Free His Last Name by Daaimah S. Poole Page A

Gloria some money . . .”
    We waited and waited. Finally the seven million dollars appeared in his account. It was an indescribable feeling to know that you would never have any more worries in life.
    I made one phone call to my job. It was official—I could quit. I said something like, “I won’t be returning.” My manager said he understood and asked if I could get him tickets when we played the 76ers. I told him I would.
    â€œMom, let’s go; the sales guy is waiting on me. I already talked to him. He knows who I am and told me to come through,” Kadir said.
    â€œHold up, Kadir. You need to pray and then check your list again.”
    â€œI did, Mom, and the first thing on my list is to buy myself a car. Let’s go get it.”
    â€œRight this moment?”
    â€œYes.”
    Kadir didn’t even let me grab a jacket. He picked up his ID and ran to the car. I texted Carl and told him we had the money. He just texted back “Good,” and said that he would call us on his lunch break. I got in the car, and Kadir was on the phone with Faheem. He told him we were on our way to the dealership.
    â€œSo, how does it feel?” I joked with my boy millionaire.
    â€œI don’t know yet. I will let you know when I’m behind the wheel of my new car. Now, chauffeur, to the dealership,” he joked as he put on his sunglasses.
    â€œKadir, you can’t go Hollywood on me.”
    â€œYes, I can. What’s your name again?” He laughed and gave me a side hug. “But seriously, Mom, thank you for having my back and making sure I went to practice even when I didn’t want to.”
    â€œYou’re welcome, Ka.”
    â€œMom, remember the time you drove two hours to Delaware, so I could play in my lucky t-shirt?”
    â€œYes, I remember you called me crying. I think I still have that dingy thing with the yellow armpit stains. But you have to be proud of yourself, Kadir. You made all of this happen. You believed in yourself, didn’t give up, worked hard, and look, you made it. I’m proud of you, Ka.”
    â€œThanks, Ma.”
    â€œI just want you to pray, remain humble, and when you get on that floor at the arena, just let them know that you belong and that you are just as good as they are.”
    â€œI will. I’m going to make you proud, Mom.”
    Whoever said money isn’t everything was a goddamn liar. It changes what kind of car you drive and what zip code you live in. It also changes the way people treat you. Kadir had been doing a lot of interviews with the local news stations and everyone was making a really big deal over him. More and more people were asking for his autograph. When we went to the bank, the tellers’ eyes widened and their smiles became huge. And the bank managers—men twice Kadir’s age—started calling him “sir.” Then you also had people who you don’t know, but who know you. I bought Kadir about a hundred condoms and let him know I was too young, hot, and poppin’ to be anyone’s grandmother and to be careful of all of the girls he was meeting.
    After Kadir got his G-Wagon, he bought himself two more cars: a white and blue i8 BMW and a black-on-black Range Rover with custom rims. He said they were his night and day cars, and he would drive his wagon when he was going out. He also treated himself to a diamond-encrusted Rolex watch that cost thirty thousand dollars. While we were in the jewelry store, he treated me to a diamond necklace and earring set. I was happy, but Carl thought he was spending too much money too fast. I didn’t agree. He worked hard and deserved to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Kadir could get the excessive spending out of his system and save the rest of his career. I wouldn’t let him go too crazy, but he could have a few shopping sprees. We found a seven-bedroom home with a pool house just outside of Charlotte. It was a rental, but it had