Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Is… is that your little boy? Can I hold—”
“Baby, take him in the house.”
“But—”
“Go in the house, Troi!”
Startled by his tone, Troi quickly went to the entrance of their home, typing in the door code before stepping in. Slowly taking his eyes off his father, he turned them to Layla.
“What’s this?” He asked calmly.
“Why don’t we step inside my house so we can talk?”
“I ain’t going nowhere. Why is he here?”
“Nouri would like it if he could have a conversation with his boys, and I …. I think it would be a good idea as well.”
“I don’t give a damn what Nouri would like. Am I being punk’d or something? Where the cameras at because this shit can’t be real.”
Kas could tell by the tightening of Onyx’s fists and the stern manner in which his eyes were fixated that his temper was about to explode.
“Onyx, the least you can do is hear him out.”
“The least I can do?” And there it was. Kas knew everything was about to go left. “Mumma, I can’t believe you. You told this nigga to come here for what?! Like, have I not taken care of my family well enough?! Huh? The fuck we need him here for?”
“Hold on now, Onyx. Calm your damn voice talking to me like you done lost your fucking mind. I—”
“What? You fucking with this nigga or something? Because that’s the only reason I can think of for you to be acting so damn delusional. Ain’t no way this the woman that raised me standing right here.”
“Nyx, come on, chill talking to mumma like that, nigga. We brought him here to hear him out. Maybe—”
“We?” Onyx turned his angry gaze to his brother, stepping into his personal space.
“You… you were a part of this shit? You of all people, Kasra? Hear him out? Nigga, who was there for you when you were little, huh? Who helped yo ass through tough times growing up? Cooked yo meals while mumma was working, helped with homework, taught you how to ball when you wanted to try out for the team? Huh, nigga? Who sat on the edge of their bed giving you the fucking birds and the bees conversation when you were thirteen? ME! Not this nigga that you all of a sudden feel we need to hear out. I was yo father! Meanwhile, this nigga was off raising his daughter like he didn’t have two sons who needed him. Like we won’t shit!”
Onyx’s chest was heaving up and down, and the features so twisted he was damn near unrecognizable.
Kas’ heart broke witnessing his brother’s heartbreak.
The pain was ten times worse because he’d had a part in inflicting it.
His brother would never do anything to cause him strife, but he hadn’t paid him the same courtesy.
Suddenly, he felt like a traitor. Like a modern day Benedict Arnold and he wished he could take it all back.
“We don’t need him no more, so what the fuck the nigga here for now?
! Huh, mumma?” He turned back to Layla. “Or we grown now, he don’t have to worry about the responsibility, so I guess this is as fine a time as any.
You want to let the nigga make you fucking stupid for him again?
He can just come in and out whenever he chooses because you gone let him, right mumma? ”
Layla gasped, hurt inscribed all over her face. Kas respected Onyx more than any other person in the world, but he would fight him over Layla. He was about to square up with his brother for the disrespect, but Nouri placed a shielding arm between Layla and Onyx.
“Wait a minute, now I get that you’re a grown man. You’re pissed at me and all that. But I’m not gone stand right here and let you talk to your mother like that.”
“So then what the fuck else are you gone do? Huh? What the fuck are YOU gone do? You wanna be a daddy now, nigga, it’s too late for that!
You show up after twenty-something years and tell me how to talk to my mumma.
The woman that I took care of. Take a look around…
.” Onyx held out his hands, turning in a circle.
“I did this, built all this shit from the fucking ground for MY family. Talking ‘bout what you gone let me do. My mumma was fighting cancer… cancer, nigga! Where the fuck were you? For damn sure not here because me, my fiancée and Kas… WE took care of her, but you worried about how I’m talking? You’re a fucking joke.
“How to fight, how to be a man— I taught myself that shit then I taught my brother. Father and son activities I showed up to with uncles or just skipped them all together because I didn’t have a fucking father.
I learned how to love and treat a woman right from my mumma.
Did a lot of shit I had no business doing before I even graduated high school.
But I made something of myself.” Onyx stated as his voice began to break.
“I built a career, nigga. I took us out of Davisville. So you can’t tell me shit, because where the hell were you? !”
Onyx’s chest palpitated while pools of emotion gathered in his eyes.
Nouri lowered his head, feeling the brunt of his eldest son’s words.
He couldn’t find the words to express how horrible he felt for abandoning his responsibilities.
That his son had to be a man long before biology deemed him ready to do so.
He wanted to plead and ask for the opportunity to make it all up.
To atone for his absenteeism. However, he could see nothing he said would change the way his son felt about him.
Raising his head, all he could offer was a simple. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck yo apologies, nigga. Get this muh’fucka off my property.” Onyx demanded before giving them his back, angrily stomping to his home, leaving Kas, Layla and Nouri standing there dumbfounded.
The platinum plaque of Onyx’s song Only for you that Kas produced rattled against the wall as he slammed the front door of his home.
What the hell was he thinking? For the past 27 years, he’d been right by his brother’s side, so he should’ve known better.
Should’ve known forcing him to meet with Nouri was a bad idea.
Now he was sure his best friend in the whole world hated him.
He’d never seen Onyx so mad. At least not at him, and certainly not at Layla.
He wanted nothing more than to call Onyx but was truthfully afraid to do so.
The fear of being cursed out or even worse, excommunicated from his brother’s life kept him from picking up the phone.
Onyx needed time to calm down, but unfortunately for Kas, he couldn’t do the same.
Heading into his kitchen, he made a beeline for the built-in bar and grabbed a bottle of Dussè.
Not even bothering to get a glass, he removed the top from the bottle and took a hefty swig.
Once the initial burn subsided, he followed with another.
The liquor was slowly doing its job, but it wasn’t enough.
To hell with giving time… he needed to speak with his brother.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed Onyx’s number.
He wasn’t surprised that Onyx didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop him from calling right back.
Finally, on the fourth call, he perked up at the sound of someone picking up the phone.
“Nyx?”
“No, it’s me,” Troi whispered into the phone. “I know you want to talk to Onyx, but you have to give him a minute. I’ve never seen him so mad. I don’t think now is a good time.”
“Put him on the phone anyway, Troi. I need to talk to him, so put him on the phone or I’m coming over there.”
“Ugh, hold on.”
Kas could hear shuffling in the background, then he heard Troi softly telling Onyx that he wanted to talk to him.
“I look like I give a fuck what that nigga want, Baby? Get the fuck off my phone and call yo daddy if you want somebody to talk to, nigga!” Onyx yelled in the background.
Kas felt a hollow ache in his chest at his brother’s words, as if a vital part of him was being ripped away. A sharp, sudden pang gripped his chest, making it hard to breathe. He tucked his lips into his mouth, nodding his head derisively.
“Ight, that’s a bet.”
“Kas, wait, I can---”
“Nah, it’s cool, sis. I understand.”
With that, Kas disconnected the call. Going into his pocket, he retrieved a pre-rolled blunt and lighter, sparking it immediately.
With the bottle of liquor in his right and the blunt in his left, he padded his way to the living room, plopping onto the couch.
During a time like the present when his brother was mad at him, there was only one person he wanted in his presence.
He picked up his phone and sent Yanna a text.
I need you
It was all he needed to say because Yanna knew when he sent those three words, he really meant it. His brows furrowed together after ten minutes, and half the liquor bottle passed without an answer from Yanna. Releasing a frustrated breath, he sent another text.
Yanna Boo, you hear me? I need you… now
Kas let another five minutes with no response go by before he said to hell with the texts and started calling Yanna.
To his disdain, each of the three times he called, the phone rang to voicemail.
His desolation morphed into anger, feeling like Yanna was ignoring him.
His mind filled with thoughts of her being somewhere, doing God knows what, when his whole world was seemingly ending.
He guzzled most of what was left of the Dussè just as his phone started to ring.
Kas thought it may be Yanna, but when he looked at the caller id, it was an unsaved number he didn’t recognize.
Still, he answered it, welcoming any distraction he could get.
“Yo,” he answered.
“Um… Kas?”
“Duh. Who the hell is this?”
“It’s me, Zahra.”
“Zahra? What you want? We don’t have no studio time today.” Kas replied rudely, taking a hit of his blunt.
“Oh yea, I know. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Hadn’t seen you since that night at Club Link.”