Page 7

Siasia hated that Noodle had suffered in silence, never leaning on her to help make things right, Now, her baby girl wasn’t a baby anymore—she was Bu’s wife and gracing stages with that beautiful voice, turning pain into melody.

“I’m good, though Qamar,” Aku assured her Uncle, knowing he’d do anything to make sure she was.

Once there had been a silent competition between her and Qamar when it came to her daddy.

Qamar held French’s heart in a different way but rightfully so.

Now, she loved Qamar like a brother, even though he was her uncle.

“Yo, y’all tryna smoke? Aku, I know you got something in that luxury ass purse.”

“I don’t carry no weed in my Balenciaga, boy,” she laughed. “But I got this app. Plugged In got me.” She pulled out her phone to log into the app. It would be her first time using it.

“You be moving bougie now,” he teased.

“I’m moving efficient,” she corrected, opening her phone and hitting Malik through the app.

1985 Maxwell Dr. Can you slide?

Key: What you need?

Aku asked Qamar how much he wanted, and he asked for two blunts which were enough to keep him satisfied until he was back in Emerald City.

StylistBae: Two pre rolls.

Key: I don’t really move for no lil shit like that. Especially not in no rich ass neighborhood.

Aku laughed while rolling her eyes.

StylistBae: Boy, stop playing. Do me a solid.

Key: What’s in it for me?

StylistBae: What you want?”

Key: I’ll let you know when I get there. 15 out.

When Aku looked up from her phone, Qamar and Siasia both had goofy grins on their faces.

“Umm, Devin?”

“Girl, no! I am off that man, He don’t want all the things I’m covered in.”

“Then who is it?” Qamar asked.

“Do you want some weed or not?” was all Aku said, before Siasia began getting the kids situated and cranking the music up.

Malik pulled up to the quiet neighborhood, with his hoodie on, car humming low.

He sent a text to let her know he was outside.

Brushing his hand over his gun, his eyes were alert.

He always had to be on point because enemies were liable to show up anywhere.

Safe was a myth in his world—especially when he had something to lose.

Aku twisted her body over to his car. “On time, or it’s free…you late.” She laughed, making him do the same.

“Watch out cuh,” he smirked, his words catching the small breeze. “What’s the occasion?”

“My Uncle’s post-game wind down. You tryna come in or just drop off?”

“You tell me.”

She stepped aside, pulling his car door open, she leaned down to make eye contact. “Come chill with us.”

“You pulling out a nigga’s door and shit…you wild.”

Aku laughed loud, her voice echoing through the quiet neighborhood. “Oh, my Lord… God forbid a girl got manners.” She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

Malik stared at her. She was so fine to him.

He wanted to count the freckles on her face and remember how many it was, so he could use it like counting sheep when sleep was hard to find.

Her laugh softened the noise in his chest, and the way she never tried too hard made her even badder.

He made a mental note to himself that she was always fly.

Aku probably woke up in cute shit. Meanwhile, he was a plain ol’ nigga in jeans and a hoodie.

Inside, Qamar and Siasia were in the back room talking low, probably about plays and family budgets. The kids had gone upstairs to watch something on the projector. Aku led Malik into the kitchen.

“Spot nice,” he said, setting the goods on the counter.

“Thanks but it’s a rental.”

“Shit still nice.” His brown eyes bounced around the room.

She checked the packaging. “You labeled everything?”

“Of course. I don’t trust people’s tolerance levels.”

“You assuming I’m lightweight?”

“Nah, I’m protecting my future clientele.”

She snorted. “So I’m a business risk now?”

“You a walking headline. I can’t have ‘Stylist collapses after Plugged In drop’ floating around.”

Aku nodded, pulling out a pre-rolled blunt. Digging in her purse, she flicked the lighter.

“You can smoke in here?”

“I don’t know,” her voice came out muffled as she inhaled the potent weed. “He got enough money to pay if we can’t.”

That made Malik pause. He wasn’t broke but never had enough money to waste just because someone wanted to break the rules.

He was still tucked at his people’s house because he couldn’t afford to pay Pharaoh’s bills and get his own spot.

It was a choice of this or that. And since Pharaoh couldn’t walk, Malik ate the sacrifice like it was dessert.

They sat on the couch. He leaned back like he’d been there before. She kicked off her shoes and tucked one leg underneath herself.

“You ever played soccer?” she asked, grabbing a bottle of water.

“Nah, I was a hooper. Still got a lil jumper on me.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Next link, then,” he said. “You pick the park. I’ll bring the smoke.”

“I’mma bring a stretcher for your ankles.”

Malik laughed. “You talk spicy for somebody that weigh a buck twenty soakin’ wet.”

“I’m one twenty with an attitude.”

“Ten of them pounds from your big ass head,” he said, grinning.

She sucked her teeth and shook her head.

From the back room, they heard a muffled laugh from Qamar, followed by Siasia’s voice. It wasn’t loud, but it was that playful, married-kind-of-flirty. Malik arched a brow.

“Sounds like they good,” he said.

“They always good,” Aku replied, leaning back. “They one of those couples that actually like each other still… so much more than love.”

“That’s a big difference,” he said.

She nodded. “I want that.”

“You could have that.”

“With who?” she laughed lightly, not really asking.

Malik didn’t answer. He just looked at her.

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling like the air shifted.

“Nothing,” he said. “You just look good when you not trying too hard.”

“I’m never trying too hard.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You always flirt like this?”

“Only when it feels like breathing.”

“You really need to step your game up, playboy.”

It was Malik’s turn to laugh. “You funny, Dorothy.”

Aku scrunched her face. She wanted to ask why he kept calling her Dorothy, but the sound of Qamar and Siasia giggling came down the hall caught her attention.

“Oh,” Siasia halted.

Qamar moved around her, trying to see what she was talking about. When he laid his eyes on Malik, he tilted his head. “The weed man?”

“Key,” Malik wiggled his nose to introduce himself. He had manners, but had to get a feel for niggas before he became too friendly. One wrong move could cost him his life.

Aku stood up. “Oh, umm, this is my friend.” It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “He brought weed.” She waved the blunt in the air, begging her Uncle to act right with her eyes.

Siasia pushed forward first. “Hey, Key. I’m Siasia and this is my husband, Qamar.”

Qamar finally nodded his head in greeting, making his way to the pack on the kitchen counter.

Malik did the same, taking a seat on one of the fancy barstools.

“You label the sativa?” Qamar asked, inspecting.

“Right here,” Malik pointed, relaxing just a little. “Sia for daytime, Indi for night. The rest’s just hybrids depending on what you on.”

Qamar cracked a smile. “You sound like you really study this shit.”

“I do,” Malik nodded. “Ain’t just about rolling up. I like knowing what I’m putting in people’s bodies. My connect is the truth.”

Qamar gave a slow nod. “Respect. That’s rare.”

Once Qamar picked the strain of his choosing, he flicked the flame to the end of the blunt, his head flowing into a soft nod, complimenting the flavor. “Damn!” His eyes went to Malik and he slapped hands with him. “I’m fuckin’ with this.”

Malik looked at Aku, who gave him that smile again - soft but confident.

The silence settled in again, but this time it wasn’t stiff. It was easy…comfortable…familiar even.

Aku broke it first. “You hungry? We got hella food in there.”

Malik ran his hand down his head with a smirk on his face. “Hella? You been in LA too damn long,” he teased. “But I could eat.”

Siasia caught the look in Aku’s eyes and couldn’t help but snicker.

The easy back-and-forth, the subtle flirting—it reminded her of when Qamar first laid eyes on her.

He’d been hooked from the jump, drawn in by a spirit he couldn’t name, but felt deeply.

She recognized that same hesitation in Key.

That quiet awareness. She knew what it was to be in the presence of love and legacy and suddenly question everything you thought made sense.

How you’d been surviving before someone walked in and made you realize you were never really living.

There was something about Lunar’s people—the way they carried his spirit, how they kept attracting the ones who didn’t know they needed saving, until they were already halfway healed.

Siasia grabbed Qamar’s hand and kissed his cheek. “Come on, let them breathe.”

Of course Qamar had to give his niece and her friend one last look, but then decided to have a night cap with his wife while the kids were out of their hair.

Once they disappeared down the hall, back into the room they’d be occupying, Malik stood up - stretching his arms.

“Come on,” Aku said. “But you washing dishes if I fix your plate.”

“Say less,” he replied with a half smirk, counting steps in his head every time they moved around the house. Malik needed to know how long it would take him to get to every exit.

After they ate, she led him back to the living room. An R&B playlist was still spinning through the TV speakers on low volume. Jastin Martin’s “Love it here” came on, sultry and slow. The room dimmed between the dusk light and weed smoke.

“This my shit,” Aku whispered, swaying a little where she stood.

“You tryna dance?” Malik asked, his voice low but playful.

She turned halfway towards him, biting her lip. “Don’t play unless you got rhythm. I’m a dance champion.”