Page 25

My first ever crush was Prince Charming. I was eleven, he was thirteen. We had just moved back to Norhupton, and the Triplets had come over to our house for a cookout. I tried to share my moon pie with Prince, but he pushed me away.

YC saw it and beat the shit out of him.

Later, he sat me down and told me that we’re all family, and can’t like each other that way. But the next time I like somebody, they gotta prove they’re worth my moon pie before I even think about sharing, so that I won’t be mad after the fact that I didn’t get to eat the whole thing myself.

I told myself if I couldn’t have Prince, then I didn’t want anyone, and swore off sharing my heart and moon pies ever again.

Of course, I grew out of my crush, and now I’d probably projectile vomit if I thought of YC and Prince as anything more than my older brothers, but I never grew out of guarding my heart like it’s the Holy Grail. Not because I’m scared of being hurt. Being hurt is almost inevitable when you fall in love. You’re falling, for God’s sake.

It’s the after. Th.

“what now?”

of it all.

Okay, I fall. We fall. We’re in love. What happens when we stop falling? What happens when you die? Or I die? Or something keeps us apart?

It took my mom getting with Uncle Junior to see how sad she’d been for over twenty years because her love died so suddenly. I’m inclined to believe Mo’s body began to break down from being away from Mace, and not accepting that he’d be away from her for the rest of his life. And don’t get me started on how many times I’ve had to pick Mace up off the floor or bring Denver to my mom’s so she could fall apart in peace.

But before all that, what really scared me straight on love was YT and her dearly departed ex boyfriend. Talk about watching someone lose their mind in love.

I shudder just thinking about it.

I’ve dated plenty of great guys. But not a single one was worth compromising my sanity for the after. Not a single one.

Including Shaddy.

But this shit with him, it happened without my permission.

The love disguised itself as safety. Friendship. Support. I let myself lean in fully because it felt good to know someone was there for me purely as a choice. No ulterior motives. Not because they’re family. Not because they wanted to fuck me, or experience me. Shaddy forced himself into my life simply because he wanted to be here. He saw a need for me having someone and filled it effortlessly.

And somewhere between him claiming Sadé as his own and shaving my pussy I fell hard.

I’m still falling. No matter how much I reach out, there’s nothing to stop this. Having a baby distracted me. Recovering from surgery distracted me. This nigga who also similarly forced his way into me dealing with him distracted me.

But it’s always been there. This pull Shaddy has on me. And I absolutely despise it.

Though by my current actions–listening to his Sade cover in noise cancelling headphones on repeat–you’d never guess it.

What can I say? The nigga sucks but has the voice of an angel.

I should be painting right now. After I came home from the hospital, my artist’s block was a thing of the past. I’ve spent hours with Sadé tied to my torso, painting piece after piece.

I have so many hanging up in Dal’s she-shed that I’m thinking about hitting up some local galleries when my muse dries up, or I hit twenty pieces.

Maybe I’ll go do that when everyone’s asleep.

I’m startled into pooting when someone grabs my ankle and pulls me hard across my bed. I don’t know when I dozed off, but the light from the windows is gone, and the dimmed overhead lights make it hard to make out who the fuck is disturbing me.

Until my headphones are snatched off my head, and I’m greeted by the object of my desires and despair.

He brings the headphones to his ear and smirks, much to my utter humiliation, and goes to turn the lights up as I move to a sitting position.

“You don’t have to listen to my songs if you miss me, Mace. I’m here now.”

I scoff, standing up. I know my face is balled up, by how contorted it feels.

“Get out of my room.”

Shaddy just licks his lips and starts sauntering to me.

“Why you being like that, Mace?”

I hold my hand out so he stays three feet from me.

“I’m not one of these bitches you used to that will go for the okey doke just because you got bomb head and the dick to match. You ate me up then left Paradise with Sahara like I wouldn’t know. But mad my godbrother is eating my food.”

He wraps one hand around my wrist, lifting it off his broad chest before interlinking his fingers with mine. He hoods his eyes, tryna use that game he got from his daddy on me. I’ll admit, my knees did a lil wiggle. A tiny one.

“Me and Sahara not like that–”

“To be honest I really don’t give a fuck.”

Shad pulls those full lips of his into his mouth so I pull my hand back to my person.

“Yeah, you wild as fuck. Never thought you’d be ain’t shit like the rest but I mean, you are a musician. Silly me. You can close my door on the way out.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Like that?”

“Just like that.”

I fold my arms and buck my eyes.

He combs his bottom lip and nods.

“Fasho. I’m taking Sadé with me to the studio for the night, give you and Ms. Sheryl a break. I already packed her bag and a few bottles.”

“Don’t have my baby around no fucking groupies, nigga.”

Suddenly I’m pulled into his hard, sexy ass body. He crooks his finger on my chin to tilt my head.

“What I tell you about disrespecting me just ‘cause you mad? I’d never have our baby around no bitches. And I already told them to clear out all groupies, weed, and drank, because my daughter finna be there. I may not be shit but I’m also not dumb, shorty.”

I don’t let myself feel anything, and when he leans in I turn my head so he kisses my temple.

He lets me go.

“Enjoy your night off, Mace.”

Right before he hits the door my phone starts vibrating. This nigga chuckles, and I hold in my groan into he finally leaves.

When my phone vibrates again, I almost chuck it out the window, until I see that it’s Wyn.

“Wassup, girlie?”

I ask when I answer her call.

“I got an appearance at this new club downtown. Supposed to be lit, and not affiliated with Foe Dub at all. You down? Autumn, Brina, and Dal already said they’d come. Y’all can get ready at my new crib. Annnnd, PC is stopping by, too.”

My grin spreads on my face like I’m the grinch. And I’m kid-free? It’s written in the stars.

“Hell yeah I’m down. Tell my future ex-husband I’ll see him soon.”

Wynter’s apartment is decked out just like a true bachelorette pad. Modern, sleek, with white fur rugs in every room, even the bathroom.

We’re in her bedroom now, listening to older songs while she finishes her makeup.

Autumn twirls leisurely around the stripper pole in here. She looks funny in only flesh toned nipple pasties and her dark mini skirt, like she really is working for her money.

“Sometimes I wish I moved down south to dance. I know I would have touched seven figures by now.”

She grips the pole harder to leap on it, swinging down low until her feet touch the ground again.

“Then Turkey would have just followed you down there,”

Wynter remarks as she expertly covers the last of her freckles.

“How were the guys as teens? I can only imagine how wild Patrick was.”

Dal poses one more time in Wyn’s floor-to-ceiling mirror, snapping pics. I just know Peanuthead nor Set saw what her and Brina are wearing.

Dal’s lilac satin backless tank is ribbed and holds them bazukas up perfectly, and her black stacked pants cinch her waist.

And B? Her leopard mini dress makes her look like a brick house, especially with her ass-length one-layer cornrows and brown thigh high peep toe boots.

Autumn smiles.

“The boys were even more lawless than they are now. All about money, throwing up they set, and the family. I wish y’all could have met Fredo and Sean, though.”

“Ohmigod, yes!”

Wynter squeals.

“Fredo was an absolute sweetheart. And he was fine. Picture Rico, but with long hair in two low ponytails. Mm mm mm. Like you think Rico be doing the most, y’all wouldn’t stand a chance against Frederick Alvarez.”

“He really was a sweetheart… he was close with Turk right? I’ve never heard him say anything about him,”

Brina says, fixing her lip glass.

Autumn shrugs, switching directions on the pole.

“If you bring him up, he’ll speak about him. They were almost as close as he is with Set, so it’s hard. Neither he nor Rico really talk about him, and Rico usually spends his birthday in Belize with his grandmother. Does Nut talk about Sean, Dal?”

“Nope. His birthday this year, I found him high as fuck and he told me a couple things, but that’s it.”

“Sean was the baby.”

Wyn takes a huge gulp of her marg before putting a straw in and starting on her lips.

“A year younger than Shaddy. When you saw one you usually saw the other.”

“A true loverboy. Turk was so mad because Sean told him that his first little trap R congrats on your baby girl. Shotta’s a solid nigga, so if it wasn’t me, I’m glad it’s him.”

He lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles before following his bro out the section.

“Hold up, hold, up, HOLD. UP!”

Wyn screams over the noise.

Thank God everyone in VIP seems like they’re in their own world.

“So you and PC huh? Is it big? I feel like it is,”

Autumn asks, sipping her drink.

I shrug, and start pouring us shots. We might as well drink up the free liquor.

“A lady never kisses and tells,”

I purr, handing out the shots.

“That means she ain’t fuck,”

Dal blurts.

I stick out my tongue at her loud ass.

“Fine, I didn’t. We talked all night under the stars and he wanted me to join him on tour. I knew if I fucked I would have said yes, so I didn’t… but he did send me a nut video a couple times, and yes, Piccolo is slanging!”

“Okaaay! I’ll drink to that!”

Brina cackles as we clink the shots and down them.

We do that two more times, toasting to having good pussy and being kid-free, or kid-less in Wyn’s case, before we started feeling the music and acting a fucking fool.

I needed a night out like this. With my girlies. Not worried about no nigga.

Just free.