3. Cedar
Cedar
Two Weeks Later
“ P ut that splatter screen over the wings so it doesn’t pop you again,” I instructed and handed Sunday the splatter screen for the frying pan.
“You should’ve let me just fry them in the air fryer or the deep fryer.”
“They don’t have the same crisp, Sunday. It’s a whole different experience when you cook them in the cast iron skillet.”
“Is that right?”
“Damn straight.”
“Since when did you become the expert on fried foods?”
“Never said that I was the expert, but when you raised down south, and ya black mama and grandma and the auntie with them auntie arms get in the kitchen and start cooking shit up . . .” I held my left arm out in the shape of a bowl and used my right hand to make stirring motions.
“You can’t help but learn a thing or two. ”
She flashed a bright smile my way and laughed.
My heart tugged when she did that shit. We hadn’t revisited the kiss since I blew up over brunch a couple of weeks prior.
She’d come to my room later and apologized for pushing me on the subject, but I’d told her it was water under the bridge, and it had been.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t stopped how I felt about her. I just shoved that shit down. We had gone about our lives like business as usual, the same as we had done before the kiss.
“So, what’re you saying, Cedar? My mama can’t cook because she’s not black?”
Sunday was biracial. Her daddy was black, but her mama was Swedish.
“I didn’t say that shit. I’m just saying you’re the one who says your mama is vegan and always has been. The fuck she know about frying foods, especially chicken?”
“Doesn’t mean that I couldn’t learn to fry from my black daddy or his black mama,” she sassed back.
“Didja?”
“No.”
“A’ight then. Quit with that jaw-jacking and learn from the master.”
I popped her on the ass with a dishtowel. I regretted it the instant that I did it. I used to do shit like that all the time, and it didn’t bother either of us. These days, we watched each other closely, deciphering every meaning.
The doorbell rang, and I internally breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ve got the chicken. This is the last batch. Just go answer the door.”
“Bet. Make sure that you don’t burn that chicken, Sunny. Too many black folks up in here tonight.”
“Boy, shut up.”
“I ain’t playing with you.”
I ducked out of the kitchen just in time to avoid getting hit. She had thrown a plastic cup at my head.
“The hell are you kee-kee-keeing about?” Celine asked when I pulled the door open.
“Not your bigheaded ass. Better be glad Janae is standing behind you, or else ya ass wouldn’t make it in my house.”
“It’s Sunday’s place too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Get your bigheaded, cone-shaped ass in there.”
I opened the door wider, and she bucked at me. Celine was cool as hell, but we liked talking shit to each other. She was Sunday’s work bestie at the office, and Jane, our next-door neighbor, was her home bestie.
“Hey, Nae. Wassup? Where my little homie at?” I asked when I didn’t see her little mini-me, two-year-old Janaya.
“Hey, Cedar. She’s with her daddy this weekend.”
I closed the door behind her and followed her to the kitchen. No sooner than I started instructing Sunday about the proper way to drain the oil did the doorbell rang again.
“You want me to answer that?” Celine asked Sunday.
“Nah. You don’t pay no bills around here. How you gon’ be answering somebody else’s door?” I asked and pulled three beers from the refrigerator.
“Boy, shut your monkey ass up.”
I shook my head and beelined for the front door. My boys, Chaz and Shawn, were standing on the other side.
“Wassup?” I greeted them with dap and side hugs and then extended a beer to each one of them.
“Ready to put an ass whupping on somebody,” Shawn remarked and clapped his hands together.
“Nigga, ya ass ’bout to get dominated in a game of bones,” Chaz declared.
“Ain’t no bones tonight, Chaz,” I replied.
“The hell you mean?”
“It’s ladies’ night this time, remember? Last month, we chose. They didn’t choose dominoes,” I explained.
“Shit.”
“Nigga, if your ass learned how to play games besides dominoes, you wouldn’t have shit to worry about,” Shawn remarked and took his place on the couch. Chaz sat on the other end, and I took my spot in my recliner.
I immediately turned on the TV and set us up to play a video game while we waited for the girls.
They always had to have a half-hour gossip session before they settled down to play us.
The time rushed by, and our NBA 2K25 game ended in shit-talking with Chaz in his feelings because he hadn’t won a single game.
“Nigga, don’t start that shit.” Chaz sucked his teeth and shook his head.
“All I’m saying is Lebron is the best,” Shawn declared and threw his hands in the air.
“That’s some weak ass shit. How you gon’ say that?” Chaz argued.
“That nigga LeBron came straight out of high school into the league. He was bigger, stronger, and faster than MJ or Kobe. That nigga led a team to the finals at twenty-two years old. You gotta admit that he was the most versatile. He could score a rebound pass and defend. He led three different franchises to a championship—the Heat twice and the Cavs and Lakers once each. The man had twenty-plus years of superstar play, all-time leading scorer, and he went to eight straight finals. Now top that shit.”
Chaz, Charles Castle, and I grew up together, and he was like the brother I’d never had. We met in third grade and went around telling everyone we were brothers when we were little kids. During our high school years, we told the girls we were cousins. At some point in college, we outgrew that shit.
Shawn Holloway was my right-hand at JD Peale Construction Group, where I was a general contractor.
“Kobe won two championships without a top seventy-five teammate. That mamba mentality is global because of him. He never was afraid of the big moments. That nigga stepped up and showed out. He had eighty-one points in one game,” Chaz argued.
“Aye, Cedar. Tell this nigga what time it is,” Shawn remarked, pulling me into their argument.
“I’m always down for both of them, and I ain’t taking shit away.
But y’all looking all over MJ. Big homie is the man, and ain’t nobody did it like him, since him.
That nigga is the goat, and ain’t no contenders.
He has six rings, undefeated in finals, and he was the MVP five times.
He won MVP and Defensive Player of the Year in the same season.
He had two three-peats and dominated the league for a decade.
Nobody wasn’t winning anything when he was in his prime, once he got his Robin alongside him.
Then look at what he did for the culture,” I added, pointing at their feet and mine.
“Everybody wearing J’s because of that nigga, including y’all. ”
“I stand on Kobe ten toes down. Rest in peace, big guy,” Chaz stated and thumped his fist against his chest before holding it up in the air.
“Will y’all get out your feelings about a bunch of niggas you don’t even know and come get some of this ass whupping we got for you,” Janae called out.
I chuckled and stood. “Come on.”
While we were gathered in our living room, playing video games, the girls had moved from the kitchen to the third floor, where our entertainment space was. I jogged up the steps with the fellows right on our tracks.
“Oh, we chilling out here tonight?” Chaz asked as we walked through the entertainment space and headed right out onto the roof.
“Yeah, it’s a chill evening,” Sunday replied and hit the play button on her phone.
Kem flowed from the speakers she had set up, and we sat down to play games.
We played several card games, with everyone winning at least once, except for Chaz, who everyone teased.
“Let me hit that,” Janae called out and wiggled her fingers for me to pass the blunt I’d been smoking.
I handed it to her, and she took a hit as Shawn remarked, “As fine as your ass is, I couldn’t fuck with you, Janae.”
“Excuse me? Who said anything about wanting to get with you, Shawn?”
“I’m just saying. You’re a beautiful girl, sweet, fine, and funny as hell. I’d give you the moon, but that’s one thing I wouldn’t give you. I ain’t sharing my weed with nobody.”
“Stingy ass,” Celine chimed in.
Janae tried to pass the blunt to Sunday, but she frowned and shook her head.
Celine wiggled her fingers. Janae passed the blunt to her, and I reclined in my seat and chilled.
Sunday stood, closed her eyes, and danced with her arms wrapped around herself. Within minutes, Celine had pulled Chaz up. Shawn had convinced Janae to dance with him, and I watched Sunday closely.
She must have felt my eyes on her, because she opened her eyes and smiled at me. I knew what she was up to the minute she danced in my direction. I searched for a way to dissuade her, first by shaking my head, then by saying, “Girl, you know I don’t dance.”
That earned me a glare and her reminding me, “You danced your ass off at Tiff’s wedding. Come on.”
She tugged my hand and curled her fingers around mine until I gave in and stood.
Mary J. Blige’s “Family Affair” turned into Rema’s “Baby.” The Afrobeats and sensual percussions mixed with Sade’s seductive “Is It A Crime” made the melodious beat smooth and relaxing with a chill vibe, but it was also the perfect setup for what happened next.
My dick was bricked up. I stared into her eyes and licked my lips. The way she stared back told me she wanted what I did. This was why I hadn’t wanted to dance.
“Relax,” Sunday coaxed the minute she felt my muscles tighten. “We’re still friends. We used to do this shit easily before.”
I smirked and chuckled. “You’re right.”
“Don’t make things complicated that don’t have to be, Cedar.”