Page 25 of Body Language (Mind, Body, & Soul #2)

Niveah

My whole body went cold.

Huxley???

The name hit me harder than a slap. My little brother.

My responsibility. My baby that I raised like he was mine when our mama couldn’t get her shit together.

I was staring at the girl carrying his child, which meant I wasn’t just raising Hux and Heidi anymore.

Now I had to make sure his baby… and Zejah…

didn’t crumble under the same shit I’d spent my whole life trying to escape.

I felt my stomach twist, rage and heartbreak doing somersaults inside me.

Responsible for two kids and a newborn. How the fuck did I get here?

No. Four. Because like it or not, Zejah was just a kid herself. And the way she was looking at me… scared and reaching for something stable.. told me I couldn’t just leave her to figure her life out alone.

Then, like a puzzle slamming into place, everything about Hux made sense.

The late-night walks. The random mood swings.

The way he’d been quiet lately, looking like he was carrying a mountain on his back but too damn stubborn to ask for help.

The smart-mouthed responses followed by quick apologies.

I thought it was just ball practice, grades, being a teenager.

But nah… he’d been holding this. Holding her.

Holding a secret so heavy, and all the while I was clueless.

God, why him? He’s still a baby himself…

Zejah’s voice broke through my storm.

“I been telling him to tell you,” she cried, her words stumbling over hiccupped breaths. “I told him we needed to figure out a plan before my mama found out, before things got this bad. But he kept saying… he kept saying he was gonna handle it.”

I swallowed hard. Handle it? Hux thought he could handle this ? A baby? At his age?

“Lord have mercy,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

I just sat there and listened. That’s all I could do. I sat there on that busted-up stairwell with the sound of babies crying in the distance, dice shaking in some old head’s cup, and Zejah pouring her whole little heart.

“I tried to call Hux before I called you,” she said, sniffling. “But he didn’t answer. Hasn’t called me back, either.”

My chest tightened. Of course, he didn’t answer. His ass was at that tournament.

“Yeah,” I managed, keeping my voice steady even though my insides weren’t. “He’s at a tournament. That’s why.”

She nodded, wiping her face, but the words kept spilling.

“My little sister… she saw Hux give me some money yesterday for lunch.”

That made my stomach flip. Yesterday? In Gun Hill? How the hell did Hux even get there and back without me knowing? My mind started racing, but I bit my tongue. It wasn’t the time for those type of questions.

Zejah’s voice dropped lower. “Then… my mom went in my drawer. She thought it was where I kept my stash.”

I felt my jaw clench.

“She found the ultrasound picture.” Zejah’s face crumbled.

“She started cursing me out, calling me stupid. Saying I was just throwing my life away. She knew I was talking to Hux because she came home early one day from the casino and saw him here. She told me… she told me it was fine, as long as I made sure he gave me money so I could get the things I needed.”

That’s when the rage in me snapped. My fists curled so tight my nails dug into my palms.

Zejah’s tears fell harder. “And then she said…” Her lips trembled. “She said I was stupid for getting pregnant by him because my baby would just be a drug addict like its grandmother. Said it wouldn’t be long before Hux was the same way. That he’s just as fucked up as his mom.”

The words sliced me open.

“She said…” Zejah’s voice broke. “She said my baby would be a hoe because that’s what you are, Niv. She said that’s how you got out the hood.”

I swear to God I felt my blood boil. Bitch, you got some nerve…?

Zejah’s shoulders shook as she sobbed. “I snapped, Niv. I cursed her out. I couldn’t take it no more.

And then she—” Her voice cracked as she lifted her sleeve to show the bruises blooming on her arms. “She started swinging on me. My mom fought me, knowing I’m pregnant.

She said anytime I feel like walking back in her house, I better be ready to fight since I wanna be grown. ”

She crumbled then, full-on breaking down in front of me, her words barely a whisper:

“I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

I leaned in, wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb, and said softly, “It’s okay. I’m gonna handle everything.”

Then I looked up. Kendrix was already watching me, eyes locked on mine like he knew exactly what “handle” meant.

“Baby,” he said carefully, like he was trying to talk me off a ledge. “Let’s talk about this for a minute—”

“No.” I cut him off before he could even finish. My mind was already made up, and nothing in the world could change it. I turned back to Zejah.

“Zejah, you know Kendrix, right?”

She sniffled, nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” I sat up straighter. “Do you have a few duffle bags or anything in your room?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

I nodded once, decisive. “Okay. Kendrix is gonna go with you in there and pack your things. Only grab what you want, what’s valuable. Don’t try to bring any extra shit. If you need more clothes, I’ll make sure you got that and more.”

Her eyes darted between us, wide, like she wasn’t sure if I was dead serious. I tilted her chin up so she had no choice but to look me in my eyes.

“Zejah,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Are you sure you want me to handle this?”

Her lips trembled, but she nodded. “Yes.”

I searched her face for hesitation, for any sign she wasn’t ready. There wasn’t one. Just a girl who’d had enough.

“Good.” I leaned closer. “But I’m warning you.

When I go in there, I’m not taking it easy on her.

Not after the shit she said. Not after she disrespected my whole family and laid hands on you.

Which, in my book, means she put her hands on my family since you’re carrying him or her.

That’s blood now. So don’t you dare try to tell me to stop or feel sorry for her.

Because I won’t stop. Not until I’m good and ready. ”

For a second, I thought she might cry harder. But then a shaky little laugh slipped out instead. She wiped her face, grinning through the tears.

“I know,” she said, breathless. “And I’m ready, Niv. It’s been long overdue.”

I stood slow. My blood boiling but my body calm. I looked up at Kendrix, and he was still watching me. I straightened my shoulders and squared my stance with a steady calm that sent chills through my own damn spine—

“Ok. Let’s go.”

Zejah pushed the door open first, and the second her mama laid eyes on her, the bullshit started.

“Oh, you back? So you ready to throw hands again?” Her mama leaned back in her chair, legs crossed like she was daring her own daughter to swing first. Then her eyes slid past Zejah and landed on Kendrix, and her mouth curved into this nasty little grin.

“Ohhh,” she purred. “So you brought some fine man with you. Mmm. And here I thought for sure little Hux, crackhead Jr., was the daddy.”

I stepped through the doorway right then. Her eyes went wide like she just saw the Grim Reaper in heels.

“Zejah,” I said calmly, not taking my eyes off her mama. “Go get your things.”

She hesitated.

“Now.”

She nodded quick and disappeared down the hall with Kendrix trailing behind her, leaving me and that woman face-to-face.

I crossed my arms, cocked my head. “So. What’s that shit you been saying?”

She smirked, lighting a cigarette like this was casual. “Yeah, I said it. I don’t know why she wanna go get pregnant like I already ain’t got enough damn kids for her to take care of. If she wanna do something, she need to go downtown, find her a job, pay some of these bills.”

I let out a sharp laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it kept me from putting my foot through her chest right then and there.

“You got a lotta nerve,” I said, voice calm. “Maybe instead of running your mouth about me and my family, you should’ve been a better mama so your daughter isn’t out here doing everything you should be doing for your kids.”

She blew smoke in my direction, squinting like she was unimpressed. “Oh, here you go. Miss Savior Complex. Miss Perfect. Girl, please. You out here swinging around poles, talking bout being better. Don’t get too high on your little pedestal.”

I smiled slow. “Funny. I don’t need a pedestal. I stand ten toes on the same ground as you. The difference is, I don’t need a blunt or a bottle to keep me standing.”

That one hit. I saw it in the way her jaw tightened.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know the pressure, the pain—”

“Oh, I know,” I cut her off, stepping closer. “I know because I lived through your mess. I raised my siblings like Zejah has been doing. I carried weight mothers like you cared less to hold. Don’t you ever think I don’t know what it’s like.”

Her eyes narrowed, that little smirk creeping back. “And look at you now. Still mad. Still bitter. You think you better than me because you found a nigga to bankroll you?”

“Everything I have,” I said, stepping closer, “I got on my own. Don’t get it twisted.

I got a few paid niggas on my roster, but I never had to lay on my back to get what I want or need.

Unlike you—” I dragged my eyes up and down her like she wasn’t even worth a second glance, “—I’m self-made.

I depend on no one. What a nigga adds is a luxury. ”

She tilted her head, sucked her teeth, then laughed like she had won. “Self-made, huh? That’s what you call it? Baby, you still a hoe. Just like my daughter. Pregnant by a lil crackhead in training. Pssh. Take her. She can help you screw a few men while you at it.”

Something in me snapped clean in half.

“I reallllllly try to be nice, but Bitch, you got me so fucked up.”

Before she could breathe another word, my fist connected with her jaw. The sound echoed off those thin walls, her cigarette flying across the floor.