Chapter 19 Montana
montana
. . .
Two mornings later, my doorbell rang. I opened both doors—necessary when you wanted to appear open while someone got real with you.
The arrogant smirk that tugged at my lips fell at the sight of the wrong woman.
I mean, Adelle was fine, but she wasn’t Zuri-level fine.
She didn’t make me fall for her mind. Could she tell a joke?
Could she satiate the ache that came crawling—
“Hey, Montana.” Adelle’s gaze sucked me in, ready to pass a good time.
“Why you here?” My land had more private property signs than a prison yard. Gates on gates. “How you know where I live?”
“Genèse—”
“Bet.” I nodded, planning my cousin’s funeral. I scrubbed the back of my neck. “Look, ever since high school, we linked up fresh off a breakup.” Her breakups. Not mine. “You said you didn’t want to be tied down, remember?”
Adelle’s smile slipped. “I was seventeen, Montana.”
My momma would light me up if she heard this, not because of Adelle. She always told me just to not play with nobody’s daughter. And truth was? I’d been lying to myself for years, thinking I wasn’t the bad guy.
There were freaks. Some of ‘em acted like they ain’t never had no daddy.
There were good girls like Zuri.
Then there were women like Adelle … who never set the bar. Never said she wanted more. And I didn’t step up.
It was time to step up now. Couldn’t let Big Country keep acting a fool.
I swallowed. “I’m sorry, bébé. I care too much for Zuri.”
Her whole face dimmed, right before I eased the doors shut.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang again.
I muttered curses, dropped the remote, and proceeded to the entrance.
I flung the doors open without checking, and my expression could’ve murdered someone. Then I cleared my throat. “Momma—”
“Why you invite that sorcière over, huh?”
Damn, over here calling the woman a sorceress. I held up my hands. “I didn’t—”
“I bring Zuri and the bébé home, and we see her driving off. I coulda snatch her face. Her whole face.”
I had to juggle this like double Dutch. Jump in when safe. “Momma … I ain’t invite Adelle. She appeared.”
“Oh, she appeared? This a magic show? Poof! She appear in ya living room with red lipstick after you got snappy with Zuri? Non, non.”
I stuttered, fumbling like a rookie at bat. “I-I—”
“Hush! Ya non have nothing to say. I’m the momma. Ya think I care about whatchu say, because ya make those home runs? Oh … ‘Big Country’ bringing jezebel spirits in the house, not yah?”
I winced.
“Don’t play with me. Ya have Zuri sidelined for a sorcière.” She sighed, then stepped past me, strolling into the kitchen.
“Momma, you want a cold drink?” I rushed forward, smiling. “Swamp juice?”
She sat on the stool, leaned her elbows onto the marble ledge, and massaged the back of her neck.
“Momma, bébé, you ain’t supposed to put your elbows on the table.”
Her eyes turned to slits.
No jokes, it is.
I poured her some water anyway, placing it in front of her, and leaned against the sink across from her. “Momma.”
“Boy, don’t make me shame—I raised you better.”
Okay. Progress. She didn’t switch to Louisiana Creole in anger—proper Miss Virginia adjacent.
I said, “Don’t know nothing about Adelle swinging by. Zuri ain’t tell me her last name. Or the name of Darius’s dad. She’s evasive!”
“Pah. She need to tell you about her past? For why?”
“She’s working as a waitress, not using that 3X head.”
“3X …?” Momma sipped her water, then light and comprehension danced in her eyes. “Boy, stop it!”
“Can’t. She has too much potential for HC&PP. She’s …” I glanced toward the line of French doors, as if I could see past the rolling hill, the horse stables, and into my momma’s cottage. See … her. “She’s stubborn.”
“Consider the emotions behind it. Why she set in her ways?”
“Yeah …”
“Non, non! Zuri is smart. Sweet. The girl makes you laugh, Montana. When was the last time a woman made you laugh?”
“Madison—”
“Not family did that? Maddy’s my daughter-in-law until I die.”
“No woman ever made me laugh,” I replied, brave enough to answer. “I’m not feeling her secrets. Gotta know her last name. Have you asked Darius about his dad?”
“I’d never.”
Me either. Little Dude had no filter, but she’d trained him well. “I think his dad put hands on her. The other morning. We were … I mean, I … checked her for scars.”
“When I arrived?” Momma smirked.
“Yeah. She might’ve had scars not everyone could see.”
Momma chortled, stared at me sideways, then her attention panned across the room. “See that rolling pen.”
“Always so violent. Who rubbed off on you? Ezek—” I cut myself off with a fake cough. Damn, Zuri and her jokes. “Sorry, Momma.”
She took another sip of water. “Bébé, say his name. Ezekiel. I done forgave him a long time ago. Best you learn to forgive, Son. You never know how long you’ve got to forgive him.”
My shoulder lifted. “If he dies tomorrow—”
“Not for him! For you, Montana. Some people been abused all their lives. The fool dies, and they still hold on, keeping evil alive in their hearts. Whatchu think that does?”
“Momma. The dude reeked of prison. Then he walks up to me, says, Good game. Like he ain’t once told me to stop playing that white-boy game when I was a kid!”
“I know, B—”
“I was part of Mookie Betts’s program, tryna change that. Tryna show little Black kids they belong on that field.”
“Mon cher,” she sighed.
“I could’ve let him in my head.” I pressed a stiff finger to my dome. “Could’ve let that poison crawl until I’m out here slanging char-broiled oysters for a living. Then he says, I created greatness, now slide your old man a couple bucks.”
“Montana! Don’t you go dwelling on what he said.”
What? She acted as if I brought up old crap.
“Laughter is good for the soul. Make up with Zuri. She’s on your team. Bring Zuri with you to apologize for pushing Ezekiel. It might help soften you for his response.”
Bruh, please. “And if he don’t?”
“If Ezekiel don’t apologize, he don’t! So you do it!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I lied. First time in my life I ever lied to Momma. But dude canceled it out. The muscle in my jaw worked. I poured myself some cognac. Me apologize? Nah.
Zuri didn’t have many words for me when I started teaching Darius to ride a horse the other day. I’d not seen her again until tonight. That face made me forgive her long ago. She just needed to share more than a few words about her past.
But what did she do?
She and Darius helped Texas push together tables for Momma’s midweek dinner, then started talking.
I settled across from her, my second whiskey in hand.
“Montana!” Darius hopped from the chair at her side—a blur as he rushed around the table.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“We good?” I asked, but Darius launched himself into my arms, speaking a mile a minute. “Yeah, we gone ride, Little Dude. Maybe not tonight. You’ll wrangle Crocodile soon.”
“Wrangle a what?” Zuri snapped.
Darius hollered, “Tonight. Let’s ride Croc tonight! Are you still mad at my mommy?”
At this point, I would’ve cleared up the misunderstanding.
Hell, one of them—Darius named his new horse Crocodile, even if Alligator made more sense—but Washington strolled to the table.
He greeted Zuri, patting her shoulder. Hand a little lower than appropriate.
Not the zone, but she wasn’t on the menu.
Washington took one look at me and said, “Montana and his attitudes. Zuri, remember, my brotha’s got millions of bobbleheads in the world. All nodding in his likeness.” He claimed Darius’s seat at her side.
I glanced over my shoulder. He coming for me? Bet. I took another sip and smiled.
Texas clapped his shoulder, chuckling. Zuri looked like she wanted to laugh. Tennessee, who’d just stepped to the table, picked up a breadstick, reading the tension between me and Wash. Where it came from? I didn’t know. But I’d be damned if my big brother would bully me.
“First off. Don’t come at me sideways, Judge Baby-No—” Yep, that was the name Madison called him. Yeah, I had the same last name, but it still tickled me. “I don’t have no attitude.”
Washington put his palms up. “I’m just saying, Zuri went to bat for you. She hung me out to dry. I laughed my ass off when Momma told me.” He turned his attention to Zuri. “Did you tell Momma verbatim what you’d said?”
“Um …” Her cheeks went all peaches and cream with embarrassment, while the server heading in our direction took a detour.
I sipped my whiskey. Had a few sips left, then game over for his ass.
“If so …” Washington spoke as if they sat at a table for two. “I have a mind to introduce you to some old colleagues at Cohen & DuVall.”
“Who’s arrogant now?” I muttered into my drink. “Jealous behind wish he had a bobblehead. And some Nike shoes. Posters.” I needed to make a list of all my merch.
“What?”
“You. Arrogant, big brother. You all smiles with Zuri. Fine. Said she had my back. True. But did you ever”—I cleared my throat, and my expression channeled humble pie—“have Madison’s back, though?”
Tennessee pulled Little Dude from my lap, whispering, “Darius, let’s go make our dessert order in person.”
Darius’s high-pitched cheer went in one ear and out the other, so did Texas’s “C’mon, bruh.” And Washington’s judgy “Don’t speak on something you know nothing about.”
I sat forward, smiling. “Too late. You came to the table. Didn’t have a hello for me—”
“I said hello, Montana,” Washington snapped. “Clean your ears!”
“Cute. Jokes. Zuri’s good at them. But it’s time to get serious.” Suddenly, the smile on my face disappeared. “After losing my nephew, did you support Maddy?”
Washington slammed the side of his fist on the table. “Don’t mention my son.”
Had he said Elijah’s name since he passed? If he weren’t ready, I wouldn’t cross that line. But he’d crossed a line … making jokes with Zuri. Touching her. Calling me an arrogant bobblehead. I wasn’t …
I downed the Hennessy, crunched ice. “Why you driving a Bentley, and your ex-wife’s in a box-shaped Daewoo, huh?”