He slid into the booth across from me, a smirk on his face.
“There you go again, assuming you know me.”
I shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot just being around you, Mekhi.”
“Same,” he admitted.
I had picked my sandwich up, but I set it back down as I looked at him. “What have you learned about me?”
He sat back and grinned at me, a bottle of water in his hand.
“Now, if I say some shit like you got some good ass pussy, you gon’ be mad.”
Narrowing my eyes, I kicked him under the table.
“Ugh! You so?—”
He chuckled. “Nah, I’ve learned you pretty cool. Not as stuck up as I thought. You serious about your goals, and you really love that shit you studying—I saw that in that museum. And you got a little thug in you. Still hard-headed, though, annoying ass.”
I pressed my lips together, hiding my smile.
“You’re all right, too.”
“Shiiiit, I swear you think I’m better than ‘all right’ when you got them thighs locked around me.”
I felt heat redden my cheeks, and I glared at him.
“You’re not supposed to bring that up, not in public anyway.”
“So, I guess I shouldn’t say I love the way you say my name when I’m deep in that?—”
“Mekhi!”
I knew he was trying to embarrass me on purpose, but it was still working. My eyes darted around, trying to see if anybodywas listening. Thankfully, no one was sitting too close to us. He was smiling hard as hell, though.
“Just eat,” I mumbled.
He reached over and tugged on one of my curls. “Yes, ma’am.”
I drummedmy fingers on the tabletop impatiently, waiting for my mother to join me in the kitchen. It was too damn quiet for all the shit tumbling through my mind, just the hum of the fridge and the tick of an old wall clock I still hadn’t gotten rid of. Farrah was at the library, and Jarrell had taken Khayla somewhere. This was as private as we were going to get, and I needed privacy just in case I exposed my mother was flaw. She strolled in a minute later, pretty and polished as usual. Gillian had always kept herself up, but back in the day, when we were struggling, her pretty had grown a hard edge, a little desperation, like she knew it was the main thing she had going for herself. I’d been able to give her a soft life, and it showed. I was proud of that.
I just hoped she deserved it.
Walking over, she planted a kiss on my forehead before taking the seat across from me where I had set her favorite tea and some kind of muffin Farrah had made. Gillian smiled as she settled in her chair. She took a tentative sip of her tea, then stared at me.
“What’s up, favorite son?” she asked, her voice light, teasing.
She had no idea what was about to come, but my silence started to reveal it. Her smile shrank slowly, like some exotic flower deprived of the light.
“Mekhi–”
I wasted no more time getting to the point. The sooner I laid it out there, the sooner I might have answers.
“Some nigga named Trell wants me gone.”
She set the teacup down with more force than necessary, her brown eyes suddenly hard. “What you need me to do? You know whatever it is–”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know who the nigga is.”
