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“Don’t bother with that. Come back to work for me. I still haven’t found a secretary as good as you.” Dad walks over to me and kisses my temple.
“You mean you haven’t found another secretary who will work for free.”
“What are you talking about? I paid you by keeping a roof over your head and food in your stomach.” He booms out a laugh.
“Exactly. Do you know how many labor laws you broke?”
Mom sets a cutting board on the counter and poises a knife over sandwich meat. “Ignore him. Your father’s plan is to do all he can to get you girls home.”
Yaya’s footsteps make us all turn.
“Why did the party move into the kitchen without me?” she signs.
Mom sets the knife down. “Your father is on Dejonae’s case again.”
Yaya tilts her head and gives dad a warning look.
He throws up his hands as if to say ‘I’m innocent’.
“Deej is going to be a famous songwriter,” Yaya signs. “Don’t get in her way.”
“Thank you.” I toss her a knowing grin.
“I got your back,” she gestures.
“Have you worked on any new songs lately?” mom asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve been too busy with school and looking for a job, but now that I’m working again, I’ll get back to it.”
“How about you, Yaya?” Dad signs. “Any new gigs after that Macy’s catalogue?”
She scrunches her nose. “Not yet.”
“It’ll pick up,” I sign.
She gives me a grateful smile.
Mom slides a finished sandwich over to Yaya. Then she turns her pretty brown eyes on me.
Everyone says we get our good looks from her. Mom is one of those classic beauties with finely arching eyebrows, sultry brown eyes, and perfect, Cupid’s bow lips. Dad used to joke that she was drunk when she fell for him.
“Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want something?” mom insists.
“I’m okay.”
Dad opens a pack of chips and sets it on the counter between us. I nab one because I’m my father’s daughter and I can’t say no to cheese-dusted goodness.
Yaya fishes in her pocket and slides her phone over to me. I peer over the counter and nearly choke when I see a picture of me and Vanya.
It’s from the day I met Niko in the alley.
Vanya’s wearing her fancy blue dress and I look like a bum in my old sneakers, T-shirt and jeans.
“Have some water, sugar.” Dad cracks a can of root beer, his version of ‘water’ and shoves it at me.
I gulp it down, cringing when the acid burns the back of my throat.
Yaya gives me an excited look. “You’re still hanging out with Vanya Beckford?”
