Copyright © 2026 Shamar Phillips. All rights reserved. The Wife, The Bestie, & The Side Chick and its contents are the property of Shamar Phillips. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or republished without the author's permission.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pulling into the disconnected garage of his warehouse loft, Deon sat for a minute looking at his son, sound asleep in the passenger seat. He sent Rose a text, letting her know that he would drop him off tomorrow after work, and then he turned his phone off.

Jr. loved being at his dad's. He had all the room in the world to run around. He had his games and an enormous movie collection. A game room and a large swimming pool; all the things children loved in the world.

Deon designed the loft himself for him and his son. It took him two years to build it from the ground up. Five rooms with their own bathrooms, two guest bathrooms, a beautiful gourmet kitchen. A living room designed strictly for comfort, furnished with a sectional big enough for the tallest of NBA players. Two 72-inch flat screens on the walls—one for games, one for movies. A bar with an exceptional selection of top-shelf wines and liquors, and the pool was something straight out of a movie.

It was Olympic-size with a glass bottom, sectioned off with a jacuzzi. The lanai was laid with a top-of-the-line patio set. It was decorated with its own bar and grill, a hammock, and other expensive patio furniture. There was also a full basketball court and volleyball net. 

As soon as he set foot in the door, Jr. woke up smiling from ear to ear. It was as if he could smell it when he was at his dad's place.

"Get ready for a bath, kid. You got school tomorrow, so no staying up all night.”

"I know, Dad." 

Deon hung his keys on the key hook in the kitchen and grabbed a couple of plates for pizza while he played back the messages on his answering machine. Most of them were work-related. Being one of the top luxury home designers in South Florida brought him a significant amount of attention. Everything from magazine articles, interviews, and seminars for upcoming designers to commercials and appearances on TV shows whose main focus was on luxury home builders and buyers.

Many people from different states, and even countries, paid big bucks for his expertise when it came to designing and styling their dream homes. He loved his work. It kept him living the life he wanted to live without going back to the streets.

While he jotted down the names and numbers of potential clients from his answering machine, he heard a knock at the door. It was odd because no one knew where he lived, and the people who did never showed up without calling. He remembered his interaction with Ty at the ice cream parlor earlier and was instantly put on edge. Being an ex-con and nigga who would bust his gun if he had to, he was ready for whatever.

"Who is it?" He crept to the door with a gun in his hand.

Jr. came to the top of the stairs to see who it was, and Deon motioned for him to go back to his room. He saw a female standing with her back turned out of the peephole, looking like she was lost or something.

When she turned around, he let out a sigh of relief, dropped the gun to his side, and opened the door.

"I'm sorry, I noticed you heading my way on the way home, so I kind of followed you. Well, not really followed you because I live this way, but, you know. And your phone kept going to voicemail. I wanted to make sure you were ok. I'm sorry."

Nina stood at the door with a bottle of wine, hoping she hadn’t crossed the line.

"You live out here too?" Deon asked.

"Yep. Right around the corner, actually. The old castle-mansion, as they call it. I didn't know you… I mean, you don't look like the type to live this way."

Deon folded his arms across his chest as he looked her up and down. He wasn’t offended by her way of thinking—he was used to being judged.

"I get that a lot,” he said. “You should never judge a book by its cover.”

"Dad! Is it safe?” Jr. hollered from his room.

"Yeah!” Deon hollered back. “It’s just Nina."

"Hi Nina!" 

"He's so cute," she chuckled.

Realizing that he still had her standing outside, Deon stepped aside and finally let her in. He would have normally never let a stranger into his house while his son was there, but he trusted Nina.

"Yeah, That’s my lil’ man,” he said. “So, you say you live in the castle-mansion? The one with the crystal fountain out front?"

"Yep. That's the one.

She looked around his place while following him to the kitchen and was highly impressed with his layout. It was sleek; brilliantly put together, as her mother would say when she liked something.

"I know that place,” Deon said. “You want a drink? Pizza or something? We were just about to eat dinner and wind down."

"I think you trying to make me fat with all this fast food or something."

Deon laughed and invited her to sit at the island. Fat was something that looked impossible for Nina. Her body was tight and right, like it was her most prized possession.

"Shit, a body like yours don’t look easily tainted. If you do get fat, though, I know a few workouts we can do to get you back right."

While he got the glasses and ice for their drinks, Nina flipped through the stack of magazines sitting on the island beside her. She found it strange for a guy like Deon to be interested in architecture, design, and interior decorating. But like he said before, you should never judge a book by its cover.

"This is a badass crib,” she said. “I really, really dig it. My mom would’ve loved this place."

"Thanks. I designed it myself."

"Lies.” She looked shocked. “You did not. Really?"

"Yup. I dabble a little, here and there."

At the same time he spoke, Nina flipped the page in the magazine and saw his picture. The man had been branded by some of the most beautiful homes she'd ever seen. And since they were talking about home design, she could've sworn she’d heard her mother mention his name before.

"Wait a minute, you wouldn't happen to be the same Deon Montana who built my mother's house, would you?"

"I would.”

He spoke so humbly about his work that Nina almost didn’t believe him. But she knew he wasn’t lying, because the way her mother described him was exactly the way he was.

"I spent a lot of time with your mom, just trying to bring her vision to life. She was an amazing woman—always smiling and giving life lessons," he chuckled. “She even met my son when he was a baby. It took us years to finally get the place just the way she liked it. I was sad to hear about her passing. My condolences.”

Nina covered her mouth as tears ran down her face. She remembered her mother talking about how genuine a person Deon was and how he helped her find joy in her last years. He did more for her than just bring her idea to life; he gave her a new life in her last moments.

She remembered that on some of the toughest, most painful days, her mother would get on the phone with him and just laugh, and by the end of their conversation, it was like she'd forgotten all about the pain she was in.

When Deon noticed that Nina was crying, he came around the island and put his arms around her. And for once in a long time, she felt her mother’s embrace. 

"Your mom was a cool lady,” he said. “I bet she looking down right now, wondering how the hell we ended up together.”

Nina held onto him tightly, savoring his words and the warm feeling she missed so much. She didn’t want to speak; she didn’t want to think. All she wanted was to feel that moment for the rest of her life.