Page 49

I’m thinking about the way he brought up Deja. He brought her up for a reason. That was his way of making it known that he knew who my girl was. Letting me know in so little words that she would be the first one he touched. Never in my life have I had to kill. I’ve beat the shit out of plenty niggas but never had to pull a trigger. When it came to this shit with Oso, whatever door a nigga opened, I planned to walk through that bitch. I’m what he’s on.

HOURS LATER

“You like this color, son? I’m thinking about cutting my hair short. I want to do a shoulder length bob, and dye it this color,” my mom said, walking over to me with her phone in her hands, showing me some shit that she found online.

I’ve been with my mom for the past few hours. After leaving the shop, I picked her up, so she could meet with a lawyer. Everything went well at the meeting. I sat back, allowing her to do all the talking. I only came in as support. After the meeting, she wanted to go to the grocery store so she could cook dinner this evening, so I took her there.

Now, here I was sitting at the table with my nephews and niece. We were at Kingston’s house, having dinner. Kingston wasn’t home. He hit me earlier, telling me that he was going to be at the house with pops. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or not. I never questioned him on it. I just took his word for it.

“Man, watch out. You gone have all the young niggas on your body. Show that shit to your grandsons and see what they say,” I said, wanting her to get the phone out of my face, not even caring to see the color anymore.

It was some kind of honey blonde color. Gold highlights and shit. Something I would have probably swooned over my girl for getting. I didn’t want to see my mama in a shoulder length bob, with gold highlights. Hell nah.

“Let me see it ma,” Malik, her oldest grandchild called out. I knew he was going to be the one to say something. He was the grandchild that carried on like he was his grandmother’s boyfriend.

She walked over to him, holding the phone in her hands. She showed the screen to him, and he had the same reaction as me. If his lil ass could curse, he would have. Monroe wasn’t fuckin with it, either. Of course, Maleah liked it though. Her lil ass took it too far, asking if she could get that same color too. You know her brothers went off on her lil ass, telling her that that color was too grown for her. Seeing my nephews relationship with my niece gave me a clear shot of what it might have looked like if our mom had given our dad a daughter. I know we would have overly loved her and been very protective of her. Probably let her lil ass get away with murder too.

Crazy part about it, I actually had a sister on the way. These days, I’ve been so busy tending to my mom, being there for her, that I haven’t had the time to sit with the fact that I had a teenaged brother, and a baby sister on the way.

“Malik, and Monroe, go upstairs and take your showers. It’s about time for ya’ll to start getting ready for bed. Maleah, go in your mom’s room, so she can help you with your bath,” my mom said, giving out orders.

“But she said that she isn’t feeling good,” Maleah responded, turning in her seat so she could look up at her grandmother.

“Go upstairs. Tell her to help you get ready,” my mom’s voice was a little firm this time.

I looked at all their plates, and they’d finished everything. That’s one thing I can say my mom didn’t play about. When it came to finishing your food, she would make your ass sit there and eat everything. Growing up in a household with an Ethiopian mother that loved to cook all kinds of dishes, me and my brothers didn’t have room to be picky eaters. She exposed us to so much. My nephews and niece usually had the luxury of saying what they wouldn’t eat, but now that my mom was staying over, and she would take care of dinner some nights, the kids no longer had that luxury.

She went simple tonight, making baked chicken, jasmine rice, and mixed vegetables. They sat there and ate everything on their plates.

Usually, my mom would have had them put their dishes in the sink, but since it was getting closer to their bedtime, she allowed them to leave the plates there. She grabbed them, taking them over to the sink, prepared to wash them. She even took my plate.

“Do you want me to fix a plate for Deja, son?” my mom asked me.

“Nah. She in London,” I let her know.

“Oooh. London. What’s in London?” she inquired.

I thought about how I should answer that question. My mom knew Deja danced, but she didn’t know that Deja was a stripper. The night they met at the gala, Deja dressed her career up a little bit, out of fear that she would be judged.

“She got a gig out there. A big R&B artist reached out to her the other day, wanting her to perform with her on stage. She left out yesterday morning,” I told her. When I finished, she smiled.

“You know your big mouth brother told me what type of dancer she is,” she released, shocking me a little bit.

“Who? Kingston?” I inquired.

I called Kingston out because I knew that this is the place our mom has been spending most of her time, so I figured it was Kingston who exposed it.

“No. Kendrix told me,” she replied.

“Oh,” I said, keeping it short.

“In the mix of him telling me that, he also told me that he originally had eyes for Deja and that you were aware of it. I know how each one of my children are. Kingston, I love him dearly, but he is every bit of his father. He cannot be faithful to his wife to save his life. Kendrix, I’ll hold my breath waiting on the day for him to treat a woman correctly. I don’t have to worry about you. I know that you’ll handle your woman with great care. You’ll treat them the way you treat me, and Maleah. I have a little hope in Demarco. He’s a dog like his other two brothers, but I feel he’ll change for the right woman. I say all that to say that Kendrix probably lusted over Deja. She’s a beautiful girl. I’m sure he had an infatuation of what it would be like to get a chance with her. You on the other hand? I can tell that you really like her. I saw it the night you brought her to the gala,” she replied.

She still never said how she felt about Deja dancing.

“How you feel about her stripping though?” I asked. My question caused a faint smile to appear on her face, as she stood in front of the sink, allowing the water to fill.

“That’s not my place to judge her. She’s a woman, working, making her own money. What room do I have to look down on her? I stayed with a man for over thirty years, knowing that he was cheating on me. I have nothing but he upmost respect for women who go out and make their own money. That’s commendable. Something that I never got the chance to do,” she finished.