Chapter 26 #2
“A text from Goode Furniture. Niya’s set will be delivered tomorrow between nine and twelve. Finally, her room will be complete,” she says excitedly.
I painted Niya’s drawing wall at the condo last week and she and my wife handled the curtains and the bathroom. My wife wants the room perfect for my baby girl and I love everything about that. The way she loves my daughter is amazing. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for Niya.
“So I’m working tomorrow?” I tease.
“Yep but you’ll be rewarded. You work and I’ll put in work later.”
“I like that.”
“I know you do. I gotta go, baby. I have a motion in limine in fifteen and I need to get ready. Have fun with your sister and don’t let Shiro scare her. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I end the call and see Alami is ten minutes out. When I lift my head, I spot Shiro walking in. “You were serious about coming,” I say, then stand.
“Yeah. She’s family,” he says with a shrug. “Where is she?”
“On the way. She’ll be here in ten.”
“I came straight from the shop and I’m hungry as hell. You still keep them snacks and shit in the breakroom?”
“Yeah. It’s stocked. I got leftovers in there too. My wife cooked steak pasta.”
“Sis can burn. Let me get that.”
“It’s the all black lunch container on the second shelf.
Knock yourself out.” We both leave my office.
He heads to the breakroom while I journey to the bathroom.
I beat him back to my office, but not even a minute later, he walks in eating.
I can see the smoke coming off the container. “Let the shit cool,” I jibe.
“Shit good. I got it. She needs to make this next Sunday dinner. Is this some kind of Cajun sauce?”
“It’s a creamy jerk sauce she made. It’s good as hell though. I have more at the house.”
Right as we sit in my two brown leather chairs, Aven comes to the door. With a big ass smile on her face, she gushes in an animated tone, “Your special guest is here. She went to the restroom, but she should be right out. She’s beautiful and your twin. I’m going to take her to the breakroom first.”
“Thanks, Aven,” I say and she walks off smiling. “You ready for this?” I ask Shiro.
“As ready as I can be. Shit, I don’t know how to talk to teenage girls. All we got are knuckleheads,” he says.
“Niya loves you; you’re good with her.”
“She’s four, nigga. With this one, I’m going to follow your lead.”
As he kills the rest of the pasta, I adjust my watch and check my phone for nothing, trying to make the time pass.
I don’t have to do it for long because Aven walks in with my sister.
Pictures barely capture her clear Bako features.
She’s beautiful, with long braids hanging to one side, big, gold hoop earrings in her ear, and gold glasses.
She looks like all of us but really favors Ace, just pretty.
There’s a wry smile on her face and her hands are filled with an energy drink, a muffin, and a bag of chips.
To try and break the awkwardness building, I stand and speak first.
“What’s up? I’m Quintus and this is Shiro,” I say and her smile morphs into a real one.
“What’s up,” Shiro says.
“Hey. I think y’all know who I am,” she says with a nervous giggle.
“Yeah. We know. Have a seat.” I point to the leather sofa then look at Aven. “Hold my calls please,” I tell her and she nods before closing my door. Alami sits on the sofa and I return to my chair. “How was your ride? I need to tip the driver.”
“Don’t,” she says with a frown. “He talked all the way here and I was trying to chill.”
Amused, I smile. “I’ll just do fifteen percent then. I gotta tip him something.”
“If you want to but I wouldn’t.” She shrugs. “And thanks for the ride and these,” she says, nodding down at her snacks.
“No problem. I really wanted to meet you,” I say.
“Me too.”
After placing her snacks and drink on the table, she opens the muffin then picks at it. “So… y’all don’t hate me?” she asks.
“Hell nah,” Shiro says at the same time I say no.
“Why would we hate you? You’re our little sister and what happened is between the adults, not you. You didn’t ask to be here,” I say and she nods then smiles. “So Tre, Ace, and Deuce aren’t here. Am I going to meet them too?”
“Yeah. I want to get us all together,” I say. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you all at once. We are a lot together.”
“A whole lot,” Shiro cosigns. “Plus, you gotta meet your nephews and niece, his daughter Niya, too. She was the only girl until you.”
“How old is she?” Alami asks.
“She’s only four but she’ll be happy to meet you.” Her cell rings an R&B song and she pulls it out, stares at the screen, then silences it. Seconds later, it starts again. “You need to get that?” I ask.
“It’s Daddy. He doesn’t know I’m here but my mom does,” she says and Shiro and I glare at each other.
Daddy? We never even learned the word. As soon as any one of us could talk, he made us call him Asali. Nothing else was acceptable or allowed.
“Asali?” Shiro asks.
“Yes. He’s staying with us now,” she says, confirming what Tre heard. Her phone rings again. “I better get it. Can I go out there?” she asks and I nod. She stands and answers before she opens the door. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Daddy,” Shiro scoffs as soon as she’s out. “This nigga is a whole daddy now.”
“Crazy work,” I admit.
Shiro stands. “I gotta get back to the shop before Tre trips. I just wanted to lay eyes on her. Let me know when you want to do something with everybody. It should be at your house,” he says and I stand.
We dap and hug right as Alami walks back in.
“Nice to meet you Thursday,” he says, then pulls her in for a big hug. “I’ll see you again.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Later, bruh,” I tell him.
“Fo’ sho,” he says then leaves.
“Why did he call me Thursday?” she asks and I don’t know why I’m surprised at her question. If she’s calling him daddy, she might not know much about her Hausa culture. The Asali I thought I knew seems very different from hers.
“You know Asali is Hausa, right?” I ask and she nods.
“In Hausa, girls born on Thursdays are often named Alami. You must have been born on a Thursday.”
“Really?” she says excitedly with a smile. Then she swipes on her phone. “I was. So cool. I did not know that but he doesn’t talk much about that anyway.”
“Are you two close?”
Shaking her head, she says, “No. He wasn’t there a lot. Now, I know why, but it’s cool. In eight and a half months, I’ll be on my own at CFU.”
“Eight and a half?”
“Yeah. I’m starting Summer B. I’m so ready to go ’cause I want this,” she says while admiring my office. “My own practice and everything.”
“Criminal law?”
“No. Family law. That’s why I’m majoring in social work. I think that’ll help. Did you go nonstop? Undergrad and straight to law school?” she asks, clearly much more comfortable. Talking about the law and law school has alleviated some of the awkwardness.
“Yes, I did and you should too. Definitely don’t stop,” I say, then think about my next words. I want to broach the subject of her tuition without overreaching or making her uncomfortable. “You don’t plan on working, do you?”
“I got work study and I was going to look for something else near campus. My financial aid and partial scholarship don’t cover everything and my momma can’t help and he won’t. He says he can’t,” she says and shrugs. Her smile drops when her shoulders do.
“I might have a solution,” I say and she perks up. “Do you have a job now?”
“No but I’ve been looking though for something on the weekends. It’s hard during the week with school, homework, and debate.”
“Because my practice is primarily criminal defense, there are no days off. My junior associates rotate the weekends to work and they could use a little help.” In reality, Aven works one weekend a month and the associates fend for themselves the other weekends.
The offices are fine but I want to help her.
“Really!” she practically squeals.
“Yes. I just need someone to answer the main phone, make copies, get their coffee. Little stuff like that, five hours each day.”
“I can do all of that,” she says confidently.
“You haven’t even asked about pay,” I tease.
“How much?”
“Let’s negotiate, future lawyer,” I say and she smiles.
After straightening her posture, she nods then says, “Fifteen dollars an hour.”
“You’re selling yourself that short? Ask for your worth,” I encourage.
“Eighteen an hour?” she says, almost as a question.
“Twenty-five,” I counter and she actually squeals.
“Are you serious? For real, for real?”
“I am. Twenty-five an hour. You can pick up more hours in the summer if you want before you leave. If you do a good job, Bako & Associates will cover the balance on your tuition for college too.” It takes her a minute to process my last words but I see the moment it registers.
Her eyes pop and her mouth drops open. When she closes it, she covers her face with her hands and screams into them.
“Is that an acceptance of my offer?” I ask and she nods fast.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she utters through her hands.
“That’s what family does,” I tell her.