Page 26

. . .

“Don’t make me regret this shit, Aku,” Lunar muttered, stretched out across one of the barstools in her kitchen like he lived there, half-watching her as she rubbed lotion up her thighs.

He was back in LA to record some music. Ahvi and Kamari stayed back in Jade City because Ahvi didn’t like leaving her restaurant too often. She was already closed more than she liked when she traveled with him for work.

With Little Lunar being the best thing in rap, he was constantly being pulled in different directions—always needing to be somewhere. But being in LA always felt like home because his people were there.

Aku ignored him like she’d been ignoring everything all damn day—Malik included.

The silence between them buzzed. It wasn’t tense. Just cousin-coded. That shared language built on years of sleepovers, summer braids, petty beefs and riding for each other in middle school hallways. Two years apart, raised like twins, bound by mamas who shared more secrets than recipes.

Lunar cracked a sunflower seed between his teeth. “You really outside tonight, huh?” The chains around his neck gleamed on their own, lighting up his chocolate skin.

“I’m outside, hoe ,” she sang back, dragging the shimmer oil up her collarbone with extra flair. “You ain’t see this dress, nigga?”

“That dress gon’ get somebody shot,” he said, sitting up now, eyes scanning her frame like a big brother about to start blocking entrances.

“Good,” she snapped, not looking at him. “He should’ve stayed his ass home if he ain’t want me looking this good.”

Lunar knew who he was. She hadn’t said Malik’s name since this morning. Hadn’t needed to. The way she stomped through the kitchen earlier, slamming cabinets and aggressively seasoning eggs, said it all.

Malik had dipped before sunrise. Left behind a folded note that Aku couldn’t care less about. It felt like they’d taken ten steps back after only taking one forward.

She couldn’t front like her body didn’t shake just thinking about the way he felt between her legs. It looped in her mind like an instant replay.

Aku wasn’t built for that kind of silence. She was raised in a houseful of people that made noise even when they slept.

Lunar watched her strap on her heels and grab her small clutch. “You sure you not doing too much?”

Aku turned to face him, hand on hip. “I’m doing exactly enough.”

That made him laugh – a deep, belly-warm, the kinda laugh only she could pull from him on a bad day. “Aight then. Let’s go make you feel better. Its only right after all the times you came through for me.”

Aku stopped walking, just to wrap her arms around him. “I love you Little Lunar.”

He knew she did. When it came to him, Aku played no games because he was so special to her.

The way he’d always poured into her, gave her shit to think about, made her become a stylist—wanting to keep everything in the family.

He had a hard time realizing his worth, while he chased his father’s ghost, but like her mama n’em had Big Lunar, Aku had him - the heart of their group.

Lunar squeezed her back. “I love you too.”

“Now, c’mon before you have me out here crying, messing up my makeup.” Aku jested, sucking in her emotions.

Outside, the night air was warm with just enough breeze to make her dress flirt with her thighs. Lunar unlocked the car and slid into the passenger seat, letting her drive—knowing better than to argue when Aku was on a mission.

“Never had a bitch like me in your life...” Aku vibed out.

The car ride was smooth, bass thumping low as she played Flo Milli and rapped along with attitude. Lunar glanced at her between lights.

“You mad, huh?”

She laughed. “Shut up.”

He grinned, watching the way her jaw stayed tight even when she was mouthing the words to the music. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“You gon’ talk about it, though.”

She shot him a side-eye. “Just let me be mad and pretty, damn.”

“Aight,” Lunar chuckled. “Mad and pretty it is.”

When they pulled up to the spot—a tucked-off, high-ceiling club off La Brea with no sign and velvet ropes—they handed the keys to the valet and stepped into the line-less VIP entrance.

The bouncer looked up, nodded. “Yo, Bu already inside. Told me to let y’all through.”

The second they stepped into the club, the atmosphere shifted. Bass shook the walls just right. Dark-lit with velvet booths, gold lights crawling across the polished floors, and the bar glowing with top shelf liquor. The air smelled like good weed, money, and expensive perfume.

Bu was in the back corner posted in a booth, legs spread wide like royalty, arms resting across the seat like he was the couch. He wore a dark denim jacket over a crisp white tee, gold tooth catching the light every time he smirked and his red hat flipped backwards. Calm…unbothered…sharp-eyed.

He clocked them instantly and stood to hug Aku first.

“There go my favorite crybaby,” Bu laughed into her hair, voice warm and wrapped in that lazy southern drawl Noodle couldn’t get enough of.

“I know you missed me,” she teased, holding on a second longer than necessary. “The beach house boring without me.”

Bu shook his head. “It is quiet with my wife not there.”

Aku gushed, pinching his cheek. “Aww, Bu and Noodle,” her lashes fluttered, loving how good love looked on her people.

“Watch out,” Bu laughed, shaking her off him.

She pulled back with a grin and let Lunar step in for the dap-up and shoulder bump. Lunar’s love for Bu extended like they shared blood. Bu had that kind of presence—like he’d seen some shit and walked away wiser, not colder.

They slid into the section, sitting on the couch just catching the vibes. Aku in the middle, Lunar on one side, Bu on the other.

“You still love the chaos, huh?” Bu asked, eyeing her dress before sipping from his glass. “Blue dress,” he added with a playful gleam in his eyes.

Aku shrugged. “It’s not chaos, it’s called doing me.”

“Sounds like a Gemini.”

“I’m a Virgo like your wife.”

“Same thing.”

Lunar burst out laughing, leaning back and nodding. “He got you there.”

Aku rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. She was glowing—soft, oiled, glittered, and petty.

Her lengthy legs were tightly crossed. Her lips still glossy…

makeup and hair flawless like always. She checked her phone once.

Eyes scanning Malik’s message from earlier and how she still hadn’t responded.

To be petty, she went into the Plugged In app to post a pic with the caption: doing me on La Brea.

Lunar was all in her phone. “You wild, Aku.”

“I’m not. He just needs to know you don’t run out on a bitch like me. I am the table, the chairs, the food, the fuckin’ floor…I change lives,” she preached.

“Sounds like that nigga on the same time Ahvi was on…don’t know good shit that was placed at their feet because survival never gave them a lifeline like that, so shit feels devilish—like a trick.” Lunar leaned back, waving a bottle girl over.

Aku blinked, letting what Lunar said sink in. There wasn’t much time before Bu was also dropping gems in her lap.

“Let me tell you something, Aku,” Bu said, watching her carefully now, tone lowering like he was dropping a parable.

“When a man got real love in his face, it scares the hell outta him, especially if he ain’t never had it clean before.

Sometimes he runs not ‘cause he don’t want it—but ‘cause he don’t know what to do with it. That don’t mean you stop shining.”

Aku blinked. “I’m still outside though,” she muttered, grabbing the drink Lunar ordered for her.

Bu grinned. “Then be outside with your chin up, not for no reaction, do it simply ‘cause your people raised you to glow.”

Slowly, her head bobbed, something flickering behind her eyes. She wasn’t crying. But something was cracking.

It was probably the way the men in her family always poured into their women…

always showed up with something more than just advice—something that stayed with you, settled in your chest and made you stand taller.

It was the way they saw you, even when you were trying to hide behind your attitude, your silence, your pretty little distractions.

Bu wasn’t talking down to her. He wasn’t scolding or preaching to her because he didn’t like the color Malik wore. He was grounding her, reminding her of who she was…of where she came from, and that was the part that got to her the most.

Her family was top tier. Like, legacy-level top tier - loud and layered, raised on “don’t leave that house without lotion” and “don’t talk back with your hands on your hips.” A village made of women who loved hard and men who weren’t afraid to say it, show it, or protect it.

Her daddy, French didn’t play about her.

Neither did Javen, or Lunar, or Qamar, or Pimp, or Mav or Bu.

Every one of them treated her like she mattered—because she did.

Because in their eyes, she wasn’t just some girl figuring it out.

She was theirs. And in their world, being “theirs” meant you were sacred.

That was the difference.

That was the crack forming now—right there in her ribcage, where her pride and her ache were still trying to wrestle it out.

Malik had left her that morning with silence, and maybe that hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

But Bu and Lunar? In a dim booth in a noisy-ass club?

They poured light straight into the places she didn’t even realize had gone dim.

Aku blinked and nodded again, this time more to herself than anyone else. Trying to keep it together. Trying not to let the weight of being loved this well undo her completely.

Because damn…she was lucky.

And she knew it.

And deep down, beneath the glitter and hurt feelings and glossy lips, she still believed love like hers could stretch wide enough to reach Malik too—if he was man enough to receive it.

Lunar leaned over and nudged her. “Let’s take shots. Then I’m watching you do that dumbass TikTok dance on the floor.”

“I’m not drunk enough yet.”