Page 46 of 4 Corinthians

“He’s fine,” Robert said, coming from around the corner. He stepped around Corinthians. To anyone who didn’t know him, you would think he didn’t know Corinthians from the way he stepped around her and made sure not to make eye contact, but I knew differently. I saw how he hesitated when he was close to her, and how his hand grazed her arm.

“Stop saying that shit because he ain’t fine. That’s why he’s here. He has an infection and these fucking cuts on his back!” Uncle Bradon yelled, stepping around me to get in Robert’s face. “What the fuck did you do to my nephew?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled. “I made him better.”

“Better?” Uncle Bradon questioned. He looked Robert up and down, then back at me and lifted his brow. “He did this to you?” I looked at Robert, who was watching me closely, then over his shoulder to where I’d last seen Corinthians to see that she was gone. “Did he do that to you?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

Uncle Bradon hit Robert so hard he fell into the wall. Robert grabbed his mouth and glared at him. Uncle Bradon pulled a gun from the back of his pants, grabbed Robert by the front of his shirt to make him stand up, and put the gun under his chin.

“I don’t know what the fuck you thought you were doing to him, but it's over. He’s coming to live with me,” Uncle Bradon told him. “Him and Kenbral both are.”

“They're my sons.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Uncle Bradon yelled. Spit flew from his mouth to Robert’s face. “I said they are coming with me! Try and stop me!”

**

“You don’t have to rush; the food isn’t going anywhere,” Breighton said, looking at me as I ate. I’d spent a week in the hospital; between the infection, open wounds on my back and wrist needing surgery, I was over being there and was happy when Uncle Bradon came and said I could leave. I knew I wasn’t going back to Robert’s; Uncle Bradon had been true to his word and got Kenbral and me out of there. We were living with him and Breighton now.

“He always eats fast,” Kenbral told her.

I looked between them then went back to eating my spaghetti. I was starving, and it was too good to slow down.

“Nadine will bring you some more,” she laughed and shook her head. “Trust me, it won't be the last good meal you get.”

“Yo daddy is with Nadine?” Kenbral asked.

Breighton laughed so hard that she almost fell out of the chair. After she got herself together, she wiped her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “No, they are best friends. He’s the only person she will let Mecca see in our family,” she said, shrugging. “I think Nadine has a boyfriend.”

“You sure?” he asked and lifted his brow. “They seem close.”

“Trust me, they aren’t anything but best friends,” she insisted. “Nadine is the only person I know that can cuss out my daddy and live to talk about it.”

“Then they probably fuckin,” Kenbral said, shrugging. “The only woman a nigga lets talk tough to him is his bitch.”

Breighton’s smile fell from her face, and she narrowed her eyes at Kenbral. He was too busy eating to realize he messed up. Mecca and his best friend, December, walked into the kitchen just as she was standing up. December stepped in before she could grab Kenbral.

“Ay, what’s going on?” December said, holding her arms at her side. I could tell from the way he was holding her arms that he wasn’t hurting her, and if she wanted to get away, she could. “Why you look like you want to snatch his soul?”

“He called Nadine a bitch and said she fuckin’ my daddy,” Breighton answered.

Mecca looked at Kenbral, his eyes narrowed as he reached across the table to grab Kenbral by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him across it. “What did you say about my mama and Uncle Bradon?” he asked through clenched jaws.

“Chill,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Because I promise you what you ain’t gonna like it.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin, dropped it on the table, and stood. “Let my brother go.”

“Or what?” December said, letting Breighton go and putting her behind him.

“You know I can’t feel pain, right?” I asked, looking between the two of them. “That means what you think you gonna do to me ain’t gonna hurt.”

“All niggas bleed,” Mecca told me with a smirk. “Pain or not, I know where to cut to make sure you don’t get back up.”

“Killing me ain’t a threat.” I lifted my shirt to show him my scars. “I been dead a long ass time.”

Mecca looked at my stomach and his face twisted. “Who the fuck did that to you?” he asked.

“Don’t matter,” I told him. “Now let my brother go so I can go back to eating my food and not have to kill you.”