“The next timeyou eventhinkabout taking my car, I’m gon’ fuck you up. You may be my son, but that shit wasn’t cool.”
My mama was pissed. She’d never really threatened me in that manner. She was always my lifesaver. Shit, I was thirty-two years old and never wanted for a thing. She was a world-renown criminal defense attorney. Even celebrities sought her out for her expertise in the law. She was on her shit. My dad owned his own accounting firm. The nigga was a beast with numbers and shit and also had celebrity clients. He’d threatened me a million times and took me to this fucking drug dealer to be his mule. Scared the fuck out of me when I was fifteen years old.
“I’m sorry, Ma. For real.”
My dad shook his head. “Nigga, when Corey told me he saw you in that Maserati, I almost called the police on your ass and reported that shit stolen. You gon’ have to get your shit together,Graham. You too old for bullshit like this. A simple phone call or text, asking permission, would have eliminated all this.”
“I said I apologize.”
I turned to walk out of their house, but my dad stopped me.
“We spoiled you, but you too grown to blame your childhood upbringing anymore. You don’t listen, and that shit gon’ get you in more trouble than a little bit. Your mama ain’t gon’ always be there to bail your ass out.”
I lowered my head and took a deep breath, knowing he was right. “You right. The dealership is coming to pick me up so I can get my car. They are probably outside now.”
He extended his hand, and I shook it. The frown on his face let me know just how serious he was. Devin Taylor didn’t frown unless he was angry. He was a jokester . . . a corny ass jokester. I knew I had better take heed before he hung me out to dry. Their support meant everything, and their money afforded my current lifestyle.
They had a lot of money, but I also made my own money. I was working at a refinery in Baytown, but I hated that fucking job. I’d gotten a master’s degree in chemical engineering, but I wished I had pursued something else.
Before leaving, I asked, “Dad, are y’all still investors in Premier Wings Airlines?”
He frowned slightly. “Yeah. Why?”
I shrugged. “I’m just considering my options. I honestly hate the refinery.”
“That’s cause yo’ ass is a pretty boy.”
My eyebrows lifted. “As if you’re one to talk!”
“Nigga, that’s how I know!”
I laughed and slowly shook my head. “I might apply for a job with them. It depends on the positions they have open. I don’t want to do no maintenance or no shit like that. I want to be amongst the people.”
He nodded. “You know I can probably get you in there. Your aunt Sonya is a member, and so is Shane and Sharee.”
“I don’t know about that. You know Aunt Sonya don’t too much care for me.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s something you need to make right. You know she petty. I don’t think you’ve ever apologized to her. You were a teenager, but you definitely knew better. Grown men don’t avoid shit. They take accountability for their actions and do their best to rectify them. You’ve been grown for a long time now.”
I huffed loudly. Aunt Sonya was so fucking fine. I used to fantasize about her and gave her creep vibes when I was younger. Technically, I wasn’t blood related. Devin and Sidney Taylor adopted me when I was a baby, but the Taylors were the only family that I knew. I felt like that was part of the reason why they spoiled me.
Secondly, I almost died from a Tylenol overdose as a baby as well. That didn’t help things. Dad said my mama was ready to burn Beaumont to the ground trying to figure out who had her fucked up. It all came out that my Aunt Shannon was too busy getting her pussy sucked, not paying attention to my cousin, Chloe, who gave me a lot of Tylenol because I was crying. She didn’t know any better. She was only like five or so at the time.
I nodded at my dad again and shook his hand. “I’ll eventually talk to her. Make sure my funeral arrangements are paid up.”
He laughed loudly and pushed me on the shoulder. Shiiiid, he was laughing, but I was serious as hell. That woman didn’t give a fuck about me. I actually felt that Uncle Shawn and my cousins didn’t give a fuck about me either. The only cousin I talked to was Cooper. Nicholas and I used to be cool, but even as kids, he stopped wanting to be around me. Uncle Corey wasn’t feeling him being at our house anymore either.
Damn. Am I really that bad of a person?
After getting into the car waiting for me, I greeted the driver, then pulled out my cell phone. Looking at Uncle Shawn’s phone number, I took in a nervous breath, then sent him a text.
What’s up, Uncle Shawn? It’s Graham. I need to talk to you and Aunt Sonya. Are y’all free next weekend?
What’s up, man? We’re free. You coming out here? We can’t talk by phone?
I closed my eyes for a moment and slowly shook my head. It was time to grow up, at least where it concerned my family.
I would rather do it in person. It’ll just be me.
