Chapter 5
“Who you said that was again?”
Heavy was halfway listening to Marc, a mutual homeboy, with his eyes locked on Cyren.
She was across the room, having an animated conversation with Boobie and another girl Heavy had seen in passing.
They’d made it to Big Dre’s place, and the packed house seemed to all want her attention.
She didn’t look uncomfortable, but he knew how his people could get.
Technically, they were her people, too. But that was beside the point.
“I never said,” Heavy finally answered, glancing briefly to his left.
Marc nodded, sipping from his Styrofoam cup. “Damn. I ain’t ever seen her ‘round here before. Lil’ mama fine as a mothafucka.”
Heavy’s jaw ticked. Thirsty niggas’ eyes had been on her the second they stepped through the door.
It wasn’t lost on him how Cyren was a rarity to niggas like Marc and the rest gathered in the living room.
Her beauty, bright smile, and spellbinding giggles could make the darkest days feel like the best.
“Then, she got them legs out,” Marc continued, completely smitten, even though Heavy ignored him. “You know I love a tall woman.”
“I don’t know shit, nigga,” Heavy grumbled, annoyed that the nigga was even talking to him about her.
“A’ight. Watch this, though. Bouta go see what lil’ mama on. Hope she ain’t fucking ‘round with Boobie.”
Heavy didn’t give a fuck what Marc was yapping about.
They’d established on the ride over that they were both single.
Heavy’s confirmation was made inside Goodie’s.
He knew Cyren wasn’t going for Marc’s short ass.
But he looked on anyway, realizing the shift taking place in his mind.
He didn’t want any of the men coming in contact with Cyren and tainting her.
That could only happen if it were him. Fucked-up logic, but it was honest.
“My man, a hunnid grand,” Big Dre called out, walking his way. An empty glass and a bottle of Hennessy were in one hand, while the other held an old-fashioned glass of the cognac on rocks.
Heavy’s eyes fleeted his way. “What’s good, OG?”
“Have a drink with me, man. It’s my boy’s day.”
Big Dre was drunk. It was all in the slur of his words and the redness of his eyes. He could be inebriated in the comfort of his home, and Heavy wasn’t going to make him drink by himself.
Heavy accepted the glass, holding it out for him to pour a healthy amount of liquor. He said he wasn’t drinking, but between Marc’s weak shot he was shooting, and his feelings, he needed something to relax his nerves. The liquor went down smooth as he sipped.
“I ain’t expect this many folks to show up,” Heavy acknowledged.
Big Dre glanced around, nodding. “Shit, me either. Tell Black folks you throwing something on the grill and to bring a few drinks, and their asses are pulling up twenty deep.”
The men shared a deep laugh.
“You ain’t ever lied,” Heavy agreed. “You straight, though?”
“Man”—Big Dre sighed, exhaling whatever he was feeling—“can’t lie... I’m fucked up, but my boy wouldn’t want to see me down in this bitch. I been holding it together, though. Celebrating his life like I know he would’ve been.”
“You already know he’d be clowning you,” Heavy said, picturing Dre getting his jokes off.
What y’all in this bitch sad for? I’m the one gone, missing everything. You niggas sharing drinks without me. Got the hoes in their feelings, posting birthday collages of me and shit. Cheer up and pour up sum’!
Heavy could hear his voice so clearly; it calmed him.
“He’d be clowning yo’ ass, too. You ain’t slick, nigga. My niece came here with you, didn’t she?” Big Dre asked.
Though not related by blood, only by a marriage that ended in a divorce, Big Dre still considered Cyren one of his own.
Heavy smirked. “Yeah. It ain’t like that, though. I knew she needed to get out of the house and shit.”
“Yeah, a’ight. You ain’t foolin’ me. Your eyes ain’t left her since you got here.”
Heavy wasn’t denying his claims because they hadn’t.
They were still glued to her even as she shook her head at Marc’s lame attempts to woo her.
The fact that she had to look down at him made Heavy laugh.
Cyren caught the sound, and her eyes met his.
Smiling, she didn’t bother to excuse herself from the conversation before making her way to him.
“No drink for me?” Cyren asked, glancing at the bottle in Big Dre’s hand.
“Nah, baby girl. You ain’t about to be mixing shit on my account,” Big Dre replied, then looked at Heavy.
Cyren’s eyes followed, giving him that same look from earlier. Heavy’s eyes challenged hers, silently questioning if she’d be good if she took it there.
“Can I?”
That syrupy sweet voice asking for permission hardened his dick and softened his cold heart so quickly, Heavy just knew she’d put a spell on him.
He wanted to tell her no, knowing she’d been in the basement with Boobie and whoever, taking shots, but he didn’t.
Instead, he extended his arm and lifted his glass to her lips.
Helping her drink the amber liquid, Cyren finished off the glass.
Her heated gaze didn’t stray from his face as she licked the remnants from her lips.
“Thank you,” she softly said.
Heavy was ready to leave. Or go somewhere. She could show her appreciation in other ways if she wanted to.
“Aye. Y’all ready to sing happy birthday and cut the cake?” Big Dre asked the people in the room, feeling out of place amid their intimate interaction.
Snickering, Cyren leaned into Heavy’s space so he could hear her over the sounds of Babyface Ray playing on the surround system. Unintentionally, she pressed her body against his. Heavy’s hand instinctively maneuvered to her hip, steadying her balance.
“Why are you staring at me so hard? You gotta problem?” Cyren asked.
Her warm breath against the shell of his ear stirred the beast Heavy was trying to contain.
Cyren hardly put any space between them, leaning an inch away to stare at his handsome face.
As good as she was feeling, her liquid courage almost made her kiss his lips, but she refrained.
Her directness, as requested, was eliciting more from him.
If that’s what she wanted, Heavy was going to give it to her.
“No problem at all, sweetheart.” Unless you trying to make it one, Heavy thought as she smirked, urging him to continue. “Just keeping an eye on you. That’s all.”
“Oh, okay. Good. Did you try the chicken in there?”
Heavy shook his head. “Nah. It was fire?”
Her eyes lit up, and Heavy chuckled. “Yes! That shit was so good and fresh. Hopefully, it soaks up some of this liquor. Do I look drunk?”
Cyren was back in his ear, whispering so no one else could hear her. Back pressing her body against his, wrapping him in her addictively fragrant scent. He couldn’t get enough of it. Enough of her.
“What’s that you wearing?” Heavy found himself asking instead of answering her question.
Cyren’s brows dipped. “Huh?”
“Nothing,” he denied her access to his intrusive thoughts. “Let me see your eyes.”
Straightening her posture, Cyren grinned and tried widening her eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. All her drunkenness did was enhance her beauty and showcase her real personality. Heavy was feeling it like a mothafucka.
“Open your eyes, girl,” he said, laughing.
“I’m trying!” She yelled a bit louder than she meant to. Tossing a hand over her mouth, Cyren fell into him and laughed. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so loud.”
“And you’re drunk. Don’t reach for shit else to drink.”
Her hooded eyes hardened on him with a squint. “Fine. Whatever you say. Let’s go sing happy birthday,” she said, turning away from him.
Heavy followed. That seemed to be his agenda for the night. Eyes and mind on everything Cyren. Curious, he wondered what her last name was, when she abruptly turned back around.
Heavy looked at her intently with his eyes as she thought over her words.
Cyren had a lot on her drunken mind, but she quickly decided to keep her thoughts to herself.
Chuckling, Heavy picked up his agenda again, entering the dining room after her.
It could have comfortably held twenty people standing, with a ten-foot oak table in the center.
There were about thirty guests present, some heading upstairs from the man cave and game room in the basement.
“Man, I hope the cake is chocolate,” Boobie said, placing it on the table.
“Didn’t you pick it up?” Big Dre questioned, grabbing a lighter out of his pocket.
Boobie nodded her head full of single braids. “Yeah, but I ain’t place the order. Ms. Nia did.”
Big Dre smiled. “My baby.”
“This nigga,” Heavy lowly said, chuckling.
“What was that? Nia knows she’s still my baby. Ain’t that right, Cyren?”
Grinning, Cyren shrugged. “Mhm. Sure.”
“Aww, man. Not you hating on us, too. We gon’ get back together one day. I can feel it.”
Big Dre and Nia used to be married way back when, but both of them cheated.
Not with another person but with their professions.
Nia was a workaholic, chasing after her dreams, while Big Dre ran the streets.
Like father, like son, he didn’t want to leave them either.
And Nia wasn’t okay with putting her aspirations aside.
They were two hustlers, in two different worlds, trying to create a life that didn’t fit either of their standards.
Marriage sounded good, but all things that sound good weren’t beneficial.
Big Dre still came through for her in any way she needed, and Nia did the same, even caring for and treating Boobie like she was her child.
In the end, they did create a life that meant the world to them.
“What’s the flavor of the second cake?” one of the cousins asked as Boobie brought out the other one.
“They bought him two cakes?” Cyren asked Heavy, whose side she hadn’t left.