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if Cartier gives you any trouble, just call me and I’ll straighten her right out.”
    Embarrassed by her mother’s antics, Cartier quickly snapped her mother out of her foolish behavior.
    “Ma, stop actin’ like you ain’t used to shit!”
    “Look, I don’t got to put on airs for no muthafuckin’ body. I’m keepin’ it real. I ain’t used to shit like this here, and neither are you. So kiss my ass!” Trina grinned.
    As Trina got settled, Jason took Cartier upstairs to their master bedroom suite, which had all the amenities as Trina’s but much more. There was a granite wet bar and French doors that led to a deck overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The butter-colored sand below blew Cartier’s mind. She’d never heard of Long Beach, though it was located right under her nose.
    “How did you find this place?”
    “This realtor put me on. Yo, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you had to say, and as a man, and your husband, I’ll be the first to admit, you were right. I was thinking, if I’ma get at these niggas, I can’t have my family at the front line. That was my first thought. My second thought was about that Mari shit.”
    Cartier rolled her eyes, her stomach churning. She didn’t want to think about her. Especially at Christmas. But if there was one thing she knew about her husband, he would always try to right the wrong. And she was sure this was his apology.
    Jason continued, “You had every right to leave me, but you didn’t. And I know I keep fucking up. But what I’m trying to say is, here I was, like a stupid muthafucka, paying five large for this bitch rent, dropping a few pennies on a couple shopping sprees, when I got you and my kids living in a dump—”
    “I hate when you try to come clean and confess to shit that’s late. Nigga, I know you was tricking on that bitch. What makes you think I wanna hear about it now, on Christmas? You think I want that bitch to steal my joy?”
    “See, you not getting me. That’s my point. I’m trying to tell you I see the error of my ways, and that you and the kids, and Trina, y’all my family, and from here on out y’all come first.”
    Cartier wanted to argue some more, but what was the point? What do you say to your husband who speaks so casually about cheating, and then has the nerve to say in your face not only did he cheat, but that he’d dropped coin on his mistress? She decided to live in the now and enjoy the beautiful home she and her family deserved.
    “So you’re finally ready to get at those niggas?”
    “I been ready.” Jason scratched the side of his unshaven beard. “Now that we got this hideaway, my mind will be at ease about the kids. But I still want Trina to keep her crib as a decoy. I want the hood to think we’re still there.”
    “That’s a good look,” Cartier said. “But for now let’s not talk about murders and mistresses and just enjoy Christmas.”
    “Of course, we gonna enjoy our Christmas, but we got to agree on one thing. And drink it in before you comment. As I just said, I’m maturing and so should you.”
    “What is it?”
    “No one, I mean no one, can know where we live. Not your little girlfriends, and none of my peeps. The only person who gets a pass is Janet. She literally our blood. But other than that, we can’t put our lives or our kids’ lives in jeopardy. And I know you trust your girls with your life, but females talk too much, and they might say something around the wrong person. So, please, obey me on this rule.”
    Cartier thought about his request. “Well, what will I tell them?”
    “Tell them the truth . . . that your husband said they’re not welcome.”
    “I won’t say that, but I will tell them something.”
    A few minutes later everyone got a present they weren’t expecting.
    “Merry Christmas,” Cartier sang into the telephone.
    “Get to the hospital now. She’s awake . . .”
    You could hear the excitement through the telephone when Janet called.
    “Ma!” Cartier