Chapter 8
The door swung open, and Jones stood there blinking before finally saying, “I must be losing my fuckin’ mind.”
“Huh?” I replied. “What?”
“I know this ain’t Edmund Orlando Rapp standing at my front door unsolicited,” he said.
“First of all, Edmund? Second, I was invited, so I was definitely solicited.”
This fool just stood there and stared at me.
“Nigga, move! This suit is hot!” I growled.
Jones cackled as he cleared the doorway. I’d barely stepped inside his foyer when Ford entered from the living room.
“Well, well, well…if it isn’t Barry Might!” Ford yelled.
“Why he Barry Might?” Jones asked, still laughing.
“‘Cause every time I asked this nigga if he was gon’ be here today, he said, ‘I miiiiight’ in that deep-ass voice of his,” Ford explained, doing a poor imitation of my accent.
Jones doubled over laughing.
“Keep fucking with me and I’ma kick you in that knee,” I said to Ford.
“Damn, you getting violent, too?” Ford asked.
Before I could respond, Jones’s son—Little Maleek—came running into the foyer in his miniature suit.
“Hey, Little Man,” Ford said, leaning on his cane.
Ignoring him, Little Maleek ran to me, yelling, “Uncle Wapp!”
Picking him up, I said, “Hey, man! I missed you!”
“Wow,” Ford muttered.
I smirked at him. “Don’t hate.”
She was beautiful, and she looked so happy in her purple dress—her favorite color according to Jones, who was inconsolable. This negro was so distraught that he couldn’t maintain his post next to Coach, who’d made him his best man. Instead, Jones was sitting in the front row with poor little Jules—the flower girl—consoling him. Jones’s wife, Nuri, was glaring at him from her position as matron of honor. Coach was good people, but Jones didn’t believe anyone was good enough for his mom. I could understand that, though, because his mom was a true gem, almost angelic. “Angel” was actually Coach’s nickname for her.
Me and the rest of my teammates stood with Coach as his groomsmen, and I’d be lying if I said this whole thing—the ceremony, the love that was so evidently flowing between these two people—didn’t sting like these occasions had begun doing in recent months. Shit, I was jealous…and tired. Tired of not having a family. Tired of feeling alone even when I wasn’t. This shit sucked, but at the same time, I was happy for my friend’s mom. From what both Jones and Miss Iesha had told me, she’d had a hard life due to her struggles with mental illness; she deserved this happiness. I’d once heard that everything in life balances out. Maybe, my time was near. Maybe I’d find love.
Reallove.
It had come to the point for Coach to kiss his bride, and it seemed everyone in attendance at this lavish wedding located in Jones’s backyard, including me, wore a bright smile as he obliged the officiant.