A/N: The hallway conversation is based on one I overheard a few years ago. I swear, 'Maybe you should advertise' is still a guaranteed laugh for me and my friends. On a personal note, my CPAP machine arrived today!
Tough Choices, Part I
Mack's POV
"Sup, son!"
Thomas grabs me in a tight hug in the middle of Miami International and I squeeze back. He's grinning like a fool.
"Sup! Aigh, what's on the plan?"
"Pimpin'. Lots of pimpin. Dancing, seeing the fam, and pimpin'."
"Awright!" Med yells. Thomas grins and he and Med do their usual complicated handshake before Thomas squeezes him.
"What's got you so excited? What happened to Zoe?"
Med makes a little noise and waves his hand. "Man, she couldn't appreciate the hustle. Forget that. I got that swerve, like my daddy. Love me or leave me."
I don't care how many times my son says that, it's hilarious each fucking time. My son has more self-confidence than I had at his age. I'm proud and I want him to keep that. Not arrogant; just want to make sure he knows his worth.
"I see you raising these boys right."
I turn. Uncle Miguel is still that hustler and he's grinning at Med. He's gotta be Pops's age and he's still lookin' hard and fit. "Tio. Good to see you, sir."
He snorts. "I'm not your bosses. We family." He grabs me in a hug and punches me in the arm. I'm writing Pops that his cousin still gotta mean punch. I introduce the boys to their tio Miguel and he hugs each one. Midi is picked up and flipped upside down. He screams and laughs and I grin.
"Hey, little Midi man, guess what?"
"What?"
"Guess who's coming to see you?"
His eyes are big. "Who?"
Tio Miguel crouches in front of him. "Your tio Dero." Midi cheers like a madman and tio Miguel laughs. "Yup. You'll see him Christmas Day, OK?"
"That's the best ever! Daddy, did you know he was gonna be here?" I nod, smiling. Midi so excited he's still jumping up and down. Tio Miguel rubs his head and stands back up.
"How's your Pops?"
"Bad chest cold." Tio Miguel frowns. "Yo, I stayed sick at Sing Sing."
I told Les and Ranger what I found out from Pops. I confirmed what Les was hearing and he's lining shit up. Meanwhile, I gotta get outta NYC.
It's not a joke. He's serious and so am I. I'm ready to battle Yala now. If I had any love for her left, it's gone.
—oOo—
Thomas's apartment is sweet. He lives in a high rise in Flagami. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. The boys are sleeping in the bedroom I was in last time I was here and they're all excited. First time on a plane, first time in Miami, everything about this trip is a bunch of firsts. They barely slept last night, they were so excited, and now that they're here?
They can see the pool and that's all they need to see to come ask me if they can get in.
"No." I put a reminder to get them into some swimming classes on the list of things Daddy needs to do. Matter of fact, I need to learn to swim.
"But Daddy—"
"No, Med."
He pouts. Midi's lip starts going, usually the start of the waterworks.
"Yo, trust Daddy?"
"Yes," they both mutter.
"OK, then. Put your clothes away, take a shower, and put on your swim trunks." They look up, hopeful. "No, we are not going to the pool."
"Kay," Med mumbles.
Thomas laughs. "Quit fucking with mis sobrinos, primo, and tell 'em."
I shake my head. "Nah. Gotta learn to trust and obey Daddy, even when you don't know what's up." I point and the boys slink off. I close the door and Thomas is staring at me.
"Why not just tell 'em?"
"One, gotta trust Daddy. Two, if I tell 'em, they'll hurry us to go from now until the moment we leave. Come on, primo. Don't you remember being their age?"
He groans. "Good point. That's why you're Daddy and I'm fun tio Thomas."
"Yeah, yeah, tio Thomas," I mumble, putting my clothes in his closet. "Other thing: they can't swim."
"They can't … right. Brooklyn. Well, they gotta learn how to swim down here."
"Right. Gotta have eyes on them the moment they get in the water."
Thomas starts pressing my clothes while I make sure the boys shower and change into their swim trunks. They join Uncle Miguel in the living room while I unpack their stuff. He brought a family album and is embarrassing me and Thomas with the baby pics.
No one could ever deny me my sons. They look just like me.
"Daddy, it's hot in Miami!" Midi collapses to the floor all dramatic. I know, Midi. I know. Daddy is sweatin' already!
I hit the shower and get fresh, then go searching for my phone. Thomas is in the kitchen reading the display instead of pressing my shirts.
"Nosy fuck. How'd you get past the code?"
He snorts, handing it over. "Not a lot of options you would have chosen, but your wedding anniversary? Seriously?"
"Who else knows it?"
"Word. I had to look it up. You might want to consider the date your divorce came through." He smirks. "Who's Ms. Sexy?"
I search for her message. I can't believe she hit me back that fast.
There's a picture.
Ms. Sexy in a bikini. A skimpy little bikini. Miami? Lucky. Maybe I'll see you. *wink, wink*
I grip the counter and stare. Don't tease, Andrea. Please don't.
Thomas whistles. "Aigh, son, who is she cuz she got that sweet shape! And you turned straight red!" He snatches the phone and flips through my pics looking for more. "Yo, she got a sister?"
"Yeah. Both married."
"Cousins? Anything! Shit, she willing to send a pic of the booty?" Thomas is straight staring at my phone and I snatch that sucker back and point to my shirt.
I had to put passwords and all kinda shit on my phone when the boys moved in. Last thing I need is Thomas staring at … I'm not sure what Andrea is right now, but it's … something I wanna keep. Me and Andrea been on the phone a lot since we met. She's got that background like Yala, Master's degree, worked for the government, eventually working for the city. I'm a hood with a record! A single father who works insane hours and takes care of his sons. What the fuck does she want with me? She can have anyone!
Love to see you. Visiting family?
Yes. I'm in Flagami.
Where?
She gives me the apartment building and I squat down, hiding the screen from Thomas. He's trying his best to read.
"Yo, handle my shirt and quit trying to read."
"I like words. The words on your phone look interesting."
Nosy fuck.
What apartment?
Odd question.
:D
712.
I stand up. "Be right back."
Thomas raises a brow. "Where is she?"
"Next door, son."
—oOo—
I'm leaning against the door, smiling, when it opens.
It's not Andrea. I straighten. "Is Andrea here?"
"Holy shit," the woman whispers. She's sexy, but she's not Ms. Sexy. "Are you single?"
I give her my 'wolf' grin. "Andrea."
Sista is two seconds from making a puddle on my shoes. "Right. Dree!" She waves me in. I close the door behind me and stare.
A room full of sexy women, all in bikinis and bathing suits and they're all staring at me. Not bad but I'm looking for someone else. Andrea walks out backwards in that sexy bikini and my dick stirs, wondering if we can get some play. The booty has been certified 100% fabulous. Major. And the legs …
My dick is begging me to make something happen with that.
She's laughing and holding her phone at her chest, tryna protect it from her two friends. "No, I'm not introducing Mack to you! I'm keeping him for myself!"
"Need a pair of handcuffs?"
She whirls around and stares. I'm wearing a white tank top, a pair of plaid shorts, and classic boat shoes. Thomas outfit.
"Wha … wha … how …?" Her mouth is moving but not making words. She finally stops and bites her lip.
Aw nah, Ms. Sexy, let me.
I walk over, tilt her face up and nibble her lower lip. She exhales and I slip her the tongue, moving my tongue the way my body would really like to rock. I stop when I start thinking about putting her on the floor.
"Yo. Nice bikini."
She stares at me. "Thanks … Nice … chest."
"I do my best."
"Keep it up."
I bounce my pecs and reality comes back.
"Damn!"
"Holy Shit!"
"Why are you not fucking him right now!?"
"Seriously, does he have a brother?!"
Every woman in the room is laughing. The one who opened the door is still staring at me. "That was hot! Aigh, who are you, where did you come from, and do you have a brother?" Again, the ladies laugh and I stroke Ms. Sexy's back cuz she's stiff. She pinches me when I let my fingers dip down a little too far.
"I'm Mack. My cousin lives next door—"
"Thomas?!"
I nod. She falls back on the couch in a swoon. "Oh my fucking god! You're that Mack?"
"What did he say about me?"
"That his cousin was bout that life!" I raise a brow. "I spotted you on your last visit."
Ah. He was killing her interest in me. Wonder why.
"What the fuck does that mean?" one of the ladies asks.
"I have no idea, but I'll believe it."
I turn back to Ms. Sexy. "You already know." She looks questioning. "My hobbies?"
"Oh." She smiles. "Right."
I smile. "Anyway, I wanted to say yo. I'm staying for ten days, me and the boys, tryna figure out what's good."
"Meaning?"
I let her go and shrug. "I've been offered a position down here. RangeMan Miami. Thomas works there in management. I'm taking the open position."
She frowns. "I thought you were in management in NYC."
"I am, but me and Jorge have the same title and duties. Can only have one man per office. I either take Miami, Charlotte, or San Antonio. I want Miami since Thomas is here and I got family here."
"Oh." She nods, that look I used to see on Yala's face on hers. Scheming. "The boys are here?" I nod. "Ah. Well. Maybe I'll meet them."
"Maybe."
She nods. "See you later." She slides her fingers across my chest and around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss.
When she stops, I'm seriously thinking of putting her up against a wall and I know my reaction is obvious. She smells like some kind of flower I can't identify, something sweet, and her lips are sweet. Soft. Everything about her is screaming 'Take me to bed!' and my body is responding.
There's a knock at the door and the same chick answers. It's Thomas, smirking.
"Yo. Hey Nishi." He flashes her deuces and she smiles.
"Thomas."
He winks at her then turns to me. "Yo, Midi's on that 'Where's Daddy' tip. Five minutes and he'll go searching."
"Gotcha." I turn and let him see Andrea. His brow rises. "Yo, Andrea Wilson, this is my cousin Thomas Williams. Thomas, Andrea Wilson."
This fucker grins and I know he's about to kill my game.
"So you're Mack's Ms. Sexy, huh? I see why. Pleasure to meet you."
—oOo—
"I hate you, son. I really do." I'm back in Thomas's apartment. I walked out completely red, muttering an excuse about checking on my boys.
Thomas is cracking up. "She blushed, son! Every woman in that room was hating on her. Best believe, you got points."
"You told her I call her Ms. Sexy!"
"Shit, I see why! I'd bang that too!" I whirl around and he backs away. "But you clearly putting a claim on it so Imma leave that alone."
I leave the kitchen and check on the boys. They're slathering on the sunscreen, but I cover their backs then sit still while they try to do the same for Daddy. We pack drinks and towels and the boys grab their things and stand at the door, ready and excited.
"Daddy?" Med yells.
"Yeah?"
"We're going to the beach?"
He and Midi look hopeful. I look at Thomas. "I didn't say a thing," he says.
I shake my head and turn back to the boys. "Yup."
"YAY!" They cheer and run around, excited again. "Are we gonna go to the naked beach?"
"How do you know about the naked beach?"
"You had to save some old lady from the naked beach when you were here last time," Med replies.
Oh. Edna Mazur. I smile, remembering how I clowned the Miami men for weeks over that.
Thomas starts laughing. "You're too young. Boy, I'm telling you: get some hair on your chest first!"
"Daddy doesn't have hair on his chest!"
Yes, I do, but Daddy's can't grow a rug, son. Med is looking triumphant, like he got an argument no one can throw, so I yell back. "Daddy can grow hair if that's needed, Med. Can you? Go stand out in the hallway and wait for me and Uncle Thomas."
"I can soon," he mutters, looking at his bony chest. Tio Miguel opens the door and takes their hands, but leaves the door propped open. "Uncle Thomas, Daddy's not too young for anything and he needs a lady."
"Daddy has Mommy," Midi says, pouting. "He doesn't need anyone else."
"Mommy and Daddy are divorced, Midi. Maybe Daddy needs to advertise."
"How?"
"I don't know. How do ladies advertise they're single?"
"Whatever they do, Daddy's not doing it!" I yell. Thomas is leaning against the wall, laughing, as I check to make sure we have everything. Water, sunscreen … I remember my phones at the last second and head back to the bedroom to grab them.
"Ladies walk around naked," Med says confidently. "They let their boobs hang out everywhere. Daddy, maybe you should let your thing hang where they can see it," he yells.
What … the … hell? Thomas and Uncle Miguel are on the floor, tears running down their faces, turning purple from laughter. I'm in the doorway, staring at my son, wondering how much he's seen in his short life before realizing he's eight. He's seen enough to know and he's seen more than he should have.
Time to start having that talk with him.
"What's so funny? It works! They sell magazines with that kinda stuff."
"How do you know about that?" Tio Miguel asks, wheezing.
"Daddy had one, Tio Miguel! The lady in the middle had the biggest boobs!"
Jesucristo! Tater missed a magazine. Now I gotta find it. My son is learning too much too fast. Thomas and I share a look and he nods. He put his away. I raise a brow and flick a look at Med. The look on Thomas's face says he'll double check tonight.
"Those ladies aren't advertising, Med."
"They're not?"
"No. That's what's known as 'spank material'."
"Thomas!"
"What?" He's trying to look innocent.
How did we even get on this subject?!
"That's true," Midi says. "Mommy spanked you when you took it home, Med. 'Member?"
Holy shit! When did they find that? I thought I did a good job hiding those! Tio Miguel is gasping for breath, he's laughing so hard.
Med glares at him. "But the lady in the magazine liked long walks on the beach, Cowboys football, and traveling. Daddy likes the Giants but he likes the other stuff too."
"I'll bet he does," Thomas says slyly. I glare at him. "That's what you remember, Med?"
"And she had huge boobs! And tiny panties on. So see! She advertised! Daddy, you should advertise."
"Son, Daddy is not advertising like that." I finally pull my phones off the chargers and stick 'em in my pockets, hitting the lights on my way out.
He shrugs. "The ladies always wanna know. Even Mommy's friends wanted to know."
"Know they didn't," Midi cries. "They wanted to know about Daddy's dick. That's not the same thing! Is it?"
"Boys! Silencio! No more until I tell you you can speak."
Med pouts but Midi smiles, happy to have had the last word. Hats! I grab their baseball caps, check that we have everything else (certain that we don't because my concentration is shot), and nod at Thomas, who grabs the cooler. I have everything else in a duffel bag. Uncle Miguel is holding his chest laughing at my boys. "Med, you think your Daddy's game is that weak?"
He looks at me and I nod. He shrugs. "I get more play than Daddy."
I roll my eyes. My son. "Boy, if you're sharing more than a milk with these little girls, we're having a serious talk."
"Med, if you get more play than your Daddy, Daddy's game is on life support," Thomas says, stepping out into the hallway. I sling the duffel over my shoulder and fish Thomas's keys out of my pocket to lock the door.
I look down the hall to see if we're being overheard. Of course we are. Every woman from the apartment next door is outside, red, tears running down their cheeks at my boys' comments. Andrea is looking at both of my boys, tear tracks and a small smile on her face, but they're not paying any attention to her. I smile, embarrassed again, and she waves. I throw deuces, then snap my fingers and point at Tio Miguel. The boys grab his hands and we head to the elevator.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, Med?"
"Maybe you should ask one of those ladies out. Show her your thing first though, so she knows you're single."
His voice carries and I hear lots of suppressed laughter behind me.
"Med?"
"Yes, Daddy?"
"Daddy doesn't wear a ring. That's all the proof any lady needs to see to know I'm single."
"Oh." He taps his chin, thinking. "But that means they have to get close to see your hand. I think my way works better, Daddy. Ladies can see your thing from far away." He nods, satisfied with his logic.
"Mommy said you're not supposed to show your pee-pee. You're supposed to keep it in your pants."
"Adults have different rules, Midi. Like, why does Mommy get upset when we see her in her bra, but her swimsuit tops are the same thing?"
Midi frowns. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He tugs my shorts. "Daddy, if you show your pee-pee off, they'll see it from really really far away."
The elevator beeps and we all step inside. The doors close and me, Thomas, and Tio Miguel lean against the walls and laugh as my boys stare at us, confused.
"Don't know why you're laughing," Med mutters. "It'll work. I know it will."
Keep talking, boys. You are finally helping Daddy's game.
—oOo—
The boys hit the beach at 100 mph. They're swimming and building sandcastles and really enjoying themselves. They're meeting cousins they'd only heard about and having fun and playing games. I'm catching up with the fam. We're fifty deep, adults and kids, and Tia Felicia started crying the moment she saw us. I haven't seen her since she and Tio Miguel left me with Mamí in Brooklyn. I stood and rocked with her until she calmed down and gave the family greetings from Pops. Everyone's glad to hear he only has six more months.
"Buen. Mi primo needs to leave NYC if he's gonna stay out," Tio Miguel mutters.
"He's planning on it. Yo, you still planning to back him?" He nods. "Then trust. Pops is coming home."
Tio Miguel is clean and has a business doing landscaping. Tio Joe does woodworking, so Pops has two legit family businesses to choose from and family support to stay clean. He's making the pledge to be in his grandsons' lives and he says he plans to keep it.
I'm glad to hear it and I hope he means it. I mean, I'm a grown ass man but I'd like to get to know my Pops a little. I'd like to know the man who made me. And my boys? I think he'd love 'em.
After a while, I finally get a chance to kick back in the sand and watch the boys play. Thomas flops down next to me.
"So?"
"I'm thinking about how to work this. What's your take home?"
He tells me and I wince. Losing that NYC location pay hurts.
"Yo, you got location pay because it's so fucking expensive in Brooklyn," Thomas says. "You won't need that down here, so picture this. You and the boys move here. We rent or buy a house. Buying gives us a tax deduction, gives the boys a nice stable home, and plenty of space. Put 'em in a good school district and we carpool to work. We saving money. Plus with me in the house there's always an adult there to watch the boys.
You continue to date Ms. Sexy and if it works out, then you buy out my half of the house. If not, you know, advertise"—I glare at him—"I mean, find a lady and make it work, but the boys don't have to move. Meanwhile, you got the fam backing you. Enroll in Miami-Dade and get that paper. Live your life, son."
He pulls out his iPad and zooms in. "I been thinking. Look." He's bookmarked some houses and what they pay in rent for a four bedroom I'm payin for my two bedroom. "See how this works?"
"What's in this for you, son? I mean, how's this good for you?"
Thomas smiles. "I don't see me getting married. I got your sons if I wanna be Daddy and lots of ladies in Miami to keep my bed warm."
"Not around my sons, you don't."
He rolls his eyes. "I know. Imma help you raise 'em, which means they don't need to see how I advertise." I flop back on the sand and laugh. I'm never gonna live that down. "Plus, Dero's talking about retiring."
"Really?"
"Yeah. If he does, I know he'll apply to MDPD—"
"Not RangeMan?"
"Nah. It'll be MDPD or the FBI. Look, what I get out of this? Mi primo doing it big, raising my nephews, movin' on. You're not a hood anymore, son. That's not your identity anymore, so let it go. You're a young professional, single, successful, with two sons to raise. Tell me, if it was me, would you do this for me?"
Hell yeah. How can I help, son? I smile at Thomas, finally accepting that my cousin really means to help me. Aigh. I take his tablet and look at the houses he's got bookmarked. I'm seeing it. I'm seeing that I could live quiet in Miami, hustling, getting the boys what they need, making paper and moving on.
It's a nice life. I see how it could work.
I look over at my boys. They're building sandcastles and laughing, enjoying the Miami heat and sunshine with lots of their cousins to play with. Man, I love the fam in Brooklyn, but we were all hustlin' too hard to stay close. Down here, everyone's in and out of everyone else's house. Everyone knows everyone else's business (good and bad) and kids treat their tio's and tia's homes like it's just home. The month I was down here to protect the Boss Lady, I still had plenty of time to see the fam, catch up with everyone, and chill with Thomas and I loved it. I missed it when I got back to Brooklyn.
My princes need to be surrounded by the best if they're gonna take that next step and that includes lots of family. Lots of people to cheer 'em on when Daddy's gotta work late or needs some help. Lots of primos to play with and tios and tias to spoil 'em. Plus, Med's seen too much. He knows too much for an eight year old. Midi's still innocent but he won't stay that way for long if I don't get 'em out of the hood.
"You make arrangements to see some houses?"
"Which day you wanna go?"
—oOo—
I'm gawking. So are the boys. We decided to spend day three looking at places to live. Thomas called his contact and we on it.
"So, this is a four bedroom, three bathroom house in the much sought after Pembroke Pines area." Josh is the realtor RangeMan Miami uses so he knows what to show us. "The school system around here is highly ranked, making As on the FCAT statewide exams. This is a one year lease with option to renew, and lawn maintenance is covered in the lease."
"What's the rent?"
"$2,000."
"I shoulda left Brooklyn long ago," I mutter to Thomas, who looks unimpressed by the house. I don't see how. This is a fucking mansion! I could handle this rent by myself but Thomas is splitting it with me. He makes out like a bandit because his drops to $500 and mine doubles (rent control is beautiful) but if I agree to let him go 50-50 with me then I can pay him back for my lawyer faster.
"I won't say it."
"Thanks."
The boys are yelling for me to come look at the bathroom. It's huge, Daddy! Daddy, look at the kitchen! Daddy, can this be my room? We don't have enough shit to fill up a house like this! It's damn near 3,000 square feet! My apartment is barely 1,000 square feet!
Thomas is asking all the technical questions about HOAs and deposits. I'm trying put my blank face back in place. This is the eighth house we've looked at and I'm starting to understand what Thomas is on. I mean, just the idea of being able to put my sons in a home with grass to play in and a pool, tennis and basketball courts, and playgrounds in the community is making me feel big, like I'm doing it big for the boys. Then this place is in a good school district? Only negative is we would be kinda far from the fam, but a good school district is the most important thing to me. Not much else matters.
I check out the rooms and Thomas has already claimed the master. I smirk; it's got built-ins in the closet. Clotheshorse.
"The other master is on the other side of the house," Josh says.
Two masters? The boys run ahead of me to check it out and it's the same as the first. Big room, attached bath, built ins in the closet.
There is no reason for me not to do this, except that I need to know that Imma have the boys. I need to know that's gonna happen before I make big moves.
I look at Thomas and he jerks his head for me to follow him. "Sup?"
"Aigh, we'd need to get flood insurance and renter's insurance, but that's cool. All the appliances look good but we'll need furniture. I just realized neither of us really has any." I give him a 'Duh, son!' look. "Yeah, well, I eat at RangeMan. Having boys at home means cooking."
"I know. I cook, so I got that. Sounds like the boys need to learn to do chores." I look around. "Hell yeah. House this big? Chores, son. Earn that money. They've never hustled. Time to teach a hustler's ethic."
He strokes his chin and looks around. "I think we should move on this."
"I need the relocation order."
He sighs deep. "Son, I know that's stressing you, but think about this: If you get it, you need a place for them to lay their heads. If you don't, you need a place to lay yours."
"I can live at your place."
"True. But plan for the boys." He grips me by the shoulders. "Believe that the boys are gonna move with you. You got custody. Yala will see sense."
I raise a brow. Have you met my ex-wife, son? Yala does what's best for her.
He steps back. "Yo, we don't have to move on this place today. You'll be here for a minute. We got time."
Yeah, we got time. I don't have to do this today. We leave the house and tour the neighborhood, eventually walking by the pool. It's empty and the boys are looking at the pool hungry. They wanna jump in but it's fenced on all sides. I like that. Swimming lessons. Gotta get 'em in some swimming lessons.
"I gotta buy a car." He looks at me in surprise, then nods thoughtfully.
"Acura?"
I grin. "I miss it."
My Acura was my 'I made it' car but I have sons. Time for an SUV.
—oOo—
We get back to Thomas's apartment and I note it took 45 minutes. That's a helluva commute and traffic wasn't bad.
"Do we really need that much room?" I ask as we get the boys fed.
"No, but I told Josh to show us stuff in the best school districts. That's number one, right?" I nod then smile at Med, who is cutting his meat properly. Midi's struggling, so I help him a bit. "Yeah. Believe me, we could pay half the price for a smaller place closer to work but the schools are shit unless you get the boys into a charter or we go into the really expensive neighborhoods near the beach or near Coral Gables."
"Aigh. Not questioning where you picked, son. Just the size of those places. I mean, I'm thinking about AC bills."
Thomas pales. "Good point."
"Yeah. We rent. Let's talk grown man bills. What do people who own houses have to pay to own a house?" I shrug. "I don't know."
"Me neither but I know who does."
We finish dinner and the boys walk, zombie like, into the living room and fall asleep almost immediately. I clean the kitchen while Thomas puts everything away. We sit at the table again, me with my NYC folio, ready to take notes. Thomas pulls his phone and dials.
"Yo."
"Sup!" Mando. I thought he'd call tio Miguel.
"Yo, Mack and I are trying to find a house to rent—"
"He got the boys?"
"We're planning like he did."
"Lemme know so I can let the men know that we have a RangeMan in need."
"Thanks, Mando." Aigh, not bad so far.
"No problem. Welcome to Miami. We back each other here. Hold on, lemme get Mari." It's quiet for a moment and I hear a lady.
"Welcome to Miami, Mack! I can't wait to meet you."
Thomas grins big. Mari's fine as hell, son. Mando married a queen! he writes.
I chuckle. "I've heard a lot about you. Can't wait to meet you too."
"OK, so Mando says you guys are thinking of renting a house. Where are you looking?"
"I want the best schools for the boys. Wherever that is, that's where we're looking."
We spend an hour on the phone with Mari and Mando. They guide us through neighborhoods, tell us what websites to check, and tell us to read up on Florida landlord-tenant law.
"As far as bills? I'm telling you now, do not, under any circumstances, get a house larger than 2,000 square feet if you can possibly help it," Mando says.
"Why?" Everything we saw was 2000 or bigger.
Mari laughs. "I thought Mando was going to have a heart attack over the first AC bill we got when we moved into our first home. $500!"
My mouth drops. "Shit! I wouldn't blame him! That's rent, son!" Thomas shakes his head.
"Exactly!" Mando says. "You get the gorgeous house with the high ceilings and two story entry and you're paying to cool space you'll never use! Avoid high ceilings and check to see if your main rooms are south or west facing."
I'm writing everything he says. "What? Why?"
"Your main living rooms will feel hotter than every other room because the sun heated 'em all day. Since you spend most of your time in there, you'll cool the house for those rooms, then walk through the rest of the house and it's freezing! If you can get north or east facing rooms, that's best."
Damn! Thomas and I look at each other, amazed. Mando and Mari were the right people to call!
"Sign up for budget billing the first moment you can, get a programmable thermostat and always ask how old the AC system is. AC systems in Florida last six years average, ten max, because we run 'em year round. Ours was at end of life when we bought. $10,000 to replace it our second year. You won't have to pay for it, but if your landlord drags his feet replacing it, you're sweating until he does. Not the situation you want in the summer, trust me. Oh, and make sure your bedrooms have fans. Are you working with Josh?"
"Yeah."
"OK. He should show you good places, but that's our hard-won wisdom there."
"Oh! And check for HOAs, CDDs, and who is responsible for lawn maintenance," Mari says. "That's huge in Florida. And if there's a sprinkler system, test it before you move in. Oh, and be careful of standing bodies of water, like lakes, rivers, and pools."
"Mosquitoes," Thomas says. I write that down.
"Exactly! Make sure the neighborhood sprays for mosquitoes. You get a pool and you have to check for that yourself."
"Should we just look for a bigger apartment?" Thomas asks, looking overwhelmed.
They laugh. "No. There's nothing like walking into a house at the end of the day and knowing that you own it," Mando says.
"We won't own it."
"You own it," Mari says. "People who buy houses are just renting them from the bank because until they pay it off, it's still the bank's property. Miss a payment or two and the bank will file to kick you out like any other landlord. Never allow anyone to tell you different."
—oOo—
Christmas Day we pack the boys in the car and head over to Tio Miguel's. The boys are quiet, thinking all their presents are back in NYC and they'll just watch their cousins unwrap gifts.
Nah, son. Not your first Christmas with Daddy. I wouldn't front like that. Besides, this was the one day of the year when Yala and I didn't fight. It was all about the boys on Christmas and I was always invited over to be there when they unwrapped their gifts. Mommy might not be here this year, but Daddy came through.
They walk in and Tia Felicia is stuffing food in 'em quick, thumping Med's chest and calling him bony. Midi runs straight to my cousin Dero, who squeezes him tight. I hug him too. Haven't seen him in a minute.
"Sup, son!" Dero's a Marine and he's Thomas's brother. We don't see him a lot but he writes Midi and Med, sending them pics of where he's at. Midi is his godson and the connection Med and Thomas share? That's Midi and Dero. Thomas and Dero were there for my boys when I wasn't, helping Yala when I couldn't. Thomas and Dero are the only members of my family Yala never really yelled at.
Thomas and Dero don't play that yelling shit.
"Tio Dero, did you come to see me?" Midi asks.
"I did! I heard your Daddy was bringing you down here and I said, I gotta go see my Midi boy!" He puts his uniform cap of Midi's head and smiles at him. Midi looks a thousand times happier. "Med, come 'ere. 'Bout time you stopped drooling."
"I do not drool," he mutters, accepting a hug from Dero.
"I got pillows that say different," Thomas says, smiling.
I laugh and watch as Midi and Dero start talking. Dero walks the boys back into the kitchen and has breakfast with 'em, talking to Midi and Med and listening as Midi talks about how much he misses his mommy. My son wants Dero to help him with his letter to the judge man.
"I want Mommy to come home," he says, trying hard not to cry. His cousin Juan called him a crybaby. Med called Juan a crybaby after punching him in the nose.
"Then we'll write the best letter we can and we'll change that judge's mind, OK?" Dero says, smiling at him.
Midi sniffs and smiles back. I feel like shit that I haven't been able to make Midi feel better about what's happening and grateful Dero handled that for me. The kids rush the tree and Dero comes and stands by me against the wall, where I'm taking pictures.
"What's she looking at?" he asks quietly.
"Federal." He winces. "At least five."
"Fuck. Still, that's the minimum."
"Exactly." I face him. "Thanks. I … I don' t know how to make him feel better about it."
Dero looks over at Midi. "You can't. Daddy can't fix this and he's used to you fixing things. Only Yala can make this better and she hasn't, the selfish—"
My voice is ice-cold. "Still my ex-wife, son. Still his momma." Dero stiffens.
Thomas snorts. "Less loyalty, Mack. Please."
"Nah." I turn to him. "I once loved her. Would die for her. She had my babies. I don't know why shit went wrong between us but we will always have the boys to hold us together. They will never hear me say something wrong or mean about their Momma. Never."
Dero nods. "Fine. Onto something new. I heard about this sweet thing called Ms. Sexy …" he raises a brow. Thomas, on the other side of me, smirks.
"You and Thomas talk too much."
"We haven't begun to catch up. Also, I hear Med's come up with a new advertising scheme …"
Thomas cracks up. I know I'm turning red. Tio Miguel's been in front of us the whole time and he turns around smiling. "Gotta admit, the boy's creative. Get the right Speedos and his little scheme might work!"
Thomas falls to the floor laughing, Dero is snickering, and Med and I are gonna have that talk tonight. I'm saved when Med spots a wrapped gift under the tree that no one's picked up. He gasps. "This has my name on it!"
"Yeah? Who is it from?" I ask.
"Santa!"
Midi wiggles down out of Tia Felicia's lap and he and Med attack the tree, finding all their presents. I'm snapping pictures and laughing as they squeal. I sent the Christmas list to Thomas and he picked everything up for me and had it wrapped.
I got Med and Midi iPad Minis. I knew that's what Med wanted and if you buy for one, you gotta buy for the other. I got 'em new kicks and more clothes. Dero bought cameras and Thomas bought huge water guns, clothes, and new backpacks for each of 'em.
"Water guns are a Florida thing," he says, handing me a tiny cup of coffee. "They gotta have water guns." I'm almost sure this is Cuban coffee and, ten minutes later, I'm sure I'll never sleep again.
"Good idea," Dero says, smirking. "We can start working on marksmanship. Turn 'em into Marines."
"How 'bout we let 'em be boys for a while?"
Thomas and Dero snort.
"Daddy? There's envelope for you," Med says.
I frown. What? I take it from Med and open carefully. I read the contents, stand, and walk over to Tio Miguel.
"I need a moment to myself, tio."
"Use our bedroom, sobrino. Everything OK?"
I nod, my throat tight, and head to the back of the house. I close the door and drop to my knees.
—oOo—
"Yo, son, everything OK?" Dero slides into the room. I hear a second set of feet and look up to see Thomas.
I wipe my face and sit back. "You knew? The whole time?" He nods. "Thanks."
"For not telling you?"
"Yeah."
He exhales. "I was hoping you wouldn't be mad."
"I'm not."
"Shit, son, are you crying? What happened? Someone died?" Dero asks, looking at the two of us.
I hand Dero the envelope and try to finish my prayer. I don't think I've been near a Bible since I was in a diaper but I figure all He wants to hear is my thanks. If it's gotta be fancy, I'll have to redo this again later.
I hear Dero whistle. He throws his arm around me and squeezes hard.
"She really did it."
I nod.
She did.
Mamí broke Yala.
Yala signed over custody and she signed the relocation order. Javi faxed copies of everything and Thomas grabbed it and stuffed it in an envelope for me. The originals are coming via FedEx and should arrive tomorrow.
Merry Christmas to me.