Page 15 of Gotta Jones For Ya

“I don’t even know what the fuck you done did to me, but I like it.”

The next mornin’, we was lyin’ up in my bed, both ass naked wit’ her bonnet hangin’ halfway off, one leg tossed over the sheet. Shit felt too right.

“Boy, shut up,”

Nyomi mumbled, voice all raspy and mornin’ soft, not even openin’ her eyes.

“Ain’t nobody did nothing to you.”

I smirked, rubbin’ a hand down my face before reachin’ for her waist under the covers.

“Lyin’ like that first thing in the mornin’ gotta be bad for your soul, baby.”

She laughed low, all warm and shit. I pulled her in closer, pressed a kiss behind her ear, and just lay there for a minute. Shit felt peaceful.

“You like your bacon crispy or soft?”

I asked, already swingin’ my legs off the bed.

She opened one eye.

“I know you ain’t about to cook…”

“Hell nah.”

I laughed all the way to the bathroom to take a piss, then opened the Uber Eats app. I couldn’t cook for shit.

Thirty minutes later, we was still in my bed but wit’ food plates on a tray. Juice. Syrup on her thigh from me being extra wit’ the French toast. She tried to smack me and ended up moanin’ when I licked it off. Real intimate type shit I usually run from but wit’ Nyomi I was cool standin’ still.

“So you talk about your grandmother, but what about your mom? She’s in East Hollis, too?”

she asked mid-bite.

I shook my head.

“Nah. Cancer took her when I was eight. That’s when shit got real for me. Had to grow up fast, feel me?”

Her face softened.

“Damn… I’m sorry, Keon.”

I waved it off gently.

“It made me who I am. I’d give anything to hug her again, but I know she proud of me. Least I hope she is.”

Then she asked, “You got any siblings aside from your sister?”

“Yeah, two half-brothers I don’t fuck wit’ or talk to. They on some weird shit. What about you?”

“Only child,”

she said, fork scrapin’ her plate.

“I always wanted a big family, though. The loud kind. Cookouts. Birthday trips. Matching pajamas for Christmas.”

I raised an eyebrow, gulpin’ down my cranberry juice.

“Matchin’ pajamas, huh?”

She laughed and nodded.

“Yeah. Don’t judge me.”

“I ain’t judgin’. I’m tryna figure out how many kids we need to make that happen.”

She blinked. I was dead serious. “Wait—we?”

she asked.

“Hell yeah,”

I replied, taking a bite of French toast.

“You talkin’ like you tryna build that life, and I’m sittin’ here wonderin’ what’s stoppin’ us from gettin’ started.”

She laughed hard, covering her mouth.

“You're insane. Slow down.”

“I’m serious,”

I said, leanin’ over to snatch her fork.

“Lemme put some babies in you.”

Her eyes damn near popped out. “Keon!”

“What?”

I smirked.

“You said you want a big family. What’s good? I'll shoot the club up right now.”

“Oh, God…”

“I’m sayin’, imagine a lil girl wit’ your pretty ass face and my attitude. Or a son who look like me but walk ‘round soft for his mama, and slap niggas over you.”

She shook her head, but I could tell the idea had her in a chokehold. Her lips parted like she was gon’ argue, but instead she let out a low, “You’re really saying anything this morning.”

“And I mean every word,”

I said, leanin’ in to kiss her slowly, syrup and all.

We kept eatin’ and talkin’ about everything and nothin’. Favorite cartoons, what we used to get whooped for, dumb shit we did as teens, music we grew up on. She ended up wit' her foot hooked over my ankle and her head on my chest wit’ my arm tucked under her neck like I ain’t never needed that hand for nothin’ else.

**

“Damn, I love that fuckin’ perfume.”

Nyomi laughed softly. I was posted in the doorway, keys in one hand, eyes on her as she came down the staircase. She had on a brown fitted halter top dress and some heels, lookin’ good as fuck. I just wanted to drag her ass back in the same bed it took us forever to roll out of.

We was already runnin’ late, though, and I knew my grandmama was finna talk shit. She didn’t play about Sunday dinners at her crib.

“Are you gonna compliment every single day?”

she teased, brushin’ past me in that soft-ass material that clung to her ass like it knew what it was restin’ on. Perfection.

“I’ma compliment you ‘til the day I die. Then haunt you and keep goin’.”

She giggled and shook her head, grabbin’ her lil’ purse and the cookies she insisted I go out and grab. She said she wasn’t steppin’ foot inside my grandmama’s house empty-handed.

“I’m nervous,”

she mumbled once we got in the truck.

“Like… what if they don’t like me?”

I reached over, laid my palm on her thigh, and squeezed.

“Don’t give a fuck who like you. I fuck wit’ you. That’s enough.”

She looked at me for a long second, lips pressed together like she was tryin’ not to melt and shit.

“You always say the most gangsta shit in the softest way,”

she whispered.

I smirked, backin’ out the driveway.

“You gon’ fall in love wit’ a nigga. I’m tellin’ you.”

We hit River Ave, then cut down some blocks I knew too well. Nyomi bobbed her head to Duffle Bag Trappy’s latest EP, rubbin’ her thumb across the back of my hand on her thigh.

“I feel like I’m meeting the parts of you that built the man I’ve been beating down these walls… literally and figuratively. I like this.”

I glanced over at her, jaw clenched tight just to keep from kissin’ her at the damn red light.

“You gon’ make me crash this muthafucka.”

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to my grandmama’s crib, and Nyomi adjusted the custom Cuban around her neck, then looked over at me.

“I look okay?”

I turned off the engine and reached for her chin, anglin’ her face toward mine.

“You bad as fuck. Don’t question that shit.”

Her breath hitched. I kissed her real soft, then grabbed the cookies and climbed out, coming to open her door.

“C’mon, girl. They gon’ love you.”

Before I even knocked, the front door opened like clockwork.

“There he go! Boy, you late!”

Granny hollered from behind her screen door, apron on, gray hair twisted up in a silk scarf.

“My bad. Lost track of time,”

I said, pullin’ Nyomi close to my side.

“I want you to meet somebody.”

Granny squinted at her, then smiled.

“Ooooh. She’s pretty pretty.”

Nyomi extended the cookie box like a peace offerin’ and shit.

“Hi. I’m Nyomi.”

“Evie. Nice to meet you. Come on in, baby. Long as you got a good appetite and you ain’t vegan or none of that foolishness, you good.”

We stepped inside, and it was instant chaos. Frankie Beverly playin’ low in the background, my Uncle Buck and my two cousins Antt and Wayne laughin’ over drinks, and Mariah dartin’ underfoot wit’ a juice box and a lollipop.

Nyomi gripped my hand tighter.

“You sure about this?”

“Too late now,”

I smirked.

“You already here. I gotchu.”

Ain’t nothin' like Sunday dinner at Granny’s.

The second I sat down, that rich ass smell of baked mac, smoked turkey wings, and yams hit my nose like a warm-ass hug.

Kitchen been smellin' like soul since we walked in, but now that everything was sittin' on the table, includin' bottles of L, shit was damn near spiritual.

Collards still steamin', cornbread smellin' sweet, rice and beans simmerin' like it got secrets. My stomach was growlin' wit' disrespect.

To my right was Nyomi, tryna play shit cool, but I could feel her soakin’ up the whole scene after Granny blessed the food.

“You put your foot in this cornbread, Granny,”

my cousin Antt said, slappin’ butter on his second slice like he was tryna build a damn sandwich wit' it.

“I ain’t even put no syrup on it this time.”

“That’s ‘cause you finally got taste buds,”

Keema snapped, rollin’ her eyes from across the table.

“You twenty-eight and just now learnin’ flavor.”

“Girl, shut the hell up,”

he shot back, but he was smilin’.

“You still don’t know how to burn in the kitchen like this. Grow up.”

“Fuck you.”

“Y’all bickerin’ over food like I won’t bust a cap in both of y’all asses,”

Granny threatened, and we all laughed.

The mood was cool as fuck until Keema’s baby father, Milton, reached across Nyomi for the hot pan of baked mac.

“Damn, nigga!”

I barked.

“Say excuse me, greedy muthafucka.”

“My bad, my bad,”

he muttered, barely lookin’ up.

“I just needed another scoop.”

“It’s fine,”

Nyomi said, just lookin’ back and forth like she was watchin’ a tennis match. She leaned into me and whispered, “This is a sitcom.”

“Nah,”

I grinned, kissin’ her temple.

“This is a hood classic.”

Across the table, my niece Mariah had her whole lil’ face in a piece of chicken.

“Baby, you don’t need all that hot sauce,”

Granny said gently.

“It’s gon’ make your stomach bubble.”

“I like spicy,”

she mumbled.

“You gon’ like the toilet too,”

Monae chimed in without even lookin’ up from her phone.

“Give ya mama that damn phone, Nae,”

Uncle Buck barked, snatchin’ it.

“You act like we ain’t sittin’ here as a family.”

“It was just a text!”

she groaned.

“He ain’t wrong,”

Keema cut her eyes at Monae.

“I don’t care if it was Jesus on read. This the only day we all sit down together, you gon’ respect it.”

“Thank you,”

Granny added, fork paused midair.

“All these kids glued to these damn devices these days. I miss the days y’all used to be outside ‘til the street lights came on.”

“You also used to beat our ass wit’ extension cords,”

I mumbled.

“And I’ll bust a cap in your ass now. Try me.”

Laughter exploded ‘round the table. Nyomi smirked, shakin’ her head.

“Y’all are too funny.”

“I swear,”

Antt reached for the Henny.

“Once you come to one dinner, you locked in. Granny, don’t let folks come and go.”

“I already told her she stuck,”

I added, one hand under the table restin’ on Nyomi’s thigh.

“She ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“I like her,”

Granny said suddenly, eyes still on her plate but her voice clear and firm.

“She don’t talk too much. Don’t dress like she goin’ to the club. She listen. And she brought dessert.”

“Period,”

Keema said, holdin’ up her glass of juice like it was wine.

“Bro’s in love.”

“I see that,”

Granny said, finally glancin’ at me wit’ that knowin’ look.

“You softer wit’ her. Eyes don’t move the same. Energy calmer.”

“Calm? Who?”

Nyomi chuckled, and everyone laughed again.

I cleared my throat and rubbed my beard, pretending like I wasn’t caught. Nyomi looked over at me wit’ a lil’ smirk, like she was proud to be the reason I was out here lookin’ whipped. I could see it all over her ass.

Monae asked, “So… are y’all like, datin’? Or are y’all just talkin’ and linkin’ up?”

I blinked. Milt snorted.

“Girl, what you know about linkin’ up?”

Keema asked, her tone sharp.

“Nothin’!”

I chuckled low.

“Nah, Nae, this ain’t that. I’m tryna lock her down ASAP.”

“Ohhhhhh,”

Wayne dragged, tappin’ his glass wit’ a butter knife like we just had a proposal.

“Don’t start that shit,” I warned.

“Too late!”

Uncle Buck hollered.

“We need a toast or some shit.”

“To love!”

Granny lifted her glass.

“To love and some bomb ass greens!”

Antt added.

“To Knuck bringin’ a real one ‘round,”

Keema smirked.

“To her not bein’ scared of this loud ass family,”

Granny threw in.

“To spicy chicken!”

Mariah shouted wit' both hands raised.

Everyone laughed again. Loud. Big. Full.

Nyomi leaned close and whispered, “I love your people.”

I whispered back, “Told you they was gon’ fuck wit’ you.”

**

The last bite of peach cobbler had barely hit my stomach before Granny was pushin’ her chair back wit’ both hands on the table.

“Well,”

she said, lookin’ ‘round.

“I didn’t cook all this food for y’all to just sit and let my kitchen look a mess.”

I chuckled under my breath.

“Knuck, Wayne, Buck, Antt, Milt, y’all go out back,”

she waved toward the door.

“Nyomi, baby. You, Keema, and Monae help me clear this table.”

I looked over at Nyomi and mouthed good luck, tryna keep my laugh in.

She rolled her eyes but grinned, wipin’ her mouth wit’ her napkin.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Aww hell naw,”

Antt said, already pushin’ his chair back.

“She ain’t even blood. Why she gotta help?”

“Cause I said so! Get your ass out my kitchen!”

Granny shot back.

I stood up, grabbed my fitted off the back of the chair, and clapped Wayne on the back.

“C’mon, hoe. Let the ladies work.”

Out back, the air hit a lil’ cooler than I expected. Wayne was already breakin’ down some weed while I sparked up the one I already had rolled. I inhaled and held that shit for a moment before exhalin’.

“You know this where the real talk happen,”

Uncle Buck said, exhalin’.

“Ain’t shit more therapeutic than black men talkin’ outside wit’ smoke in the air and leftovers still warm.”

I smirked.

“That was deep.”

“I’m sayin’ though.”

“Alright, poet,”

Antt joked.

“Where the liquor at?”

“On the table inside,”

I reminded him.

“You scared to go grab it ‘cause your ass gon’ get cussed out?”

“Bitch, I don’t wanna get up. I got a bad back.”

“From what?”

Milt asked.

“Layin’ on your ass all day?”

Wayne took the blunt I passed, but before he hit it, he looked at me and said, “Real shit though, she solid, bro. Nyomi. She move different. Ain’t none of us seen you move this way either.”

I stayed quiet for a second, just lettin’ the smoke swirl out my nose. I wasn’t good wit’ compliments, especially not ones that pulled at shit I wasn’t used to showin’. “Yeah,”

I finally said, noddin’.

“She pressure.”

“That’s rare as hell,”

Antt added.

“Most these women out here want somethin’. Money, name, perks. She actually seemed like she see you.”

“I don’t like that soft-ass tone you usin’,” I joked.

“Nah, for real,”

he continued.

“You always been the cold one. Heart like a vault. Even when you was doin’ dirt heavy. Now you over there tryna feed shorty off your fork like a simp.”

I chuckled.

“That ain’t what happened.”

“That’s exactly what happened, bro,”

Milt laughed.

“Y’all wild.”

“Nah, what’s wild is you not even denyin’ it,”

Uncle Buck said.

“That’s love, nigga.”

“I don’t even know what to call it yet,”

I admitted.

“But it feel good. Calm.”

They nodded.

“I fuck wit’ that,”

Wayne said.

“We need more of that. Whole hood always stressin’, watchin’ they backs, duckin’ karma. You get somethin’ real, you hold it.”

Antt passed me the blunt again.

“Aye, you ever think about kids wit’ her?”

I exhaled slowly.

“Yeah. Shit cross my mind more than a lil’ bit.”

“That’s growth, my boy,”

Milt said.

“Y’all sound like a fuckin’ podcast,”

I smirked.

“Nah,”

Uncle Buck said, clappin’ my shoulder.

“We sound like grown-ass men who seen too much and wanna see better.”

I nodded again, real slow this time.

“I feel that.”

Then, we all got quiet. Not uncomfortable silence. Just that type of quiet where you know you surrounded by muthafuckas who seen your worst, know your dirt and happy as fuck for you. Family. Wasn’t shit like it.