Page 6

So yeah, after the madness with my dad getting deported, and once everything was set and stone with my mom’s job, that’s when a year later, she’d bought a house, and it was the house that was right next door to Law, and Dutch, who’d raised Law.

My mom put me, and Shai through private school, and Law went to private school with me as well.

I was so in love with that man, that I wanted to follow him wherever he went.

Because Law was two years older than me, he went off to college first. His ass was sprung when it came to me as well, so he didn’t leave Miami.

He stayed right here and attended college at FIU.

After I finished high school, I went and attended FIU as well.

I majored in public relations, with a minor in marketing.

I was chasing a goal, wanting a career in PR and crisis management.

I knew that the goal was to one day have my own business, where I would represent high profile clients, such as big-time celebrities, athletes, and whoever would be of importance.

Law used to always tell me that my degree could be for decoration because he wanted to be a high-profile attorney in Miami, and take care of me, but I watched my mom hustle, so I wanted to hustle as well, and make my own bag.

After Law graduated from FIU, he went on to law school at The University of Miami.

People saw Law outside of the courtroom, and they judged him because he was a black man, that would talk with slang, and he did hang around a lot of criminals, so they assumed that he was a criminal as well, but Law was easily the smartest man that I had ever met in my life.

He didn’t take any shortcuts to get to where he was at.

He worked his ass off. Over the years, he’s worked at different firms, where he’s made his mark in the law industry, and five years ago, he decided that he wanted to open his own firm, which was called Crawford Law Group, and even with the downfall of our marriage, I can still proudly say that Law has one of the biggest, successful firms in Miami.

I want to rake his eyes out just about every other day, but I was proud of him, and his success.

As for me, I was on my shit too. Call me the ‘fixer upper’ in Miami when it came to scandals.

My business House of Soraya strategies was here to clean up the mess of my clients.

Basically, to sum up what I do, clients that I have, who find themselves fucking up in the public eye, whether it be some old racists tweets that came out before they were popping, a high-profile male getting caught cheating on his wife, or just any kinds of scandals that doesn’t look good for their image, I come in to clear it up and fix the narrative.

With the careers that Law and I were both in, over the years, we’ve had to work hand in hand with each other.

Sometimes, we’ve shared clients. While I would have to clean up that clients public mess, Law would clean it up legally.

It’s like when it came to business, him and I could fix that, but when it came to us, that’s where things went wrong.

As I was lying here, thinking about the events from the past, my phone started buzzing on the bed.

I picked my phone up, looking down, seeing that it was the security at the gate house calling me.

I answered, and they were letting me know that the tow truck was here to pick up Law’s cars, and that Law was right behind the truck.

The security was asking me if it was okay to let them in, and I assured him that it was.

I hung the phone up, and sighed, praying that me and Law didn’t have to get into it.

These days, it seemed like every time that we would get around each other, we couldn’t seem to get along.

I understood that emotions are running high, and we had to accept our new norms, but the shit was annoying as hell.

I sat up on the bed and pulled myself up to my feet. My house shoes were sitting right by the bed, so I slipped inside of them. I was still in my suit that I wore to court this morning, but I removed the jacket, leaving me in the silk blouse, that was tucked into the slacks.

I groaned, hoping that this would be a quick process, and I didn’t have to get into it with this man.

I walked out of the massive master bedroom and walked the long hallway that led to the circular, winding staircase.

As I was going down the stairs, the doorbell rang.

I’m sure that it was Law ringing the doorbell, wanting the keys to his vehicles.

I still had all the keys to his cars hanging up on the key holder.

I went ahead, and I walked over to the large, double doors, unlocked it, and I swung the door open, and sure enough, it was him standing there, sporting that permanent mug on his face.

Law was naturally mean as hell. His ass didn’t have to try to go out of his way to be mean because that was a trait that he just possessed.

If he didn’t know you, you didn’t get to see that fun, playful side that he had.

He was the kind of man that was always serious, and about his business.

Back when we were together, I would always have to get on him, telling him that there were days when I wanted him to be soft with me.

Because he was a lawyer, he felt the need to always be in in the kind of mode where he was sharp, calculated, always two steps ahead of me, and at times, his words could come out like weapons.

I loved this man though. Despite our divorce, I still loved him.

I knew that I would always love him. We shared way too much history with each other for me to ever stop loving him.

Our kids will keep us bounded, even though we aren’t married anymore.

“Move the G- wagon out the way. It’s blocking my truck,” was the first thing that he said when the door opened.

Granted, I didn’t expect him to hit me with a ‘what’s up’ or ask me how I was doing, but I just hated that this had to be us.

I knew that I said I still loved him, but to be honest, I didn’t think Law still loved me these days.

There was no emotion behind his words. It was distant.

Dull. Something that was hard to explain.

“I have the keys right here. Can you just move it for me?” I asked him, walking away for a second, so that I could walk right over to where the key rack was, and grab the keys for my G- wagon.

I was so petty that I haven’t drove that car in months.

Law gifted me with that car like three years ago, and because these days the only feeling that I would feel towards him was anger, I didn’t want to push anything that he’d purchased for me.

“I just told you back at the courthouse that I’m not going out of my anymore to appease you, bruh. Move your own shit!” he snapped on me.

“Moving my car out of the way is appeasing me? You the one that needs the fuckin car moved. Not me!” I paused from walking out of the door because if he kept talking crazy, I wasn’t going to move shit.

“It don’t make me no difference. I bought that shit. I’ll have them load that motha fucka up on that flatbed, and take it with me,” he spat, as if that was supposed to hurt my feelings.

“Then do that! I don’t give a fuck! I haven’t drove that car in months!

Take it, and I’ll have a new one pulling in the driveway tomorrow.

I don’t want shit that your ass got me, so yeah, tell them to take it too!

” just that fast, he’d pissed me off. I hated for someone to buy something for me and then gloat in my face about how they bought it and attempt to be an Indian giver with it.

“Man, you already got the keys in your hands. Go move the shit out the way, so they can get my truck out,” he wasn’t fazed by the shit that I was saying.

Pissed, and not wanting the truck anymore, I marched my ass out of the house, and I walked over to the men that were outside.

It was three of them, and they were talking amongst each other, pointing at Law’s cars, trying to see which ones they were going to move first.

“You can take the G- wagon too!” I let them know.

“Ay, I’m the one that called ya’ll, and made the booking. Only take the six cars that I told ya’ll about. Don’t listen to shit that she talking about!” Law was standing on the side of me, and there were veins that were popping out of the side of his neck, letting me know that he was pissed.

“I don’t want shit here that you bought for me!

Tell them to take it!” I screamed at him, and he came closer to me, getting all in my face.

I was tall, but Law was taller. He stood at 6’6 even.

His height, along with his build would make you question why he didn’t go off to play basketball. He could play well too.

Our backyard had a custom basketball court, and back when our house was a home, he would go out and play with the boys. As good as he was, and as many people tried to recruit him to play since he was in elementary school, it just wasn’t something that he wanted to do.

Because I’ve known him since I was six, I can stand here right now and say that Law was always fine. Even at six years old, when I knew that I hated boys, and I affiliated boys with having the cooties, I knew that Law was different, and that I was attracted to him.

He put the f in fine. Law had brown skin that was damn near perfect.

Living with this man for as long as I did, I knew that he didn’t have some crazy, rigorous skin routine, either.

It was just natural soaps that he was using on his face that had blessed him with this perfect skin.

Law was huge in built. You could look at him and tell that he had a personal relationship with the gym.

It showed in his broad shoulders. With the suit that he was wearing, that I knew was tailored to his body, you saw the perfect shape that he had.