Page 16 of Bern and Isley (D-Ville Projects #5)

Bern

It had been a week since Isley confirmed her pregnancy. The idea of her possibly being a mother was still hard to fathom. All I knew was whatever she needed me to do, I was willing. I loved her.

“Ay, I just lost my money in this machine.” An old white guy with a scraggly beard approached me as I was emptying the change machine.

I had just repaired one vacuum cleaner, now another one was starting to act up.

I handed the man six quarters to replace what he lost in the machine.

Eventually I planned to replace all of the old vacuums with newer ones.

In the meantime, I’d have to settle for just repairing them.

I pulled my phone out and sent a text to the guy who fixed the other one to see when he was available to swing through.

The good news was that the car wash was making good money.

I was easily bringing in twenty-five hundred dollars a week.

My highest was over three thousand. Purchasing the business had proven to be a great decision. I was glad that I bet on myself.

A candy apple red 1970 Chevy Impala pulled up to the working vacuum as I was putting my phone back into my jeans pocket.

I recognized the nigga as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle.

It was my old neighbor Broderik better known in the hood as Mook.

He was dressed in an oversized black tee and baggy jeans with a black and white bandana hanging out of his pocket.

“Bern, is that you nigga?” He smiled, showing off a platinum grill.

“Yeah, what’s up Mook?” I grinned as I locked up the change machine.

He strolled over and dapped me up. “Man, I heard you was out. I wish I was able to make it to your kickback. But I was out of town that weekend.”

“It’s all good. I’m just glad to be home.”

“That’s what’s up. Shid I’m close to getting off papers, but the temptation to catch another body so damn strong right now. A lil nigga broke into my shit overnight.”

“Damn, for real?”

“Yeah. Broke my damn window and shit. That’s why I’m here to vacuum the glass that I couldn’t sweep up.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Ain’t it though? I heard it was some lil nigga around the complex named Scrap or some shit.”

My heart thumped. I hoped like hell it wasn’t Icey’s cousin Scrap. Surely the nigga wasn’t dumb enough to rob a gangbanger.

“When I catch up with that nigga, I’m going to beat his ass. The next time, I won’t be so nice,” Mook warned.

“I feel you,” I replied. I was hoping I’d run into Scrap and check his ass. I didn’t need any of his bullshit getting Isley or Aunt Fee into the crossfires of any type of retaliation. Niggas wasn’t letting robberies slide. I would kill Scrap myself if he caused any hurt or harm to come to my Icey.

After collecting the money and replenishing supplies at the carwash, I headed to see my parole officer.

The redhead broad stayed flirting with me every time I stepped into her office.

I always played the game with her, but I had no intentions of ever playing in the snow.

Even if my heart wasn’t set on Isley, my eyes would only be pleased with another melanated goddess.

I finally made it home with a few daylight hours to spare, so I mowed the yard.

I hated that shit, but knew the shit had to be done.

I could pay someone to do it, but decided to just power through.

By the time I got showered, I received a text from Isley inviting me over for dinner.

I was never turning down her cooking so I agreed to be over within the next hour.

As soon as I stepped into Isley’s place, the aroma of good country cooking greeted me. I didn’t even bother asking what she had cooked because a nigga was gon’ eat whatever.

“I’m surprised you felt like cooking today.” I raised a brow as I placed my bag on the kitchen counter. I had stopped by the store to grab Isley some apple juice. It had been the one thing that agreed with her stomach.

“I know right,” she answered. “Today was the first day that I woke up without nausea. I was able to cook and eat breakfast with no issues.”

“That’s good news, right?”

“Hell yeah. I’ve been starving but everything made me sick. I thought the morning sickness would be a full twelve weeks. I’m glad that’s not the case.”

I didn’t reply. I was glad she felt better but I was trying to determine if that was her way of admitting that she planned to go through with the pregnancy.

“I decided I’m going through with the pregnancy. Yesterday, I texted Marshall to let him know I’m pregnant and didn’t want anything from him. But if he wants to have anything to do with the child, I won’t stand in the way.”

The thought of her ex made my blood boil. My jaw clenched at the very mention of his name.

“What that nigga say?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t reply.”

My nostrils flared. The nigga didn’t even have the decency to respond to see how she was doing. He didn’t deserve to be in the child’s life. And if I had my way, he wouldn’t be a part of Isley’s nor the baby’s life. Unfortunately, that was out of my hands.

Isley changed the subject as we took a seat at the table to enjoy the spread she’d prepared. Smothered pork chops, baked macaroni and cheese, collard greens and homemade cornbread. She even baked a peach cobbler, which was my favorite dessert.

“You put your foot in the meal,” I complimented her as I fixed seconds. Everything was seasoned to perfection.

“Thank you. Make sure you take your mama a plate to go.”

“Hell, that’s if she’s even coming home. She’s been staying at her nigga house the last few days.”

“Okay then. Ms. Cynthia getting her groove back.” She snickered before taking a sip of her apple juice.

“Ay, watch that shit,” I warned as I took my seat at the table.

“What? I’m just saying I’m glad to see her happy and moving on after her husband died.”

“I feel that,” I agreed. It was hard seeing my mama grieve. So I was glad she was at a place where she felt comfortable moving on. “Besides, it makes me feel less guilty about moving out.”

“Have you decided on a place?” she asked as she stood from the table to rinse her plate.

“Yeah, I’m going to move to the fifth floor.”

“Good. It’s a shorter commute for me,” she teased.

Although I knew she was being funny, that was the reason I decided to move back to the complex.

I wanted to be closer to her and the baby.

I wanted to be readily accessible if she needed me.

I didn’t know if that nigga Marshall was going to man up or not.

But I wasn’t going to wait around and find out. I was ready to stand in the gap.