Page 59 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

Chapter Seventeen

Jucee

Family Feud

If it was in my DNA to be a heartless bitch, I would’ve cut every single Thomas off with no explanation like my name was MCI. Unfortunately, I was Juleesa Marie Jones, and I was raised better than that. I had to end things amicably because these were good people, and despite how shitty things were with me and Poppa, I loved them. Not only that, but they loved me back, and that counted for something. It wasn’t enough to make me stick around, but it was worth at least letting them know face-to-face.

Well, I didn’t have it in me to speak to all of them. Just thinking about talking to Carissa about this made my knees shake a lil bit—but the one person I absolutely had to talk to was Nana Cherry.

I hated it and I knew Amani would hate it, but I felt like I didn’t have a choice. Nana Cherry narrowed her shrewd gaze on me.

“What did I tell you when you first started coming around here and you mentioned that you were having a hard time finding affordable care for that boy?”

Her gaze was hard but kind, yet it didn’t make me feel any better. One thing I didn’t do was hang out with the family of my exes. Even with Samir. We ended things and stayed friends, and yet I never went to the birthday parties or barbecues that they still invited me to. It didn’t feel right. So, why would I start doing that now? If me and Poppa—Cyndi—were done, then I had to be done with her family too. One band, one sound.

Did you forget that Poppa isn’t your ex or...?

A smug voice whispered those words from the back of my mind, and I could’ve slapped myself. That was the problem right there. I’m sitting here thinking of Pop—Cyndi—in terms and conditions that don’t apply. Sighing, I rubbed at my forehead, fairly certain that FOOLISH was printed there in Times New Roman.

“I don’t remember, Nana. That was a long time ago.”

Nana Cherry sucked her teeth and poked me dead center of where the second O probably was. She could likely see it plain and in living color.

“Young as you is and I have a better memory than you? How’d that happen, Juleesa?”

Her teasing was so familiar and warm that I wanted to cry. Even as she ribbed me, there was love there. My bottom lip trembled and I looked away. Instantly, she gripped my chin and turned me back to face her. That sharp gaze that missed nothing, brown irises surrounded by a halo of blue, bored into me.

“Two and a half years ago, you sat in the backyard with my only granddaughter and told us that you loved your job but wished you could afford reliable childcare so that you could dance more. You had your chin lifted up when you said that, do you remember? You weren’t the least bit shamed to admit that you dance with no clothes on. You remember that?”

Dipping my chin, I nodded as a couple of tears fell from my eyes, not because I was embarrassed, but because I suddenly remembered exactly what she was talking about. I sure did sit my ass on that wicker couch and hold my head up with pride as I answered Carissa’s question about my line of work.

“Yes, ma’am,” I finally answered, my voice a little shaky, forcing me to swallow back the flood of tears in my throat. “I remember that.”

“You remember what I told you?”

I nodded again.

“Good,” she said firmly. “I told you not to worry about that baby. I told you to go to work and do what you had to do and that I would keep him as long as you needed me to.” Releasing my chin, she leveled me with a fierce look. “And isn’t that what I’ve done?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I repeated.

Canting her head, she took a step back. “Alright now.” Propped her fists on her hips, she frowned. “I did what I said I was gon’ do and you wanna take my baby away from me? That’s how you thank me?”

Quickly, I shook my head and approached her, reaching to pull her hands into my mine.

“No, Nana, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it, ’cause I know it can’t be something my knucklehead granddaughter done did.”

Despite myself, I giggled. She cracked a smile and I felt a wave of relief that at least she didn’t hate me.

“I just figured that if me and Cyndi weren’t talking, you wouldn’t want us still around the family. I just didn’t want to make things awkward.”

“Awkward?!” The way Nana Cherry’s eyes widened, you would’ve thought I’d called her a harlot. “Let my hands go so I can smack you upside the head and hopefully knock some sense into you!” She wrenched her hands from mine and I jumped back to avoid her swing.

“Nana! Don’t be so violent!”

Obviously annoyed, she huffed and repositioned her hands on her hips.