Noles
I sat at Mama's dining room table with my people, but my mind wasn't really there.
It was pacin. Circlin. Clawin at the inside of my skull like it was trapped.
Mama sat at the head of the table, back straight, lips pressed tight, hands folded like she was holding herself together on pure will.
Pops leaned back in his chair, quiet, watchful, eyes sharp like he was reading everybody at once.
Juste sat across from me, elbows on the table, jaw clenched.
Jules was two seats down, restless, rubbing his hands together like they wouldn't stay still.
Pierre hovered near the counter, trying to play neutral but failing.
I felt like I was sitting in a box that kept shrinking. I told them what Ayida saw.
Nash.
The hit.
The bullets meant for Jules.
Me catching them instead.
Every word felt like it scraped my throat on the way out.
I didn't like repeating it. Didn't like saying it loud.
Saying it made it real in a way my body hadn't fully caught up to yet.
Mama was the first one to speak. "I'm so fuckin' confused," she said, eyes cutting straight to Jules.
"Why the hell would the Baptiste boy be tryna kill you?
" Her voice wasn't loud. That made it worse.
I watched Jules and Juste exchange that look. The air got thick. Heavy. The kind of heavy that presses on your chest and makes you breathe shallow.
I already knew what was up. Ayida told me everything when she finally broke down. Nia's confession. Juliana. Nash. The DNA test. All of it fit together ugly as hell, like a puzzle you wish you never finished. But it wasn't my place to tell Mama. That wasn't my secret to break open.
Jules rubbed his hand down his face, sighing like he was tired of his own life.
"Man, me and that nigga at each other on some personal shit," he said.
"I ain't know the nigga was on that." Mama leaned back in her chair slowly, arms crossing over her chest. Her eyes didn't blink.
"Well I'm waitin' on your ass to explain this personal shit," she said.
"'Cause clearly it ain't just personal. My baby was damn near killed about it. " Her words hit something in me.
I didn't say nothing, but my fingers curled under the table.
My jaw locked. I hated how close death still felt.
Hated how easy it was for them to talk around it like it wasn't my blood that soaked the pavement.
Jules swallowed. "Mann, to make a long story short," he said slowly, "the nigga want my family.
My wife. My kids. My life. The nigga wanna be me but he can't." Pops raised an eyebrow at that.
Small but I caught it. He always saw more than he let on.
He looked at Mama like he was waiting to see if she'd react. Mama didn't.
She just hummed. Low. Noncommittal. "So what y'all gon' do about this problem?
" Saint asked, voice calm, eyes shifting to Juste.
That was it. The pressure in my chest turned sharp.
"I say y'all let me go over there and wet that bitch up," I said, already reaching for my gun.
The metal felt familiar. "I'm talkin' everybody.
They mama's mama. They babies, nigga." I cocked it and set it right there on Mama's table.
The sound echoed too loud in my ears All I could see was red.
Pierre let out a laugh that didn't have no humor in it. "Y'all better take that nigga gun."
"Nigga y'all always tryna take my gun," I snapped back.
"I don't give a fuck about y'all takin' my gun.
That's one fuckin' gun out of plenty." I felt my pulse in my neck, my temples.
Pierre laughed harder. Stupid. He knew I was already past calm and kept poking anyway.
"Noles," Juste growled, standing up. His chair scraped the floor loud.
"Get that mutha fuckin' gun off my mama dining table.
" He stared at me hard, eyes dark. "Look here, You gettin' on my fuckin' nerves actin' like you ain't got no sense.
" I waved that nigga off. "Ain't nobody doin' shit until after this casino openin this weekend," Juste continued, voice steady but dangerous.
"After that, we solve this problem the same way we solve any other problem.
Until then, chill the fuck out. We got too much money invested. "
I smacked my lips, turning away. "So we just gotta sit on our hands like a bunch of bitches?" I shot back. "This that hoe shit I be talkin' about, Jus. Man, fuck that."
"Noles," he said calmly, "don't play with my fuckin' money.
" His eyes never left mine. That calm pissed me off more than yelling would've.
"Now y'all wait one goddamn minute," Mama snapped, slammin her hand on the table.
The sound cracked through the room. "Y'all can stop all that ignorant ass cussin' back and forth at my damn table.
The hell wrong with y'all?" Silence fell.
I finally picked the gun back up, slidin it into my waistband.
My hands shook just a little, and that made me even angrier.
I leaned back in my chair, starin at the ceiling. waiting felt like dyin all over again.
Every second I sat still felt like my skin didn't fit right.
like my bones wanted to crawl out my body and go do what my mind already decided.
I could feel myself changin'. Hardenin. Sharpenin.
Whatever that coma took from me, it replaced with somethin' colder.
Meaner. I was becoming a mutha fuckin' demon while I waited.
"And how come that wife of yours can see so much all of a sudden, huh?
" Mama's voice cut through the room sharp enough to make my head snap forward.
My jaw tightened instantly. My fingers flexed like I was ready to flip the table over.
"Not the time, Mama," Juste jumped in quick, voice firm, warnin.
Too late. My chest burned. Heat crawled up my neck.
I could already feel the words linin up on my tongue, ugly ones.
Disrespectful ones. The kind that turn into hands flyin and furniture breakin.
I leaned back hard in my chair instead, pullin out a cigar with a slow, deliberate motion.
If I didn't keep my hands busy, I was gon' put 'em on somebody.
I cracked open a bag, dumped the weed out on the table, started breaking it down piece by piece.
The ritual calmed me just enough not to explode.
"Baptiste is her brother," I said flat. The words landed heavy. The room shifted.
"What the hell you talkin' 'bout, Noles?
" Pops asked, sittin forward now, all the jokin gone from his face.
Mama froze mid-step like she'd been struck by lightnin.
Slowly, she turned back toward me, eyes narrowing not in anger, but recognition.
"The outside child," she said low. "The one Baptiste had.
" Her hand came up to her chest. "It's her," she finished quietly "That's why you been askin' all them damn questions," Mama added, eyes locked on me. I nodded once.
Pierre let out a sharp breath. "Damn, nigga so your brother-in-law tried to kill yo' ass.
" I scoffed, bitter as hell. "Ain't that some family reunion type shit.
" Juste rubbed his face, shakin his head slow.
Jules stared at the table like if he looked up he might snap.
Pops stayed quiet, but his jaw worked like he was grindin' something down in his mind.
"I tell y'all what," Mama said suddenly, standin up so fast her chair scraped loud against the floor.
"Y'all gon' make me have a damn stroke." She snatched her cigarette pack off the counter and headed toward the door, mutterin under her breath.
"Jesus be a fence 'cause clearly y'all niggas done lost y'all minds. " The door slammed behind her.
I finished rollin the blunt, sealin it slow, careful.
My hands didn't shake but inside Everything was vibrating.
My thoughts were loud as gunshots. My wife Caught in the middle of bloodlines and bullshit she never asked for.
I leaned back again, staring at the ceiling, smoke still unlit between my fingers.
They thought my rage was about me almost dying.
That wasn't it. What scared me, what really sat heavy in my chest, was knowing I'd burn the whole damn world down if anybody thought they could touch her.
If this shit crept even an inch closer to Ayida, there wouldn't be no talkin me down.
No meetings. No plans. No patience. I knew myself. I wouldn't hesitate.
"Call the damn sitters," Mama said, stepping back into the house, the smell of fresh cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes.
"Look like me and y'all daddy attendin' the casino openin' after all.
" Jules frowned instantly. "Ma, you sure that's a good idea?
" She cut her eyes at him. "Jules, you sure you don't wanna kiss my ass?
" Pierre snorted. I couldn't help but laugh low under my breath.
Mama turned to me, finger pointed like she was pinning me to the wall.
"That wife of yours need to come see me.
" I stiffened. "Ion know 'bout all that, Ma. "
"I don't give a damn what you know," she snapped. "You heard what I said." Then she spun back toward Jules. "You go get your wife, and y'all drop them kids off at yo' brother and Chiana's house. Tonight. I wanna know what the hell goin' on."
"Yo brother and Chiana's house," Juste muttered. "I heard that." Mama waved us off like flies. "Now get out. All of y'all. I'm sick of lookin' at y'all."