Page 50

. . .

Noodle and Aku were down near the water, talking low and laughing between whispered prayers that both their men could find common ground.

The fall sun shimmered across the waves.

Every few seconds, Aku peeked back toward the house, and Noodle touched her arm, let them handle it, her eyes said.

But you could see it in both their faces—they were holding their breath behind those smiles, hoping they made it out to the yacht later.

Noodle was a water baby and Aku loved luxury.

Malik stood on the back deck, gaze locked on Aku like she was the answer to every question he ever had. His focus shifted real quick when Bu stepped out onto the patio.

He didn’t announce himself, didn’t puff his chest or square up or throw no extra tension in the air.

Bu moved different, with confidence…quiet but sure.

The kind of presence that didn’t need no loud-ass chain swinging or a crowd of followers to feel powerful. His energy was steady, unbothered, and rooted in shit most men hadn’t even survived to talk about. The kind of man who’d been forged in fire, but learned to walk cool through it.

He was always calculated, always observing. He knew his words held weight with the people that mattered, so he never wasted them on nobody that didn’t. When Bu spoke, you listened . Not out of fear, but because you knew he wasn’t gonna say it twice.

He carried the Jig on his back, but still knew how to sit in peace, when the moment called for it. He knew how to let young men be men, or how to check ‘em without raising his voice.

As much as he didn’t show it, Malik respected that.

Even if they weren’t seeing eye to eye yet…even if they wore different flags and had scars from different wars.

Bu gave him a look. It wasn’t aggressive, or friendly, just level.

Malik straightened up a little. Not out of intimidation, but acknowledgment. ‘Cause Bu was the kind of man Malik could’ve used in his life earlier. He had that big brother stillness, that ‘I’ll ride or correct you, depending on what you need’ type energy.

They stood like that for a beat - just them. Ocean in the background. Women praying in the distance. Tension swirling low, but not boiling.

A standoff without violence.

A test of character, not strength.

Malik didn’t say shit at first. Just stood up straight, arms crossed, watching.

Bu nodded, red cap backwards. “What’s up.”

“Chillin’,” Malik replied, voice flat, trying to feel out the moment.

They didn’t smile, didn’t dap…just stood there, letting the air fill the space between them.

“I know y’all locked in,” Bu started, “you and Aku. So, outta respect for my wife, I showed up.”

Malik’s jaw moved slightly. “I appreciate that.”

“I ain’t gon fake like I’m excited about this little union or whatever,” Bu said. “But I ain’t here to hate. I’m here to talk.”

“I can listen,” Malik replied.

Bu pulled out his phone and passed it over. “This him - Jay, Black billionaire - real nigga. Weed money, tech money…now he investing in shit that matters.” Bu got straight to the point.

Malik studied the screen, then handed the phone back. “He from Georgia?”

“Alabama.”

Malik nodded once. “What he want with my app?”

“To help it grow, stay black-owned…keep the culture in it without selling your soul.” Bu had already chopped it up with Jay about Malik, including everything Aku told him about the app. Sent the shit over to him while they talked about everything in between.

“I just walked out a room full of white boys offering money and control,” Malik muttered. “They smiled in my face and told me I should be grateful they even saw value in what I built.”

“They always do that,” Bu grunted. “Offer help with one hand and strip you down with the other.”

“I ain’t tryna flip my shit into some watered-down bullshit.”

“Then don’t,” Bu said. Point blank…no bullshitting. “Jay ain’t like them. He know how this goes. I told him about Plugged In, told him it’s already makin’ moves. He wanna talk.”

Malik took a breath, rubbing his jaw. “You think I’m just supposed to trust that?”

“No,” Bu shrugged. “I think you smart enough to make your own call. I’m just bringing the opportunity.”

They paused again.

“You know, I ain’t never had a reason to look at you twice,” Bu said, voice calm but clipped. “But I watched. I see how you show up for her, for your hood. You rough, hot-headed, but you got heart.”

Malik looked out at the water, then back at Bu. “I want more for her, more than I got.”

“Then get it,” Bu said. “Nobody gon’ hand it to you. You either step into the room and take what’s yours, or you keep struggling in circles.”

“What about this music thing Noodle was talking about?” When Malik got there, Noodle rocked on her toes, blabbing about the streaming app her and Lunar wanted to do. They wanted to create more wealth like the family had done. Malik could code, so it only made sense to keep everything black as hell.

“Streaming app,” Bu confirmed. “Little Lunar’s label - exclusive shit, Black-owned. She thinks you could build it.”

“I could.”

“Then do it.”

They stood still again - nerves settling.

“I never had no brother,” Malik said, real low.

Bu smirked. “I don’t need one…got two already,” his lips curled a little.

Malik cracked a smile. “Tough crowd, nigga.”

“But I respect real,” Bu added. “And you real. So yeah…this the start of something.”

Malik nodded. “I’mma take that meeting.”

“Good,” Bu said. “And after that? Do right by her.”

Malik looked toward the beach again. “That’s the plan.”

Nothing else. No hug, no dap, no promises on bridging anything. There was just mutual respect ‘cause Bu saw so much of himself in Malik and if he was anything like him - he knew, Malik would take the world by storm. The same way he had turned a little lawn company into a franchise.

The yacht was everything.

Not because it was huge or sleek or decked out in gold trim— though it was. But because it was theirs. Purchased by Bu on a whim, just because his wife loved the water.

It was the first time in a long time Malik had been somewhere that felt like a reward, not survival. Somewhere his hoodie didn’t feel out of place, and his girl fit right up under him without fear of bullets or bullshit.

The sun beamed down without being too loud about it. Wind whipped through edges and braids. Music played low from the yacht’s speakers—slow jams mixed with some Little Lunar records. The kind of playlist that kept you rocking without realizing it.

Malik stood near the edge, watching Aku laugh with Noodle. So carefree, in all her luxurious black girl magic…glowing and shit.

Malik lit the blunt Bu had passed him earlier. He pulled slow, savoring it—not just the weed, but the air…the peace.

“You still quiet,” Bu said, sidling up next to him, fresh in designer swim trunks and a tank that showed off the Jig tatted across his chest.

Malik looked over and smirked. “I’m takin’ it all in.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to take in. This just how life s’posed to be when you got real ones around.”

He was right.

Aku glanced over at them from her seat, eyes soft.

She’d been watching him all day too, sneaking glances every time he smiled, like she couldn’t believe it was real.

Malik had been keeping a hand on her all afternoon—her waist, her hip, the back of her neck.

He didn’t say much, just kissed her temple every once in a while like he had to remind himself this was his life now.

“You think he gon’ jump in?” Noodle asked as Aku sipped on her drink. She side-eyed Aku when she kept getting only juice or water, but maybe her girl was just vibing without doing too much.

“He ain’t gon’ mess up that hair for nobody,” Aku said, and the girls burst out laughing.

“Damn, y’all talkin’ shit?” Malik called out.

“Always,” Aku shot back.

“Your girl the ringleader,” Noodle said.

Aku stood and walked over to him with her hips switchin’. She stepped between his legs, her hands slipping into the pockets of his shorts. “You not hot in this hoodie?”

“Only thing hot out here is you,” he said, real low.

She smiled, pulled him down by the chin, and kissed him slow. “I needed this…all of it.”

“I know.”

“Didn’t know how bad I needed it ‘til I saw you smiling again.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “You do that. You give me reasons to want shit. - Big shit. Peace, a home, and a yacht just like this one, but with our name on the back.”

“You really want all that?” she asked.

“I want you sittin’ pretty, dripped in all the shit you like—diamonds, custom heels, designer shit I can’t even pronounce, and I wanna earn it. Ain’t no handouts over here.”

Her eyes softened. “You got me already, Malik. You don’t need to buy me.”

“I know. That’s why I want to. ‘Cause you ain’t never asked me for nothin’ but to love you right.”

Bu walked by again, this time with a plate of shrimp and a bottle of champagne, laughing ‘bout something the chef said. The whole group had shifted into good vibes—jokes flying, inside stories spilling out, and laughter bouncing off the water…

On the deck above, tucked behind a makeshift canopy clipped to the poles—just a thin white sheet fluttering around them—Aku and Noodle sat cross-legged on lounge cushions.

It was their happy den. No boys, except for Little Lunar when they were kids, no shoes, and no responsibilities.

Just them and whatever truth needed air.

Noodle twisted the ends of her hair, squinting across the dimly lit space. “You good? You keep smirking.”

Aku pulled her knees up and grinned. “I got something to tell you.” It had been killing her since she found out.

Noodle blinked. “Tell me then. Don’t be weird.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Noodle’s mouth dropped open. “No you’re not.”

“I am.” Aku’s smile spread wide.

“Stop.”

“I’m not playin’, Noodle. I’m dead serious.”

Noodle covered her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh my goodness, Aku. Wait, for real?”