Chapter 2 #2
“Damn, you all grown up, lil’ dude. Last time I saw you, you were still in Spider-Man underwear.” I pulled him into a hug.
“Whatever, Unc.” He brushed me off. “You see the sign, though, right? That was all me.”
I looked up at the welcome-home banner that hung in the archway. The letters were spelled out in some unique-looking 3D bubble letters.
“Yeah, I see it. It’s dope.”
“I was gonna make it bigger, but Mama said don’t be extra.”
“She was right. I love it, though, Nephew. Let me find out we got an artist in the family.”
“See, I’ve been telling you!” He turned to fuss at his mom.
I walked through the house, making my way into the dining room.
There was no crowd, no noise, just the sound of music playing low and the baby cooing.
I looked around at the same furniture I helped pick out, the same rug, and the same family photos.
I took a long breath and let it all fill my chest. Maybe staying here would be better than going to the transitional housing.
I sighed as I made a beeline for my niece.
Nyla was about seven months old. I’d seen pictures of her, but now I was here, and she was everything.
I gazed at her big, round eyes and chubby cheeks.
“Hey, niecey pooh.” I reached my arms toward hers. When she reached back with a little grunt like she already knew who I was, the hard exterior that I’d adapted to survive disappeared.
“Damn. She’s beautiful,” I said, taking her in my arms. “Why is it I don’t remember Zy ever being this small?” I asked, cradling Nyla in one arm.
Jess laughed. “That’s ’cause Zy wasn’t this small.
That boy came out looking like a two-year-old.
” We both shared a laugh, and for a second, I forgot how heavy the day had been.
I looked down at Nyla, her tiny fingers gripping the edge of my hoodie—peaceful, untouched by the world.
I couldn’t believe my sister had made something so perfect.
“She’s the beautiful proof that life keeps moving,” a deep, unfamiliar voice called out, making me look up to see who I assumed to be Ronald, my sister’s man and Nyla’s dad. I’d heard about him a lot while I was locked up. If not from Jess, from Zy.
“The Quae Lo himself,” he said with a grin, stepping up and holding out a fist. “Big fan, bro. It’s good to have you home.”
I dapped him up and took a second to size him up, but not in a threatening way. I just wanted to check his energy.
“You must be Ronald,” I said. “Appreciate you holdin’ it down for my sister while I was gone.”
“Everybody calls me Ron, and it ain’t nothin’. Jess is the love of my life. Making sure she never wants for shit, that’s innate.”
“Respect.” I nodded. Jess hadn’t told me much about him, but I knew enough. I knew he was the one responsible for getting her to slow down, take a break from trying to carry the world on her back. She called it her soft-girl era, said he made her feel safe. I respected that. My sister deserved it.
I looked back down at Nyla, who was blinking up at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the room. I didn’t have much to say, not yet anyway. I was still adjusting to being on the outside, trying to feel normal in a world that had moved on without me.
“I was tellin’ Jessica, if you ever think about gettin’ back into music, I got some connections, built a couple of clubs for the boys over at Eight24 Records. They’ve been askin’ about you.”
“Nah,” I said, cutting him off before he could finish. “I’m good on the whole music thing. Plus, I don’t need no handouts.”
Ronald raised a brow. “So that means I’ll be seein’ you at work next week?”
I looked over at him slowly. “Didn’t I just say I’m not some pity project? I’m not interested.”
“Not interested, huh? You think this is about pity?”
I didn’t say a word.
“You think I’d let just anybody on my job sites? This ain’t some charity gig where you sweep floors and pose for press shots. We build and fix up people’s homes. Serious work. I saw your qualifications, and I think you’re a good fit.”
I exhaled through my nose, trying to pretend like I was uninterested in what he was saying.
“Pride doesn’t pay bills. And it damn sure doesn’t feed your peace.”
He was right. I’d spent my entire life trying to figure out everything on my own. Maybe it was okay to accept help. I couldn’t end up in a worse position than where I had gotten myself.
“Be at the shop Monday morning, seven sharp. It’s not a record-label paycheck, but it’s clean money, steady, with benefits. Forty-five starting, if you show up. Sixty if you lead. It’s hard work. You earn every penny, no handouts. Don’t come in smellin’ like ego.”
“That’s your way of askin’ nicely?” I asked.
“That was nice.” He started walking away like the conversation was finished. And maybe it was. I stared at him. There was something about the way he carried himself. He was solid, unbothered. He wasn’t doing a bunch of flexing. I fucked with it. I could see why Jess liked him.
“Aye,” I said before he got too far. “You alright, man. Real talk. You a good fit for Jess.”
He didn’t respond, just nodded like he already knew that, like he didn’t need to prove shit to anybody. I respected it.
“You hungry? Yo’ sister had us in the kitchen all damn night, whipping up yo’ favorites,” Ron said as he headed toward the table where the food was.
“Hell yeah.” I followed behind him with Nyla still tucked in my arms. My stomach was growling. It’d been seven years since I tasted my sister’s cooking.
“So, Unc, I can take the Challenger for a spin later, right?” Zy called out from the couch, and I stopped in my tracks.
“You real bold, Nephew.”
“So that’s a yes?” he asked happily.
“That’s a maybe.”
“He’s been asking about that car all week. Don’t hype him up. He does not have a license.”
“I got a permit, though!” Zy shouted, pleading his case.
“Get you somethin’ to eat,” Jess said, trying to take Nyla from my hands. “Give me Nyla.”
I swatted her hand away. “Nope. I got her. Move.”
“Don’t come up in here spoilin’ her,” she fussed.
“Too late.” I continued over to the food.
Jess really had cooked all my favorites.
There was barbecued chicken, spaghetti, green beans, and sweet potatoes.
My mouth was already watering. I fixed my plate with one hand and balanced Nyla in the other.
Soaking in the scene, I couldn’t have asked for a better first day at home.
No cameras. No fans. No first day out single.
No industry sharks fishing for a comeback.
Just my family, the real ones who never left when the music stopped.
“Alright, so who’s losin’ to me in Spades?” Zy asked, slapping a deck of cards on the table.
“And he talks trash now, too?” I said, smirking. “What you know about Spades, Nephew?”
“I know I’m better than you at it.”
“I think I created a monster.” Ron laughed.
I shook my head, sliding into a seat with my plate. Nyla babbled on my lap and reached for my spaghetti. This was it, the start of my second chance.