Page 25

I sat back in a folding chair, legs stretched out, a cold drink sweating in my hand.

The bass from Frankie Beverly & Maze thumped low through the Bluetooth speaker somebody had set up by the porch.

A couple of my cousins were dancing like fools near the fire pit, and one of the uncles was arguing about spades like money was on the line.

Then I spotted my mama who was sitting at the long table under the big oak tree.

Denim and Lexi had her surrounded, fussing over her like she was royalty, and honestly, she deserved it.

She was glowing in the golden light, smiling that tired but grateful kind of smile—like the world was still spinning, but for once, it was spinning in her favor.

“Hey, handsome.” Olivia came over and parked it on my lap. “You look happy!” She pecked my lips.

“I am. Are you good?”

“Yes. Your mom is so beautiful and sweet.”

“Yeah. I’m glad to have her out of that hellhole.”

“I know, baby.” She smiled that gorgeous smile I loved before continuing, “Did I tell you how fine you look today?” She captured my lips, quickly slipping her tongue into my mouth before ending the kiss, leaving me craving more.

“You better stop that before I take you inside and dig in them guts, Cin.” I gently bit down on her neck, making her body shiver.

She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Big Bo.”

Just then, the DJ switched the vibe, and that unmistakable beat dropped. Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up.” As soon as that “Cash Money Records takin’ over” line hit the speakers, the backyard erupted.

“Ayyyeee!” Lexi hollered, already on her feet.

“Oh shoot! This is my song! Let me go and show them how it’s done!” Olivia hopped off my lap and went to join the ladies.

Like clockwork, all the women stood up like they’d just heard the national anthem. Plates were tossed to the side, drinks raised, and hips started moving before anyone even made it to the center of the yard.

Olivia, Lexi, and Denim made a beeline for my mama, who was mid-laugh with Aunt Fee. I saw the exact second she tried to protest, shaking her head and waving her hands. But they weren’t having it.

“Nah, Miss Zora! Get up!” Olivia grinned, grabbing her hand.

Deuce laughed as Lexi hyped it up.

Olivia, already halfway bent over, added, “We outside, baby! Let’s go!”

Next thing I knew, my mama was up, hesitant at first, then loosening up as the crowd around them started cheering. She threw her hands in the air, laughing with that same spark I hadn’t seen in her since I was a kid.

And then she called herself dropping it low. I had to look away, chuckling to myself and shaking my head. “Man, come on,” I muttered, sipping my drink and shielding my eyes. “I do not need to see my mama backin’ it up.”

Uncle Junior passed by cackling. “She still got it, nephew! And I see your woman got it too. You sure you can handle all that, nephew?” Unc stated looking at Olivia, and I wanted to slap his ass.

“Unc, don’t make me fuck your drunk ass up,” I warned, my tone low but sharp as a blade. “Keep your eyes off my woman.”

Uncle Junior raised his hands in mock surrender, the half-empty red cup in his grip sloshing a little.

“My bad, nephew. Damn! I ain’t mean no disrespect.

I’m just sayin’… she fine, boy. Got that snapback on her.

Remind me of when your Aunt KeKe had it like that back in the day. Now, she one chicken bone away from?—”

“Say it, nigga! I dare you!” Aunt KeKe snapped from the folding chair behind him. Her neck rolled with every syllable as she pointed her grilled corn like a weapon. “I dare you to finish that sentence… standing there lookin’ like Mr. Brown in them tight-ass plaid pants, talkin’ greasy.”

The whole table burst into laughter, even Uncle Junior, who was too drunk to be offended and too country to care.

“You got it, baby.” He chuckled, holding his stomach. “Damn, always gotta take it there.”

“Take it there? You've been living there!” Aunt KeKe shot back. “Now, hush up and go eat your baked beans before you embarrass this whole family.”

I shook my head. There banter was nothing new which was why the whole family tuned in when they argued because they were sure enough going to get a good laugh.

The music kept bumping, laughter filled the air, and the grill smoke swayed through the golden streaks of the setting sun. It was a perfect evening, one of those rare moments where everything felt damn near peaceful.

Then, I saw Grandma step out the back door, holding a foiled pan, and sat it on the food table. She had a look on her face I remembered as kid—one that was calm but focused. The same look she used to wear right before she snatched somebody up for acting out in church.

I watched her walk toward my mama, who was mid-laugh, dancing with Olivia and Lexi, when Grandma leaned in and whispered something in her ear.

That’s when I saw it. Her whole body stiffened. Her shoulders locked up like she’d just been hit with ice water. She blinked a few times, like whatever Grandma said needed a second to process.

Then, her eyes found mine across the yard. I paused mid-sip of my drink, watching her watching me. She looked shaken. Not scared but unsettled, and I didn’t like the shit. What the fuck was going on?

She turned back to Grandma, and they exchanged a few quiet words I couldn’t hear over the bass thumping through the speakers. Whatever it was, it wasn’t long. Grandma touched her arm gently, gave her a look, and my mama gave a short nod.

They both walked straight into the house without another word. My eyes followed them the whole way because something was off.

I set my cup down on the cooler and walked toward the house, easing the screen door open and entering inside. I slowed my steps and moved closer to the kitchen, staying just out of sight in the hallway, when I heard my grandma's uneasy voice.

“You need to tell him, Zora,” my grandmother said, firm but gentle. “That boy deserves the truth.”

“I know! But you had no right butting in my business,” my mother replied angrily.

Then I heard a man’s voice say, “Wait a damn minute, Zora. You've been hiding my son from me for thirty-three years? You looked me in the face and said he wasn’t mine when I asked you. Told me there was no chance, and now… I gotta hear from your mother that I got a whole grown-ass son out here?”

“You don’t get to be mad now, Charles,” she shot back, but the bite in her voice was gone. “You didn’t want a baby. Ain’t that what you said to me when I told you that I might be pregnant.”

“Yes. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take care of my responsibilities!”

“Enough! What’s done is done. Y’all need to tell Boris the truth.”

“Tell me the truth about what?” I stepped into the kitchen after hearing enough.

All three heads snapped in my direction.

My mother froze, her eyes wide with panic, mouth parting like the words were caught in her throat.

The man was tall and built, with eyes too familiar to be ignored, staring at me.

His face was unreadable, but I could see something flicker there.

Regret, maybe? Or recognition? That was possible also.

Grandma let out a long sigh as if she knew this moment had been creeping toward us for years.

“Baby…” my mother said, inching toward me. “I?—”

I threw up my hand to stop her, my heart hammering in my chest. “Nah. Don’t baby me. I need answers. Now!” I pointed directly at the man. “And who the hell is this nigga?”

He stepped forward calmly, voice low but certain. “My name is Charles Boris Smith.”

My brows pulled tight. “And? The hell that got to do with me?”

He looked at me, then really looked at me, and I felt like I was staring at an older, wearier version of myself. Same build. Same jaw. Same damn eyes.

“According to your mother, I’m your father.”

The words hit me square in the chest.

I blinked before laughing once, hollow and humorless. “Nah. No. My father’s name was Henry. I put a bullet in that nigga and sent him straight to hell,” I said with malice, my voice rough.

“Henry ain’t your daddy, Boris,” Grandma said quietly. “Never was.”

I turned back to my mother. “So… you've been lying to me my whole life? Why?!” I yelled, making her jump, spit flying out my mouth.

By this time, some family members came into the house, including Olivia, Lexi, Deuce, and Boston. But I didn’t give a fuck.

My mama stood, lips trembling. “Because…”

“Because, what?!” I raised my voice again, my jaws locking.

“Baby… at the time, Charles was married and…”

“So you was this nigga’s side piece?” I chuckled angrily.That smart remark earned me a slap across the face from my mother.

“Watch your damn mouth!” My mother snapped, voice shaking with a mix of anger and guilt. “Now, I know what I did was wrong, but you will not disrespect me!”

Before I could fire back, the man Charles cut in, trying to play peacemaker.

“Aye, let’s just calm down. Young man, I may not have been in your life, but you’re being real disrespectful right now. That’s your mother. Have some respect.”

I turned on him so fast he flinched. “Nigga, respect these nuts! You don’t know me!” I barked, chest rising and falling with rage I couldn’t even name yet.

His jaw flexed. “You got every right to be angry, son?—”

“Don’t call me that!” I snapped. “You don’t get to use that word with me.”

My mother stepped in between us, holding her hands out, eyes pleading. “Bo, please. I know this is a lot, but…”

I didn’t let her finish. I slammed my hand through the wall, creating a big hole. Olivia came and stood by me. She placed her hand on my shoulder, but I knocked it off. I didn’t want to be touched. I know this wasn’t her fault, but right now, it was fuck everybody.

I walked past the crowd without saying a word, down the steps, and around the side of the house.

My blood was boiling, and my fists were clenched so tightly my knuckles cracked.

I didn’t stop until I hit the garage, yanked the door up, and stood staring at the only thing that ever gave me peace when my world got too damn loud: my bike.

The matte black Harley Davidson sat there like it had been waiting for me, untouched, just like I left it months ago. I didn’t hesitate. I snatched the keys off the hook, grabbed my helmet hanging from the wall, and threw my leg over the seat in one fluid motion.

My chest rose and fell with each breath, and I could feel the heat still burning under my skin. I needed to get the hell out of here before I said something I couldn’t take back or broke something I couldn’t fix.

As the engine roared to life, I caught Olivia walking into the garage. I raked my hand down my face, trying to hold the pieces of myself together. My jaw clenched, and my chest tightened. I just needed some air. Some distance. Something to outrun the betrayal clawing at my insides.

“Baby…” Her voice was soft and careful, like I was a grenade with the pin halfway out. “I know you’re hurting, and I know you need space, but please, please be careful.”

She came closer with no hesitation in her steps, and placed her hands on either side of my face. Her fingers were warm. Anchoring. Then, she kissed me slow, deep, and full of everything I couldn’t give her back at that moment.

I could taste her tears as they slipped between us, salty and honest. But even her love, real and raw as it was, couldn’t fix the hole burning in my chest.

“I love you, baby, and please don’t shut me out…” Her voice cracked.

My only response was sliding my helmet on and giving her one last look, before revving the engine and speeding out of the garage with the weight of the world on my shoulders.