Page 16

“Not exactly. She has about thirty-six hours before I start feeding her myself.”

“Good, because she works her body way too hard not to be packing it with the right sources of nutrients. Water won’t cut it.”

“Exactly.”

“Ugh, I feel so awful when she does that. Been going on for years.”

“It stops this year. It’s not healthy. She deserves better. Her body deserves better.”

“When she’s ready, you know I will create a plan for her; prepare her meals if she feels like it’s too much.”

“I might take you up on that offer much sooner than later.”

“I’d like that.”

“Look what the hell the cat done shitted out,” my father belted.

His blunt nature had helped me grow tough skin quicker than most children. I removed the wrap from the bag and pulled out the trashcan to toss the paper.

“I was thinking the same thing when I heard your voice. You made it out of the liter box, again, huh?”

“That dust can’t hold a player down. Don’t act brand new.” He chuckled. “I’m too slick for that shit. You know what’s up with me.”

“I don’t know nothing. Keep moving your hips like that and you’re going to need a replacement. You know them long limbs flimsy as a paper plate. You sneeze and three bones are fractured. Automatically.”

“You have these same limbs. Just wait until you get this age, nigga. You better hope you can move like this,” he teased, sliding from one side to the other as if he was doing the electric slide.

“I can’t believe you married this man,” I said, turning to my mother with one side of my lip turned upward.

“And fucked ‘em and had your big head ass,” he added.

“Pops– chill.”

“You chill, nigga. Soft ass light-skinned motherfuckers always whining. Pops chill. Chill out. All that bitching.”

My mother and I matched each other’s gaze. Chill wasn’t in my father’s vocabulary. I couldn’t help the chortle that fell from my mouth. I massaged my forehead with my index and thumb.

“You finished yet? Light-skin?”

“Nigga, I’m brown. There’s a difference.”

“Is there? Because last time I checked, your skin is much more fair than mine.”

“But, my heart ain’t.”

Chuckling, I pointed in his direction. “Is your husband serious right now?”

“Dead motherfucking serious, young buck.”

“Can’t be. Your last name is De Bacco. Your mother is Italian. Your father is Italian and African American. Your hair is sandy. Your eyes are hazel. The hair on your balls aren’t even dark brown.”

“All y’all asses is gay now. Worried about the next man’s balls. Wouldn’t know good pussy if it slapped you across the face.”

“Elio– please .”

“I rest my case.”

“You never had one, Saint.”

“Your name is Elio! Elio . You have no grounds here.”

“Fuck you,” he spat, giving up the debate that I was still baffled by.

Laughter made my belly cave.

“This man is insufferable.”

“Imagine marrying him,” my mother groaned.

“Pops,” I called out, watching him bite into the lettuce wrap I’d brought my mother.

“Fuck you calling my name for and I’m right here?”

Ignoring his ignorance, I continued, “Somebody finally moving into the house up the street they’ve been building.”

“House? Son, this is a house. That– that down there– I don’t know what to call that shit.

A damn compound it looks like. It’s three different structures, all similar in size.

Somehow they are not combined but combined.

There’s a garden that wraps around the entire backside.

A pool. Olympian-style. It’s ridiculous.

And, a full gym. A dance studio. Some other shit I can’t think of right now. The family must be large.”

“There isn’t a family. There was only a woman– and a man.”

“Married,” my father asked.

“Didn’t seem like it. Maybe siblings,” my mother informed us.

“You saw them?”

“Yes. On my way in. They were standing outside of the gate messing with the private property sign.”

“Yeah, I saw that when I just rode by. Pops, you been inside the fence?”

“I snuck my ass over there when I saw they were digging to prep for the fence. I figured it was my chance.”

“I wish you would’ve let me know. I would’ve took that chance with you.”

“Nigga, you don’t know shit about taking chances.”

“You listen to too much rap. Keep this man off the internet, I don’t know who he thinks he is but he ain’t him.”

My mother lowered her head, shaking it.

“He’s on that computer at all hours of the night. Getting on my nerves, son.”

“I can hear it every time he opens his mouth.”

“Don’t worry about me opening my mouth. What you be opening your mouth for? Coochie or d–”

“Elio!” My mother warned.

“Just ruthless,” I laughed.

“You’ll have the chance to see the home, Sac. Or at least the front of it, because we’re welcoming them to the neighborhood next week.”

“Being the self-appointed welcome committee for the neighborhood is– is quite special. As much as I’d love to walk around passing out cupcakes with you, I’ll have to pass on this one.”

“No you won’t,” my father stated as a matter of fact.

“How you figure?” I asked the old man who couldn’t control the shit that came out of his mouth.

“Cause– didn’t you hear her?”

“I did.”

“Then, have your long ass here Tuesday. That’s when we’re going over there.”

“I’m not coming.”

“Yes you are. It’s a woman. Is she nice looking, baby?”

“She is, but that has nothing to do with our son.”

“Thank you. I’m engaged to be married. I’m aware you’re losing your mind, but have you lost your memory too?”

“Shit, I thought you had forgotten that shit your damn self.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

“Boy, it’s been five motherfucking years. Tell that girl to pawn the ring and y’all gone ’bout y’all business.”

“It’s been three. And, no one is rushing. When we’re ready and both have the time, we’ll wed. Until then, mind your business.”

“You are my business.”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“And, I ain’t got one grandbaby yet.”

“Talking the way you be talking and acting the way you be acting– that’s probably a good thing.”

“Hell you think I’m doing all this for– my grandkids . I’d hate to be an old washed up ass nigga by the time you decide to give me some.”

“Get your husband,” I advised as I pushed off the counter.

I brought my mother in for a hug.

“I’m going to get out of here. I have to shower and count a few Zs before seeing Aliza tonight.”

“Okay, son. Be careful. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I made my way toward the hallway. Before exiting the kitchen, I stopped in front of my father.

“You, too, light-skinned.”

“Boy, fuck you with a decomposing dick.”

Laughing, I put distance between us. From over the years, I’d learned to keep a safe distance because my father would strike at any time.

“I need to see you on that wood tomorrow, old man.”

“You will. Always will.”

I exited my parent’s home, finally ready to feel the warmth of the water from my shower.

Aliza’s pussy had left evidence of its presence on my balls, briefs, and brain this morning.

I was counting down the minutes until I was back in her guts, digging into her with little remorse.

She was a good girl who deserved good dick in the worst of ways.

Darkness surrounded me. The long days and even longer nights had finally caught up to me. My sheets had never felt so inviting, so devouring. They wrapped around my long limbs like a much needed hug and made promises to never let go.

“Fuck.” I groaned.

A yawn moved every muscle in my face. My eyes teared up, stinging as the moment took its precious time passing.

“Shit,” I breathed out.

Incoherent, I patted around the bed to find my cell. Within a second it was in my hand. I blinked back the moisture in my eyes, trying to make sense of the blurriness.

7:48p.

I bolted from the bed.

“Aliza,” I rushed out. “Fuck.”

Although my thoughts were running a mile a minute, my movements were contradicting. I despised the rush. It felt all too familiar. I rushed down a court in my professional life. Every day. Almost all day.

I didn’t desire that in my personal life. It didn’t matter how late I was. Moving hastily wouldn’t change the outcome, only the time I arrived. Still, I’d be late; whether by five minutes or fifteen.

Still, my adrenaline pumped as I slipped into a pair of denim jeans. A denim button down fell just beneath the Hermes belt I looped through my jeans. I followed with a black Saint Laurent cap and black Saint Laurent sneakers to match.

I slid the two tone diamond Rolex on my left wrist. Two diamond bracelets rested on the right wrist. Matching ropes layered on my chest. I stepped downstairs minutes after I’d awakened. In the full-length mirror that Aliza cleaned religiously, I stood, making sure my shit was in order.

Satisfied with all that I had going on, I secured the gold grill on my bottom teeth.

Black shades covered my eyes as I entered my six car garage.

I lifted the door to the third slot. The black Ferrari felt most fitting for the night ahead.

I wasn’t sure what I’d be getting into, but by the night’s end, I knew who I’d be getting into. For now, that was enough.

“Ignoring my calls– sneaking off in the middle of the night– who raised you?”

Nadia stood on the other side of my garage with two glass dishes in her hand.

“Shit. I’ve been meaning to call you back all day,” I admitted. “I fell asleep after my shower and overslept.”

“I see. And, now you’re headed–”

“To Aliza. Ride with me.”

“And do what with this food?”

“You brought food–” I acknowledged.

“I did.”

“I appreciate you, big sis.”

“Well, I had a feeling you would be needing dinner. Mom told me Aliza is preparing for another big performance.”

“Yes.”

Having mothers as best friends was both a gift and a curse for Aliza and I. Because they were best friends, we managed to avoid countless heartbreaks and find each other much sooner than the average couple. However, that meant very little was kept between us.

“Tomorrow. You can have it tomorrow.”

“I will. Shit, probably later tonight. I’m not eating heavy before I play tomorrow.”

She entered the garage, depleting the distance between us.

“Here– take this. I’ll be waiting.”

“Aight. I’ll be right back. Make sure you’re in the passenger seat. Not the fucking driver seat.”

Chuckling, Nadia shrugged. “And, if I’m not?”

“I’m taking another car and leaving you there wishing and hoping I’ll let you drive again one day.”

She’d shown me one too many times that the Ferrari wasn’t her friend.

“Fine.”

I turned and headed back inside.

“You look nice by the way!”

“So do you,” I tossed over my shoulder.

She was dressed in a black silk skirt and a black graphic tee. On her feet were a pair of slide-in shoes with a large heel that covered the entire sole. Her jewelry was subtle but noticeably expensive. I’d purchased every piece she was wearing so I was well aware of the price tags.

When I returned, she was in her rightful place. I lowered my body to fit into the fine machinery. The engine roared as I lowered both doors. The sounds of my stereo vibrated the steering wheel as I reversed out of the garage in pursuit of Huff Theater of Clarke. My baby was waiting.