Page 89 of When a Soul Cries

Even if she got mad.

Even if she asked me the one question I still didn’t know how to answer.

Why didn’t you tell me?

This time, I knew the answer.

Because I hadn’t known she was struggling.

Because I had been waiting to make sure the past wasn’t coming back for what he left behind.

Because I had kept my head down, kept my job, kept my lifestyle the same, and told nobody while I made sure the money was really mine to keep.

I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

But it was coming.

And something told me the eviction notice wasn’t the only thing about to change our lives.

I knew I should've stayed my ass at home.

Not because anything was wrong with the bar. The place was actually nice as hell. Low lighting, dark leather booths, gold fixtures hanging over the bar, music loud enough to catch a vibe but low enough that you didn't have to scream into somebody's ear like you were calling plays at a football game.

The problem was sitting directly across from me.

I took another slow sip of my drink while the woman I'd brought with me continued telling a story I had stopped listening to about ten minutes ago.

Something about her cousin.

Or her cousin's boyfriend.

Maybe the boyfriend's cousin.

Hell, I didn't know.

I nodded anyway.

“Damn. That's crazy.”

She stopped talking.

Fuck.

Her eyes narrowed. “What's crazy?”

I froze with the glass halfway to my mouth.

Now, see.

This was exactly why a nigga needed to pay attention.

I lowered my drink slowly and leaned back in the booth, buying myself a few seconds while I tried to remember one damn thing she'd said.

Nothing.

My brain had clocked out.

“All of it,” I finally said, shaking my head like she'd just told me some devastating shit. “The whole situation. Start to finish. Unbelievable.”