CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN #2
“That’s even worse. He’s a fucking creep.
Stay out his way.” Zambia turned and headed toward the kitchen.
“Come on.” Jackie followed her. The kitchen was enormous.
Even at this hour it looked like something out of Architecture Digest. Soft pendant lights glowing above a massive marble island, copper pots hanging above a commercial-grade stove, fresh flowers arranged throughout the room.
The space felt warmer than the rest of the house, less like a museum and more like somebody actually lived there.
Zambia crossed the kitchen, turned the fire off under the kettle, and reached for an additional mug.
For a few moments neither woman spoke. The only sound was water pouring and a spoon against ceramic.
Eventually Zambia slid one of the mugs across the island.
“Drink.” The aroma hit Jackie first—lavender chai with a hint of mint.
She wrapped her hands around the mug, and the steam coupled with the warmth of the ceramic felt good.
“Thank you.” Zambia nodded and leaned back against the counter.
For a while they sat in silence. It wasn’t awkward, just heavy, in a way that neither woman knew how to put in words.
Jackie didn’t have the energy to pretend like everything was normal.
Zambia seemed to sense that so the quiet that sat between them now felt refreshing.
Finally, Jackie spoke. “About that night at the condo—” Zambia immediately held up a hand. “No.” Jackie stopped.
“That wasn’t on you,” Zambia said, her tone matter-of-fact.
“That was him. He knew better. Besides, I don’t even wanna think about that shit.”
Jackie looked down at her tea. “Still.”
“Still nothing.” Zambia shrugged. “It’s piss. No tea to sip here.”
The answer was so Zambia that Jackie almost laughed. The silence returned again.
Then Zambia stared down into her mug. “I saw the footage from the schoolyard.” Jackie’s grip tightened immediately. For the first time ever, Jackie watched as Zambia’s composure cracked, just a little. “I wasn’t there,” she said quietly. “I had an appointment.”
Jackie looked up. Zambia swallowed.
“The person who was there, will never work again. Anywhere.”
The words came out cold.
“I keep thinking about what could’ve happened. If... like… you know.”
“I do,” Jackie said quietly. The silence stretched between them.
“As a mother, I can’t imagine it.”
Without thinking, Zambia’s hand drifted to her stomach.
The movement was subtle and instinctive. But Jackie clocked it.
And suddenly the tears made sense. This bitch is pregnant.
The realization hit so hard Jackie almost missed the tears gathering in Zambia’s eyes.
Jackie immediately reached across the table and placed her hand over Zambia’s.
For a moment Zambia didn’t pull away. She just sat there, breathing, trying to get herself together.
Then movement caught her attention. Both women looked up.
Syxe stood in the doorway holding a sleeping Sevynne against her shoulder.
The second Zambia saw her, she pulled her hand back fast, like she’d just remembered herself.
She stood so abruptly the chair scraped against the floor.
The tears vanished right alongside the vulnerability.
And before Jackie realized it, Zambia’s mask had quietly slid back into place.
Syxe walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the island.
Zambia was halfway to the door when she stopped, took a few steps back, then cleared her throat.
“If I still have a husband after all this,” she said dryly, though Jackie could hear the truth underneath it, “and if you’re not booked…
I’d like for you and whoever helps you to plan the Walima.
” She shrugged. “I liked what you did for Syxe last year.” Jackie said nothing.
“You can name your price. Money isn’t an object, as you know. I realize it’s last minute and—”
“I’ll do it.” The answer came out before Jackie even thought about it.
Neither woman spoke. They simply looked at each other.
Not as friends. Maybe never friends. But something had shifted, something neither of them seemed interested in naming.
Finally, Zambia broke eye contact. “Good. I’ll be in touch.
” Then she disappeared through the doorway.
The silence lasted all of three seconds.
“Where am I right now?” Syxe looked toward the hallway, then back at Jackie.
“Has hell frozen over? Or were y’all just being civil?
” Jackie lifted her mug and took a sip. “Look, us mommas gotta stick together.” Syxe blinked, clearly missing something, but Jackie didn’t elaborate.
Instead, she reached for Sevynne while Syxe stood and moved toward the kettle.
“I left the kids upstairs with one of the sistas,” Syxe whispered as she filled a mug.
“But all they asses knocked out.” “Good.” Syxe glanced over her shoulder.
“How you holding up?” Jackie shrugged. “Were you able to get any sleep?” Jackie shook her head.
“I figured.” Syxe poured hot water into her mug.
“I checked Monty’s location.” Jackie looked up.
“And?” A humorless laugh escaped her. “He turned it off.”
“Of course he did.” Syxe carried her mug back to the island and sat down.
The kitchen fell silent. Jackie stared into her tea while Syxe wrapped both hands around her mug and looked toward the dark window above the sink.
Neither woman said anything. There wasn’t much left to say.
The men were gone, and whatever was happening was already set in motion.
All they could do now was wait. The only sound in the kitchen was the soft rhythm of Sevynne’s snores as he slept peacefully against Jackie’s shoulder.
Hours passed. Then more. At some point the tea went cold.
But it didn’t seem to matter. The house remained eerily quiet.
Every now and then Jackie stood and paced the kitchen before sitting back down again.
She caught glimpses of security through the windows as they moved around the property.
The same patrols. The same waiting. Eventually headlights flashed across the kitchen windows.
Both women froze. Another set followed. Then another.
The low rumble of engines rolled across the property.
Jackie’s heart lodged itself in her throat.
They were back. A second later one of the guards burst through the door. “We need a medic!”
The shout echoed through the house. “Somebody bring a stretcher!” Jackie shot to her feet, pulse exploding.
Across from her, Syxe was already making her way to the front door as Jackie followed close behind.
By the time they reached the foyer, people were coming from every direction.
Doors flew open. Lights flipped on. Security moved with purpose through the house.
The word “stretcher” had spread fast. Jackie’s eyes immediately found Najee standing near the front entrance.
The second he saw her, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Neither of them spoke.
He simply held her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders while the other settled across her back, grounding her.
Jackie closed her eyes briefly and let herself lean into him.
It was the first time all night, she stopped pacing, thinking, and trying to hold herself together.
The front door opened. Montana stepped in first, blood covering the front of his clothes and hands, but he was walking on his own.
Syxe met him halfway, Sevynne still balanced on her hip.
Koi came in right behind him, looking just as rough.
Then the energy in the room shifted. Several men rushed through the doorway carrying another brother between them.
He wasn’t walking. The foyer erupted into motion.
Voices rose. Orders were shouted. Brother Amin moved quickly, clearing a path as the medic team rushed the injured man toward the medical wing.
Jackie barely noticed any of it. Her eyes stayed glued to the door.
Cash stepped inside next, blood covering his clothes and face.
Najee was already moving before anyone else, reaching him first and checking for injuries.
Sister Malika and Zambia rushed forward as well.
“It’s not mine,” Cash said, voice low. Nobody looked convinced. But Jackie wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was looking past him. Searching. Waiting. Praying. Then she heard it.
“Ma.” The word cut through all the noise. Jackie turned. And there he was. MJ. Alive
The breath left her lungs. For a second she couldn’t move.
She could barely even think, and before she knew it—she was running.
MJ barely had time to brace himself before Jackie crashed into him.
The cry that left her barely sounded human.
Her arms wrapped around him so tightly it almost hurt.
MJ held her just as tight, one hand cradling the back of her head.
“Ma—” Jackie buried her face in his chest and broke.
Everything she’d been holding in for months poured out of her at once.
Months of fear, guilt, anger, and relief all came crashing down.
The foyer fell silent. Nobody looked away, they just watched.
Eventually Jackie pulled back just enough to look at him.
Her hands moved frantically over his face, his shoulders, his arms, checking to make sure he was real.
Tears streamed down her face. “Ma, I’m okay,” MJ said softly.
Her hands kept moving. “Mommy.” MJ gently caught her wrists, then placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her closer.
His own eyes glistened. “I’m okay.” Jackie shook her head, still crying, still searching.
MJ smiled through his own tears. “We okay.” Then his expression hardened, just slightly. “He gone.”
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