Unhidden

Chapter Two-Jamal

Jamal Akeem Carter had been born into a life most people would have killed for.

Money.

Power.

A name that opened doors.

A family whose influence stretched far beyond the city they lived in.

The Carter name meant something.

And his father had made damn sure everyone knew it.

Akeem Famineu Carter was one of the most powerful Black businessmen in the state.

His name appeared in newspapers.

His companies appeared on television.

Politicians shook his hand.

Governors attended his events.

Businessmen who had once ignored him suddenly returned his calls.

And now, after decades of building an empire, Akeem Carter had expanded into politics.

His father was no longer simply a businessman.

He was becoming a political figure.

Which, according to his mother, was a disaster waiting to happen.

“You know what politics does to wealthy families,” his mother had told him once.

Jamal had laughed.

“Mom, we’re already wealthy.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

She had looked at him over the rim of her wineglass.

“They start looking.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

That was the problem.

Everyone was always looking.

The Carter Group of Companies was enormous.

Technology.

Mining.

Real estate.

Energy.

Logistics.

Financial investments.

Construction.

Hospitality.

Private equity.

The Carter family had their hands in almost everything.

And Jamal’s father had built much of it from the ground up.

Their family was part of that tiny percentage of Black families people referred to as the one percent.

Old money mixed with new money.

Sophistication.

Private schools.

International vacations.

Charity galas.

Private jets.

Expensive cars.

Security.

Staff.

Properties in places Jamal had sometimes forgotten he even owned.

They had everything.

Except, apparently, the freedom to embarrass the family.

That was the one luxury Jamal couldn’t afford.

He stepped through the front doors of the Carter estate shortly after midnight.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

He immediately knew something was wrong.

The main hallway was dimly lit, but his mother’s favorite lamp was still on in the sitting room.

Jamal stopped.

No.

Absolutely not.

He looked toward the staircase.

Maybe he could sneak upstairs.

Maybe—

“Jamal.”

He closed his eyes.

Of course.

His mother.

He turned slowly.

“Mom.”

Nadine Carter sat elegantly on the sofa.

Even at midnight, she looked immaculate.

Her silk robe was perfectly arranged, her hair flawless, and there was a cup of tea sitting beside her.

She didn’t look like a woman who had been waiting for her son to come home.

She looked like a woman who had been waiting to interrogate him.

“Where have you been?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“With friends.”

Her eyebrow lifted.

“Which friends?”

Jamal sighed.

“Mom.”

“Jamal.”

There it was.

The Carter interrogation.

He walked into the room.

“I’m twenty-six.”

“I am aware.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I am also aware.”

“Then why are you waiting up for me?”

“Because you’re my son.”

He looked at her.

She smiled sweetly.

It was the kind of smile that made him nervous.

“Come sit.”

“Mom—”

“Sit.”

Jamal sat.

Nadine studied him for several seconds.

“You look tired.”

“I’m tired.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Mom.”

She laughed softly.

“You are so difficult.”

“I wonder where I got that from.”

“Certainly not me.”

Jamal smiled.

For all the pressure his mother put on him, she was different from his father.

Nadine Carter could be soft.

She could be warm.

She could also push him into a corner so gracefully that he wouldn’t realize he had been cornered until there was nowhere left to go.

She loved him.

He knew that.

His mother loved all her children fiercely.

But she also believed in the Carter legacy.

She believed in appearances.

She believed in family.

And sometimes Jamal wondered whether she would still look at him the same way if he told her the truth.

I’m gay.

The words lived inside his head.

They had lived there for years.

Sometimes they came dangerously close to his lips.

But they never made it out.

Because then there was his father.

Akeem Famineu Carter.

His father was a difficult man.

Extremely difficult.

A man who could make an entire boardroom go silent with one look.

A man who believed excellence was the minimum requirement.

A man who could congratulate his son and criticize him in the same breath.

His father had raised him to believe that a Carter man didn’t fail.

A Carter man didn’t embarrass his family.

A Carter man protected the family name.

And, most importantly—

A Carter man did what was expected of him.

Jamal knew exactly what his father thought about gay men.

He had heard it growing up.

He had heard the comments.

The jokes.

The dismissive remarks.

His father’s Nigerian heritage was important to him.

His father’s beliefs were deeply rooted in tradition, masculinity, family and religion.

To Akeem Carter, homosexuality was something that simply did not belong in the life of a Black man.

Especially not his son.

Especially not a Carter.

Jamal had never forgotten one particular conversation.

He had been seventeen.

His father had been watching television when a story about a gay celebrity came on.

His father’s expression had hardened.

“That is not how a man is supposed to live.”

Jamal had been sitting across from him.

He remembered the way his heart had dropped.

He remembered pretending not to care.

Pretending he wasn’t listening.

Pretending that the words weren’t slicing straight through him.

Because by seventeen, Jamal already knew.

He knew exactly who he was.

He had known for years.

And he was terrified.

Not because he was ashamed of himself.

He wasn’t.

He was ashamed of what his family might do with the truth.

There was a difference.

He loved his family.

That was the problem.

If he hated them, perhaps leaving would have been easy.

But he didn’t.

He loved his mother.

He loved his brother.

And despite everything, he loved his father.

That made everything harder.

His older brother, Malik Akeem Carter, was thirty-four.

Malik was the Vice President of Carter Group.

Jamal was the CEO of one of the group’s largest technology divisions.

Their father liked to joke that he had created his own succession plan without having to search for one.

Malik was the polished one.

Disciplined.

Strategic.

Always calm.

Always perfectly dressed.

Always exactly where their father expected him to be.

Jamal was different.

He was more unpredictable.

More private.

More emotional than he allowed people to see.

But he was just as ambitious.

His father never let him forget that.

And neither did Malik.

Their relationship was complicated.

Sometimes they were brothers.

Sometimes they were competitors.

Sometimes they were best friends.

And sometimes Jamal wasn’t sure what they were.

But Malik was one of the few people in the family who could tell when Jamal was lying.

Which made him dangerous.

Because Jamal had been lying for years.

He had been lying about where he went.

Who he loved.

Why he smiled at his phone.

Why he sometimes disappeared for hours.

Why he refused every marriage suggestion his father made.

And why he never seemed interested in the women his mother introduced him to.

His father had turned Jamal’s unmarried status into a personal crisis.

At twenty-six, Jamal was apparently running out of time.

“You’re living in this house.”

His father’s words echoed in his head.

“You are not moving out.”

Jamal had stared at him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re unmarried.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.”

“I can afford my own place.”

“I know.”

“Then why can’t I have one?”

“Because you’re my son.”

That was Akeem’s answer to everything.

Because you’re my son.

So Jamal still lived at home.

The CEO of a major technology company.

A grown man.

Still living under his parents’ roof.

And his mother monitored him like a private investigator.

Sometimes he genuinely wondered if she had people tracking his car.

Tonight, however, she seemed unusually quiet.

“You’re smiling,” Nadine said.

Jamal blinked.

“What?”

“You were smiling when you walked in.”

His heart stopped.

He looked away.

“Was I?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I’m just happy.”

“About what?”

He smiled faintly.

“Nothing.”

His mother studied him.

“Is there someone?”

Jamal nearly choked.

“No.”

“That was a very quick answer.”

“Because there’s no one.”

She stared at him.

Jamal held his breath.

Then she smiled.

“Your father will be pleased.”

“Why?”

“Because he thinks you’ve finally started dating.”

Jamal almost laughed.

If only they knew.

If only his mother knew that the person who had been making him smile for three years was a man.

Andre.

Andre Alex Hamilton Jr.

His Dre.

The thought of him softened something in his chest.

Dre was everything Jamal wasn’t.

Open.

Confident.

Fearless.

Strong.

Warm.

And ridiculously handsome.

Jamal had never understood how one man could look that good and still somehow have such a gentle heart.

Andre was the sexiest Black man he had ever seen.

And somehow, despite all of Jamal’s complications, Andre had chosen him.

For three years.

Three years.

That fact sometimes overwhelmed Jamal.

Because Andre could have had anyone.

He could have had a man who wasn’t hiding.

A man who could take him out openly.

A man who could wake up beside him every morning.

A man who didn’t have to leave before sunrise.

Instead, he chose Jamal.

And Jamal knew that wasn’t fair.

Tonight especially.

He knew Andre had been hurt.

He had seen it in his eyes before he left.

Please stay.

The words still echoed in Jamal’s head.

Jamal swallowed.

He had wanted to stay.

God knew he had wanted to.

He wanted to wake up beside Andre.

He wanted to fall asleep with Andre’s arms around him.

He wanted ordinary things.

Breakfast together.

Grocery shopping.

Random kisses in public.

Holding hands.

Introducing Andre as his boyfriend without worrying about who was watching.

He wanted a life.

A real one.

But wanting something and being brave enough to claim it were two different things.

Jamal finally stood.

“I’m going upstairs.”

His mother nodded.

“Good night.”

“Good night, Mom.”

He took two steps.

“Jamal?”

He stopped.

“Yes?”

Her voice softened.

“I love you.”

His chest tightened.

“I love you too.”

He walked upstairs.

The moment his bedroom door closed, Jamal leaned against it.

He exhaled.

Then reached for his phone.

Andre’s name was already on his screen.

Jamal stared at it.

He knew Andre was upset.

He knew he had every right to be.

But he also knew one thing with absolute certainty.

He loved that man.

More than he knew how to explain.

Jamal pressed the call button.

Andre answered after three rings.

“Hey.”

His voice was low.

Cold.

Jamal winced.

“Hey, baby.”

Silence.

“I told you I’d call.”

“I know.”

“You sound angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“You are.”

“I’m tired, Jamal.”

That hurt.

Jamal sat on the edge of his bed.

“I’m sorry.”

Another silence.

Then Andre sighed.

“I love you.”

Jamal closed his eyes.

“I love you too.”

“I just wish loving you didn’t always feel like I’m losing you.”

Jamal’s eyes burned.

He swallowed hard.

“Dre…”

“I’m not asking you to tell the world tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“I’m just asking you to stop making me feel like I’m something you have to hide.”

Jamal couldn’t answer.

Because that was exactly what he was doing.

Not because he was ashamed of Andre.

Never.

He was hiding Andre because he was terrified of what would happen if his family knew.

Terrified of what his father would say.

Terrified of what his mother would think.

Terrified of what his brother would do.

Terrified of what would happen to the Carter name.

But beneath all that fear was another truth.

He was terrified of losing everything.

His family.

His career.

His inheritance.

His place in the family.

And most terrifying of all—

Andre.

Because if Jamal told the truth and everything fell apart, he wasn’t sure whether Andre would still be there when the pieces stopped falling.

“I love you,” Jamal whispered again.

“I know.”

“I really do.”

“I know, baby.”

Jamal closed his eyes.

For the first time that night, he let himself imagine it.

A life where he didn’t have to lie.

A life where Andre didn’t have to leave.

A life where he could wake up beside the man he loved and simply say—

Good morning, my love.

No fear.

No secrets.

No Carter family watching.

Just them.

Jamal opened his eyes.

Maybe one day.

Maybe.

But tonight, he was still a Carter.

And tomorrow morning, his father would still expect him to sit at the breakfast table like nothing in the world was wrong.

So Jamal did what he had become very good at doing.

He swallowed his truth.

And kept living.