37

He’s probably seeing her again, Harlem thought to herself. She didn’t want to think about it, but the thought of Head with Cartier tore her up inside. She was completely in love with him and she didn’t want to lose him—not to Cartier, Pebbles, or anyone. Harlem wanted to be the primary woman in Head’s life. She and Mandy had given birth to his children, but she gave birth to his son, Henry Jackson, Jr. She was happy living in Flint, but she seethed when Head was away.

While he was gone, Harlem was holding down the fort. With Head away, the atmosphere on the compound suddenly shifted and changed. Though she was a sister wife and Head preached to them about unity and togetherness, Harlem treated the other girls like dirt when he wasn’t around to see.

The girls were in the basement processing the drugs, cutting up the cocaine, and packaging the heroin and pills for distribution while Harlem was coordinating the drug runs. It was a business she felt proud to be in charge of. She had come a long way from being an escort for Esmeralda, and she wasn’t going backwards. Though she owed Cartier a lot, she wanted to be in her shoes. Harlem wanted to become like Cartier—but a better version of her.

Harlem made sure the kids were studying and that the house was spotless. She made sure Mandy, Kandy, Melissa, and Jacki performed their daily duties. She did everything Head demanded of her, and she felt overlooked by him. She was a new mom and no longer wanted to share Head. She became more vocal when brokenhearted.

When Head returned to the compound, she could tell that he had a lot on his mind.

“You look stressed out, Daddy. Let me make things better for you,” said Harlem, ready to please him in any fashion and help him unwind from his trip to New York.

“I’m fine,” he replied, not wanting to be bothered.

“Well, everything’s been taken care of. During your absence, I had everything moving smoothly.”

He ignored her statement as he sat in his armchair and threw back a shot of vodka.

“She wants a divorce,” he blurted out.

“Isn’t that good news, Daddy?” Harlem said brightly.

Once again, he ignored her and continued to think about something. She hoped it wasn’t about Cartier.

“I’m not giving her a divorce. She’s my wife and she will always be my wife,” he said.

“You should give her what she wants. We don’t need her. You have me, Daddy. I’m here for you twenty-four seven. I can take care of all of your wants and needs. I can easily take her place and treat you so much better.”

Head snorted. In his book, Harlem wasn’t even runner-up. She was tied in third place with Jacki.

“I love you, Daddy. I do, and together, we can do whatever we want out there. It’s your world, Daddy. It is. I believe in you,” she said.

Head turned to look at her and coldly responded with, “Stop with that Daddy bullshit! You sound like a whore!”

“Yes, Malachi,” she replied quickly.

“And stop tryin’ so fuckin’ hard. You ain’t her. You never gonna be her!”

Head had this wild look in his eyes that began to frighten Harlem.

“I wish I could erase all y’all bitches—the kids too—and memories and all this fuckin’ foolishness. Fuck it! I would do anything to get her back into my life. I took this shit too far! This fake-ass King Solomon bullshit!”

Head flung the vodka bottle across the room, and it crashed against the wall. Glass and liquid splattered everywhere.

His response shocked Harlem. It was hurtful. Still being subservient she asked, “Do you want me to clean that up?”

“I want you outta my fuckin’ face, outta my fuckin’ life. If I wake up tomorrow and never see you again, please know that I will give no fucks.”

It was apparent to Harlem that she would never take Cartier’s place and she would never have Head’s heart the way Cartier did. They had history. Harlem quietly walked away, refusing to allow him to see her cry.