled or laughed when he was with me. Never with her though, at least not in front of me. They arguedallthe fucking time.

Scratching his beard, he said, “Shit was scary to me seeing my pops like that. I had a classmate whose father murked himself, and I was young, scared as shit my dad would do the same thing ’cause he was never fucking happy.” Smiling, he added, “I used to do shit to try to make him laugh and smile, then I’d ask if he was good and he’d tell me yeah. One day the nigga asked me why I always wanted to know if he was good, and I made some shit up, not wanting him to know my angle.”

“That seems so stressful for a child.”

“It was.” He laughed shortly, glancing down at me momentarily. “Now as a grown man, I know my father inside out, and he would never take his own life over some shit like that.” Sighing, he said, “When he met Lisara, it was even more obvious how unhappy the nigga was because he would legit change colors when he saw her.”

“Change colors?” I laughed and Asif followed suit.

“Nigga would be blushing lowkey. He hate when I say it, but,” he shrugged, “I knew I had to make sure she stayed around. That’s all I wanted was for her and my pops to stay in each other’s lives. I didn’t give a fuck what it cost. She made me happyandhim? Yeah, she couldn’t go nowhere.”

“That’s sweet, baby.”

“Anyway,” he huffed, “I just think my father should’ve cut ties with my mama sooner than he did but either way, he ended up winning with Lisara. Had that shit been me, she would’ve been gon’ first fuck up.”

We chuckled heartily.

“What does this chain mean? MFM?”

“Corporation to the government but truly just a front. I employ a lot of niggas up under me and I wanna make sure they don’t get into some shit when it comes to how or where they getting bread from. So Money Fiends Mob is a business that makes sure everybody’s ducks are in a row and shit. They want proof a nigga making legit money, they got it. I don’t just wanna protect myself, but the niggas who work for me.

“Also, niggas feel more like they a part of something when it got a name to it. The dedication takes itself to another height. I don’t know why but that’s human nature. We need names and titles to make shit feel legit. Them niggas see the brand and it make ’em wanna go harder.”

As he talked, I couldn’t help but to admire how astute and intelligent he was. He put thought into everything and was the definition of wise beyond ones years.

I’d always dated men who were older than me, never even my same age, but none of them possessed the demeanor or even the mindset Asif had even well into their thirties. I’d never met a man I felt like could teach me things, and I assumed it was because I was smart in my own right, having gone through years of schooling, but I realized it was because of the type of men I’d dealt with.

I felt stupid, for lack of a better word, in the same room with Asif St. Thomas, making me wonder even more now what he and Milan even conversed about.

“You are so easy to talk to.” I turned onto my stomach, pressing my chin into his chest. “Are you really twenty-six or thirty-six?”

“Twenty-six as far as a nigga knows.” He smirked. “I don’t know why you think you so much older than me.”

“Four years is a nice amount.”

“You right ’cause my mama had me at two, so you even older than her.”

“Shut the hell up.” I laughed.

“If I got siblings older than you, which I do, it don’t count,” he stated, which was true. Khari, Lequay, and Bashar were all older than me. I was only a year older than Cemone. “Shit, we probably learned to read around the same time.”

“Boy, please!” I shrieked, swatting him and trying to not laugh yet failing as he cracked up. “I was definitely reading in pre-school while your ass was a newborn, okay? My daddy made sure of it!”

“I don’t know, I’m not falling for it. I can tell you didn’t start reading ’til you was ’bout eight.”

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