"Gio?"
"No, I don't hear from him much since he sold your grandfather's shop and moved to New Mexico. He told me he was leaving me and the city behind him once he left. It sad that Gio was even jealous of my grief for your father. I don't know where we went wrong with that boy."
My grandma shook her head. I know not talking to her only living son bothered her but sometimes shit had to be like that. Gio knows if he ever steps foot in New York, I'm going to murder him in cold blood. You only get one time to shoot at me; I don't care who the fuck you are. Family is family, until they are not.
"Anyway, Grandma, you got the key to the door downstairs?"
"It's in my room in that nightstand that my bible sits in. What are you going down there for? I wish you had told me that you were coming. I would've gotten Hector from down the street to help me clean it up a bit."
"Nah, you didn't have to do that, Grandma. I'm going to get someone to come clean it up and move Pops' stuff to a storage unit."
"Why so?"
"I want to make it comfortable down there for me so that I can stay with you sometimes. Me and Crew going to love being down there on Sundays waiting for the food you cook to be done."
"I would love that. I love Crew, my other baby. I know his greedy butt is ready to eat some of my famous Stew once it gets cold here."
"You already know."
After I kissed her on her cheek, I went into the house to fetch the basement door key. I hated to lie to her, but if she knew I planned to stash millions of dollars down there, she would have had way too many questions and worries she otherwise wouldn't have. With the large fence around the house, this neighborhood being quiet, and a heavy police presence around the area, I know my money will be safe here, and neither it nor grandma will be touched, and I'll make sure of that.
I entered her house, which was coated thick with the scent of greens and some meat in the oven. I'm going to be sure to get a plate of whatever it is before I leave here. Home-cooked meals only come for pay these days around my house whenever Bam comes through. I hope Ciara can cook and if she can't, I hope her ass is willing to learn how.
After grabbing the key from her room, I walked out of the back door towards the unit downstairs.
When I put the key into the door and turned the lock, I had to put a little force behind the push to get inside. The door was dragging along the floor, and I saw instantly all the work that would need to be done inside here.
The dust started to scatter throughout the room, making it look smokey like a cigar lounge. I pulled my shirt over my mouth and came further inside, fanning in front of my face. I pulled out my phone and took a couple of pictures to send to my construction patna related to Scotty and my home designer, who just did Ciara's apartment the other day. With the quick work they did on her spot in Castle Hill, and the remodel in the kitchen at my penthouse. I would have this safe house ready in no time. Then I'll be able to focus on other issues that arise in the streets, like niggas infringing on my territory.
After I took the photos of the downstairs unit, I dialed Ciara's number so I could come through and see her sometime today. I'm sure she was hungover, lying down after getting drunk as hell yesterday. The line rang for a few times and then once it went to voicemail, I hung up and put my phone back into my pocket. With nothing else to do at the moment, I picked up a box and moved it out of the way, before moving another one and another one until I'd already made a pathway.
When I got to a stack of pictures lying at the top of a pile, there was a photo on top that was of my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa standing in front of grandpa's old Chevy in the front yard. The house looked fresh back then, and my father looked younger than I am today in the picture. I appreciated seeing pictures of my pops since he didn't take many when he was alive. It was so rare for him to be caught on camera that we had to use a picture of him from the club on his obituary. It was the only one we had of him smiling.
All the dust stirring around the room made me sneeze hard as hell, so I knew it was best I get the fuck out of here and let professional niggas handle this shit.
When I decided to come to a stopping point, I sat the pictures down on a box that was not stable, so all of the picturescame crashing to the floor. When I reached to pick them up, one specific picture on the ground caught my eye. It was of my father, a lady I didn't recognize, and a baby boy in her arms that I'm guessing was me. I remember exactly what my mama looked like back in the day, and this wasn't her. I took the photo with me up the stairs outside to figure out who mystery woman was in the picture. I know my pops wasn't playing on my mama's top like this by having family pictures with me, him, and some hoe.
"I was just about to come tell you that I am just now dropping the chicken, so you may want to come to a stopping point down there and wash up so you can eat it fresh. How nasty is it down there?"
"Not really nasty, just dusty, as I don't know what. But Grandma, who is this woman in this picture holding me?"
Grandma's eyes squinted, and she placed the towel in her hand on her hip as she leaned to get a closer look at the photo in my hand.
"Oh, Oh."
She turned back to the stove, stirring in the pot of greens.
"Oh, what? My father had me taking family pictures with another woman? He was playing the game like that? No wonder, mama."
"Naw, naw. That's not what happened."
"Well, what happened?"
"It's really complicated, baby, and I wish your daddy had told you instead of me."
"Come on, sit down with me."
Grandma slid her feet over to the small breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen. Her and I took a seat, and she grabbed my hand across the table.
