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Here, the air always smelled like home cooked meals, the TV was always just a little too loud, and the house was full of love. I let myself in, already grinning at the sound of my mama’s voice in the kitchen.

“Y’all bring y’all asses in here before this food get cold!”

“Damn, Ma, can we sit down first?” Kingston laughed, dropping onto the couch like he paid bills here.

I went straight to the kitchen, where my mama stood at the stove, stirring a pot with one hand, holding her glass of Crown Royal and Coke in the other.

Queenie Teegan was all attitude, all heart, and didn’t take shit from nobody.

Dark skin, high cheekbones, a sharp bob that stayed laid, and eyes that could cut through bullshit from a mile away.

My mama had been fine as hell her whole life, and she still was, even though she’d tell you she was “too old for all that.”

She turned, smiling the moment she saw me. “There go my baby.”

I grinned, stepping forward and wrapping her up in a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hey, Ma.”

She pulled back, smacking my chest lightly. “Boy, let me look at you. You eat today?”

I smirked. “Nah, I was waiting on you to cook.”

She sucked her teeth but looked pleased. “You lucky I love you.”

“I know,” I said, pulling up a seat at the kitchen island as she went back to the stove. “So how was your day?”

She waved a hand, sipping her drink. “Same shit, different day. You know how it go. What about you?”

I leaned back, rubbing my jaw. “Logan came by the studio.”

Queenie glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah? What he want?”

I sighed. “To tell me my music sound the same and he bringing in some new producer to ‘switch it up’.” I put that in air quotes, already annoyed all over again.

Her brows lifted. “And what’s wrong with that? Sometimes change can be good. You never know what can come out of this. At least if you do it and it doesn’t work you can say you tried at least.”

I frowned. “Ma.”

She shrugged, turning back to the stove. “I said what I said.”

“It ain’t even just a producer,” I muttered, shaking my head. “He want me to work with some Hollywood actress from that corny-ass witch show Princess be watching.”

My mama turned this time, fully facing me. “Who?”

“Some chick named Averi St. Claire.”

She blinked. “Wait, the lil’ girl from The Coven ?”

I rolled my eyes. “Man, yes.”

She pursed her lips, considering. “Huh. I mean, she is talented, Royal.”

I frowned. “Ma, no. Don’t tell me you on his side too.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I mean, I ain’t gon’ lie, baby—your music do be sounding the same sometimes.”

I sucked my teeth. “Wow, so this is what betrayal feels like?”

Queenie swatted me with a dish towel. “Boy, hush.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, shaking my head. “Look, I get that Logan want me to go bigger, but I ain’t tryin’ to change what works.”

She sighed, placing a plate of food in front of me. “Royal… sometimes, we get too comfortable in what we think is workin’. But that don’t mean it can’t get better.”

I sat there, picking at my plate, not responding.

She watched me for a moment before softening her voice. “Just try it, baby. If it don’t work, then it don’t work. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

I looked down at my food, silent. I didn’t wanna try. Didn’t wanna change. Didn’t wanna let some outsider come in and act like she knew me better than I knew myself. But I also didn’t want my album shelved.

“We’ll see.” That was all I gave her because that’s all I had it in me to give. She just smiled, satisfied.

Dinner was the usual—loud, funny, full of love.

Princess was on her phone talking about her acceptance into Spelman, King was stealing food off her plate just to piss her off, and Zay was talking shit like he was a blood relative instead of just my best friend.

And through it all, I felt at peace because this was my family, this was what I endured bullshit for; to see them all happy.

By the time we cleaned up, it was just me and Ma, sitting at the table, sipping on drinks. She tilted her head at me. “You talk to your daddy lately?”

I nodded, stretching out my legs. “Yeah. Called me the other day. Asked about you, like always.”

She exhaled, looking away. I studied her, noticing that look she got every time we talked about him.

That mix of love, pain, and guilt she never fully admitted to.

She divorced him years ago, but I knew—deep down, she still loved him.

But she couldn’t be with him. Not because he was serving a life sentence in prison, that wasn’t the issue; but the outside women and child that she found out about once he did go in, that was something she couldn’t deal with and I didn’t even blame her.

She tried to shield us from that shit for so long, but King was old enough to know and he told me.

To this day King didn’t really fuck with our Pops like that no more.

He accepted some of his calls but not all.

And when Pops started talking that bullshit, King was quick to end that shit.

I, on the other hand, tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Yeah the shit he did was fucked up, but he was still my Pops and for all my life up until he went to jail he had taken care of us and loved us.

She sipped her drink. “I just… I hate how things ended.”

“I know.”

Silence stretched between us before she sighed and changed the subject. “Go on, boy. Get outta my kitchen.”

I smirked, standing up and pressing one more kiss to her forehead before heading out. As I stepped into the night air, Logan’s words lingered in my head.

You gotta let go of your ego.

I shook my head, pulling out my phone. I wasn’t letting go of shit.