Coming from a life of drugs, money, and women, Michael "Meechie" Jackson had the world in the palm of his hands. He had power and his business, which he built from the ground up, morphed him into one of the most well-known drug lords in the city.
I...
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That was the only response Michael received from Lance two days after reaching out. He tried calling again but was forward to voicemail. Although unfortunate, he gave Charleigh a call with an update. All she could say was, "baby, you tried." As always, he gave Lance space and patiently waited his return call or message. He didn't dwell on the matter much longer, especially when it was his and Irish's anniversary. Not completely putting the matter aside, he was on standby just in case.
With today being so important as it was, so much was planned to make it the most memorable. Michael was so over the top; he got a rush from outdoing himself when it came to his wife for special occasions or just because. This afternoon, he prepared a small brunch and her first gift awaited her in the living area. He never thought once about doing this particular thing before but decided to take a chance at it. He hired help due to the fact he had no clue of what he would be doing, but he felt if he done it himself it would be more intimate opposed to sending her out for a booked appointment.
He wanted to cater to her and took it up a notch. He could only imagine the look that would display on her visage when she walked in; he anticipated it. Everything was set up perfectly as he and Mei-Hua chatted. He knew Mei-Hua very well when he would visit L.A. Most men may find it as emasculation but for him, it was simply self care. He liked having polished looking hands and feet and found nothing wrong with a man being pampered when it called for it. There were a plethora of times he and Irish went to the spa together—bonding. It wasn't always a common sight for people to witness; however, it was endearing.
"Knowing Irish, she might go for this white polish," Michael said, toying with the many colors of gel nail polish.
"A lot of women do," Mei-Hua replied, chuckling. "It's a go to standard. What color you said her dress was?"
"Gold. I'm wearing all black."
"Hm," she hummed in thought, browsing the nail polish on the portable nail table station. "I think the white will clash. To be safe, french tip will do better or an ombré french tip. Not too much white but the perfect blend of a natural nail bed color to go with the gold and black ensemble."
"I like that ombré idea better," he said. "I think that will be a better fit. We'll see what she want when she comes."
Right on cue, Irish came ambling into the living room. "Baby, I'm sorry for sleeping in late. I was really tired last night. I was gonna—" Her mouth fell opened as she stopped dead in her tracks at the set up.
From the nail station to the foot spa bath massager to the brunch, she was at loss for words. Just as he predicted, her face was blanketed in surprise with one hand over her belly and the other going to cover her mouth. It was easy to tell that she was smiling just by the twinkle in her amber orbs.
