Chapter 9 #2
For some reason I will never fucking understand, my mom can’t see no wrong in this nigga.
Growing up, he could never keep a damn job.
She had to work overtime on her hands and knees cleaning houses while he spent most days posted up with other bum ass niggas.
He didn’t give a shit about me or Quaysha and he straight hates me because I refuse to be ain’t shit like him. I hate him but I love my mom.
She refuses to leave him. When she said her vows, she meant every word even though he didn’t.
When I bought her this new house, she refused to move in without him.
Only because I loved her and wanted her to have this house, I agreed but under one condition.
When I’m here, he can’t be. The two of us can’t occupy the same space.
So why the fuck is he here?
I don’t even pull into the driveway. Instead, I drive past the house and turn around in the cul-de-sac. Right when I’m about to turn off the street, a text appears on my screen.
Sis: ICU. Don’t leave. Momma’s gonna cry ?
Me: Text me when he leaves.
Sis: Riq! Come back. He’s outside in that stupid shed. He won’t come in. Momma made him promise. Please don’t break her heart.
My eyes practically burn a hole in my screen as I glare at the message. Quay is playing on my emotions and love for her and Momma. She knows I’ll do anything for them. That’s the only reason my fuck ass father is staying in the house at all.
Sis: Riq, please she saw u!!!!
“Fuck!” I grit as I shift into reverse and back back all the way into the driveway.
I park behind Quay’s Beetle. She’s wanted that Beetle ever since she saw that Transformers movie with Bumblebee.
After the movie, she talked about that car every damn day, so I got it for her sixteenth birthday last September.
Volkswagen discontinued them ugly little cars in 2019 but for her birthday, Paxton helped me find one for her.
My DP brother, Leem, owns a detail and body shop and he hooked me up by wrapping it in her favorite color, green, and updating the interior.
It’s fye now but I’ll never admit that to her.
Before getting out, I close my eyes, take several deep ass breaths then utter the words that have fueled me since that nigga tried to break me. “The best motivation is being underestimated.”
When I get out of my ride, the front door opens and Quay rushes out. All five feet eleven inches of her crashes into me. Just like me, she’s an athlete, a beast in soccer and basketball though. She’s a junior, playing varsity at Douglasville Prep.
While hugging me, she says, “I’m glad you came back. Momma was really ’bout to cry.”
“Why that nigga here though?”
“He was going to Uncle Rod’s but their cable is off and they do not do apps,” she says.
Rod ain’t much better than his older brother. He’s a functioning alcoholic who somehow manages to keep a job. He works at the C-Mart off 8th and has been there for over fifteen years. I don’t think his brother has had any job for fifteen fucking days. Real shit, my father is a bitch ass nigga.
The funny thing is he swears he used to be a baller and some big-time hustler back in the day but I heard from a few old schools that he was barely a corner boy.
A lie ain’t nothing for him to tell. He also played hoops, but after he was shot in the leg, his balling days were over.
Me and Quay get our height from him. He’s six-four.
I surpassed him when I was fifteen and I’ve been looking down on him since.
“I only got out because you texted. I’m not staying though.”
She shoves me in my chest then sighs. “They’re outside in the shed; they won’t come in the house.”
“They?”
“Yes. Uncle Rod is here too. He rode back with Daddy.”
“Let’s get this shit over with.”
“Where’s the cake?”
“Shit! In my ride.”
Seeing his ride in the driveway really fucked me up.
I forgot all about the cake. I step back to my Escalade, grab it, then walk with Quay into the house.
The smell of my momma’s dressing hits my nose as soon as I duck and enter.
Dressed in my jersey and a pair of jeans, my mom comes around the corner with a smile on her pretty, dark chocolate face.
When she gets close, I see that her eyes are glossy.
Fuck! She was crying; my fucking chest gets tight as hell.
“He’s not coming in,” she utters. I hand the cake to Quay and my mom walks into my arms. As the shortest in the family, she’s eye level with my chest. She wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me so tight. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too, Ma but I ca—”
“No buts,” she says while lightly tapping me.
Then she releases me and places her hands on my chest. “I cooked your favorite, smothered turkey wings, cornbread dressing with chicken, macaroni and cheese, and fried cabbage. We’re going to eat and talk about how proud we are of you.
I want to spend this evening feeding and loving on my babies. Okay?” she asks, almost begging.
Her glossy eyes plead with me and her voice is shaky, all fucking me up. I hate this shit so bad. We can’t be a normal family because my mom loves the wrong ass nigga.
“I’m staying, Ma,” I tell her, then lean in and kiss her cheek. “It smells good as hell too.”
“Carb loads, right?” she says.
“Carb loading, Ma,” Quay exclaims, correcting her.
“You can say whatever you want, Ma. Ignore Quay. She looks crazy any way with that shit on her head,” I say, then grab the big ass afro puff at the top of her head.
“Stop! I’m getting it braided tomorrow. My appointment is at ten and I need my money at nine.”
“You stay in a nigga pockets. Plus, I gave you money already,” I say, fucking with her.
“Riq! No, you didn’t. I need four hundred dollars,” she squeals and I laugh.
“Calm yo’ lil ass down. I’m gon’ send it to you.”
“Stop messing with your sister like that. She’s been talking about them expensive ass braids all week. I just don’t know why they cost so much. I used to get my hair braided for fifty dollars when I was your age.”
“Cause that was a hundred years ago,” Quay says and my mom sucks her teeth. We follow my mom to the kitchen and Quay places the cake on the table. My momma walks to the sink and washes her hands. “You want some help, Momma?”
“Yes, baby. Wash your hands and get the lemonade tea and butter out of the fridge. Riq, go clean up and sit in the dining room. We’ll set it all up,” she says.
I walk off, leaving them in the kitchen, then head down the long hall to the bathroom.
When my mom used to clean houses, her favorite was the Sinclairs' off Sapphire.
The few times I would catch rides over there after practice, she would always walk me through the house, going on and on about the high ceilings, crown molding, marble countertops, large rooms, and jacuzzi tubs.
Her favorite rooms were the kitchen and big ass dining room.
I would just follow her and listen as she fantasized about having a house like theirs.
I told myself every time that I would get her a dream house and I did.
I did even before getting to the league.
More than half of my sponsorship deals went into this four bedroom, five bath house and the furniture.
She picked out every single piece. My chest fills with pride each time I walk through here.
When I make it to the dining room, our plates are on the table along with rolls, cake slices, and a pitcher of her lemonade and tea mix that I love. Quay is already sitting and chewing, probably dressing. My moms can cook but she murders dressing. I can eat a whole pan by my damn self.
“Momma gon’ kill you,” I tell her.
After swallowing, she snaps, “I’m hungry. She wouldn’t let me eat till your big head got here.” To fuck with her, I palm her puff and hold it until I sit down. “Riq! Stop. It’s air drying for tomorrow. You gon’ mess it up,” she whines.
“I’m paying to get it fixed.”
“That’s not the point,” she scoffs. “Can you get another ticket to the game?”
“For who?”
“My friend,” is all she says, no name.
“Yo’ friend who? And it bet not be no nigga either.”
“See, you already tripping. It’s a boy who is really just my friend. It ain’t even like that.”
“It must be like that. You didn’t offer his name up freely. Who is it? Do I know him?”
“It’s Tre.”
“Tre who, Quay?” I demand. I don’t play about my sister. I know niggas and I’m not about to let no nigga play with her heart.
“You know him. His brother is DP,” she says and I glare at her. “Makai. He’s a barber at Fadez.”
“I don’t know Tre,” I lie. I definitely know Tre, Makai, and their older brother, Hawk.
Hawk is on lock with three years left on his bid.
Makai is a year younger than me. We actually came up in DP together, me, him, and Kove.
Three wild ass niggas just trying to figure our hustles out.
Me and Kove balled and he cut hair. He was hooking us up long before he got legit in the shit.
Tre’s young ass tried to follow us and shit but he couldn’t hang. He got into football and he has skills.
“You do know Tre,” she says.
“Tre?” my mom says as she walks into the dining room. “I thought he was coming for dinner.”
“You let the nigga come here, Ma?” I bark.
“Yes. He’s a nice boy, nothing like you and Kove were at that age. Take the bass out your voice. That boy is fine and he likes Quay.”
“I thought you said he was just a friend,” I huff at Quay.
“He is,” she says. Then she turns to my mom with her eyes damn near popping out of her head.
“Girl, your brother ain’t crazy. And leave that girl alone. She’s been nervous to even tell you about him and now I see why.”
“I wasn’t nervous,” Quay sighs then rolls her eyes.
“Bow your heads so we can eat. Riq, bless the food,” my mom says as she lowers her head.