Chapter 16 #2
“Aight, we about to go over a cabin survival rundown. We goin’ over food, heat, and bathroom rules. I’m not trying to die in this log-ass trap house with y’all because somebody flushed while the pipes were frozen.”
Isis suddenly shrieked loud enough to shake the damn cabin.
“I can’t miss work! I never miss work! That’s how I supply my lavender oil subscription, my eyelash refills, and my soft-life skincare regimen!
Bryce, what am I gonna do?! I can’t get fired!
” she panicked… then that fool dramatically fake-passed out, falling sideways into a throw pillow like she needed smelling salts and a reality check.
I rubbed my temple. “Isis, if you’ve never missed work in the four years you’ve been working there, yo’ ass got more vacation time than Jesus took after resurrection. Call in and use them. They’ll understand.”
She popped one eye open. “Oh… yeah. I do got hella PTO.”
“Good. Make sure you call in for the rest of the week. There’s a chance we could be here that long.”
Adrian shot up like somebody yelled, “food stamps got canceled”, then immediately winced and dropped back down, grabbing his knee.
“Look!” he said, still hunched in pain. “I can’t be here another whole week, man… that’s Christmas! I got three kids I gotta see, three crazy baby mamas who don’t like each other, and my plug gon’ be lookin’ for me!”
The room went silent.
Fuck the kids and baby mama confession… this nigga said his plug.
Adrian was a wanna-be jokester, so at first I wasn’t sure if he was playin’, but his expression was dead serious… like, stone-cold, swear-on-everything serious.
Chesteria walked over slowly and stood right in front of him with her arms folded tightly and her eyebrow cocked like it had its own attitude.
“Nigga, did I just hear you correctly?” she asked, slow and surgical, like she was about to lay hands… or a curse. “You’re a drug dealer?! Like, really, Adrian? A damn dope boy?! With three kids?!”
“It’s technically two baby mamas, but the third girl act like one. And I might have four kids. But two don’t got my last name, so it’s still kinda like…”
“Adrian, this is not the time for you to be remixing the math on your illegitimate family tree!” Chesteria yelled, cutting him off.
“But yeah… you damn sure forgot to mention that between your fake-ass tool belt, your obsession with peppermint foot lotion, that knockoff cologne that smells like ambition and ammonia, and those holy socks—excuse me, those Hallelujah 11s—you’re out here wearing that look like they been blessed by struggle!
Answer this: You sell dime bags in gift wrap or something?
And are you pushing weight or pushing lies?
You up here worried about somebody picking up yo’ lil’ ziplocks like you Pablo in the suburbs and stressed over some half-melted edibles and a few dime bags like yo’ boss gon’ send a hit squad for a forty-dollar loss.
Nigga, you don’t move weight; you move inconvenience. Boy, I done heard it all!”
That was the quietest Isis had been since we’d arrived… unless she was asleep. Hell, I was speechless too.
Adrian raised his hand like he was testifying in church.
“Man… times is hard!” Adrian snapped. “Everybody can’t be professors or pilots!
Some of us out here trying to hustle just to keep Wi-Fi and noodles in the crib, you feel me?
I ain’t ashamed! Rent due! Life due! Child support due!
And EBT don’t refill ‘til the 8th! I’m hanging on by a thread and some hope! ”
Chesteria didn’t laugh; she just looked at him with sharp eyes and a steady voice.
“Adrian, nobody in here is laughing at yo’ hustle.
We all gotta do what we gotta do to survive.
And nobody in this cabin is better than the next person just because their bank account may be more loaded.
Money don’t make nobody superior. It’s just the lying for me!
” Her tone hardened. “You out here running the streets with expired priorities, three kids you halfway account for, a side hustle you probably exaggerating, and a limp that says you ain’t built for no type of manly work!
” She pointed directly at his knee. “Even your body is tired of the lies. When your own knees start snitching, it’s time to sit down and reevaluate. ”
Adrian looked like he wanted to say something smart but couldn’t find the words.
“Damn.” I chuckled darkly, shaking my head. “So you brought a whole Lil Break-A-Brick to our shit?”
“Bryce, I didn’t know!” Chesteria shot back, her tone almost matching mine.
I gave her a look, and she gave me one right back.
We both were Aries—rams, natural-born fire starters—so we stayed butting heads.
That shit usually played out in both our favor, because we’d end up having crazy-ass sex afterward, making up on whatever flat surface was nearby.
But now? That wasn’t even on the table. Truth be told, I couldn’t even be mad at her.
That nigga clearly wasn’t keeping it real about shit.
Hell, at that point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he said he managed properties, but come to find out, he just jiggled doorknobs for the landlord when people are late on their rent.
So all that anger? It shifted to him… instantly.
I faced Adrian. “Listen, if you on some fuck shit, you need to say it… now. 'Cause if you brought Chesteria up here as a setup to rob her, hurt her, or bring heat to our cabin in any way…” I took one more step forward, leaned in slightly, mug steady. “Just know that you… or any muthafucka bold enough to walk through that door will not leave here breathing. And I ain’t talkin’ tough; I’m talkin’ facts,” I warned.
Adrian pulled himself to the edge of the couch, posture all messed up, eyes darting like he was reevaluating life.
“Look… I might’ve lied about a lotta shit,” he admitted.
“But I would never hurt Chesteria. I swear to God. Everything I said about the kids and the baby mamas was true. Me selling drugs? Also facts. If I don’t get home by Wednesday, whenever I do, I’ma either gon’ be dead soon as I touch down, broke, or forced to spend the holiday locked in a house with no loud, no money, three kids, and at least one baby mama trippin’.
Y’all don’t know pain ‘til your kids eat the last Honey Bun and yo’ boss call you while they screaming. ”
I tilted my head. “So you’re not a threat. You’re just a dysfunctional, barely-walkin’ corner boy with too much sperm and not enough sense.”
Chesteria exhaled and hit him with the final blow.
“That sounds like a personal problem wrapped in probation. Don’t bring your lifetime movie energy to my cabin, Adrian.”
“Aight, listen,” I said, patience thinning to a razor’s edge.
“I don’t give a damn what chaos you got going on outside this cabin, but in here you play it straight.
No slick moves. No side deals. No surprise visitors.
If anybody pulls up, or if I catch even a whisper of a setup, it’s lights out for you and whoever stupid enough to be attached to it…
and I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout lights out because of a storm either.”
I held his stare.
“Don’t fuck with me,” I continued calmly.
“I got guns stashed in this cabin like an Easter egg hunt nobody wins. There’s a shotgun behind some coats hanging in the hall closet, a .
45 tucked away behind the spice rack, and a Glock sitting real comfortable in the cereal box next to the Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
Hell, I even keep a switchblade under the bathroom sink, just in case somebody tries to kill me mid-piss.
Those are just the spots I’m willing to mention.
You think I'm lying… feel free to check. But don’t let curiosity turn into courage.
And this ain’t paranoia; this is preparation, nigga. ”
Adrian raised both hands like I was already holding a weapon, his eyes wide with a mix of realization and fear.
“Man, I just came up here to chill, not to die!” He looked around, panicked. “You talkin’ ‘bout guns and robberies like we in the damn cabin owned by John Wick! I brought some clothes, some snacks, and weed… that’s almost gone!`1 c That’s it! I ain’t on none of that other shit you talkin’ ‘bout.”
Adrian leaned back, humbled. Chesteria gave a satisfied shoulder roll. And me? I was two seconds from praying over that damn coffee just to stay calm. Then…
“Soooo…” Isis piped up, real timid. “Did anybody pack any board games or something? Uno? Jenga? Monopoly? Anything?” she asked, looking around, hopeful.
I looked over my mug and blinked slowly.
“Yeah… Russian Roulette… if y’all keep actin’ up.”
Isis’s eyes grew in size. “Okay… so that’s a no to Jenga?”
Chesteria didn’t even turn around. “Girl, you barely stacked your priorities right. What the hell makes you think you’re qualified to stack wooden blocks?”
I chuckled, then got serious. “Look, we got more important shit to discuss than whether Adrian's plug gon' send a Christmas card or Isis’s skincare routine melting in the dark.” I gestured between the two of them. “Since clearly the two of you don’t understand how power works during a blizzard, let me break this down real simple.”
Adrian blinked. “If you talkin’ ‘bout the generator, you just push a button—”
Chesteria whipped her head toward him so fast he flinched.
“Adrian, you’re one shipment away from being voted off the mountain. I swear on every individual snowflake falling outside, if you open your mouth one more time, I'm shoveling you off the porch myself… barefoot!”
He leaned back, wounded. “Damn. Like that?”
Chesteria gave him a dismissive flick of her hand, like she was swatting away bad energy. “Go on, Bryce.”
I smirked. “As I was saying, we got two generators. Count ’em—two. That means we do not have the luxury of playing with power like this is a damn hotel. Nobody better be trying to run flat irons, ring lights, Xboxes, or whatever spiritual ass nonsense Isis got in her bag.”