Chapter 16 #2
Princess’s smile vanished. Her eyes jumped from me to Jasmine.
“What’s she doing here?” she asked tightly.
“Don’t worry about all that,” I said, looking over her shoulder at the shop. Her clients were pressed against the glass, trying to piece together what was happening.
“I… I was gonna tell you,” she mumbled, wringing her hands.
“Nah, bitch. Tell him exactly what you told me,” Jasmine interjected, leaning out the window. “You had a big-ass smile on your face last night.”
“Chill,” I told Jasmine without taking my eyes off Princess. “Honestly, it don’t even matter. That baby’s not mine.”
Princess’s face crumpled. “How can you say that?” she screeched. “This is your baby, Cash!”
“That’s your problem, P,” I said, shaking my head. “You think you smarter than everybody. I shoot blanks, shorty. Got my shit snipped a year ago for this exact reason.”
Behind me, I heard Jasmine gasp at the same time Princess’s jaw dropped.
“I’ve always wrapped up with you. So what—you was poking holes in my condoms? That’s some grimy shit, even for you,” I spat.
“B-b-but…” she stammered, running her hands through her braids.
“But nothing. Go inside and see if your girls can help you figure out who that baby’s father is, ‘cause I’m not the pappy,” I shrugged.
“You know she was out with some nigga last night, right?” she spat, glaring at Jasmine. “She’s just using you!”
“Girl, fuck your loose pussy ass!” Jasmine yelled, hitting the button to roll the window up.
I shook my head as I rounded the car to get back in. We pulled off, leaving Princess on the curb looking stuck.
“Ain’t no baby,” I said finally, breaking the tense silence. “You feel better now?”
Jasmine snorted. “Whatever.”
“So we good, right?” I asked as I merged onto the highway, taking us out of the city.
She shifted to face me. “I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who got in your feelings and ghosted me.”
“You right,” I admitted.“My bad.”
“Your bad?” she repeated, disbelief lacing her words. “Is it going to be ‘your bad’ every time you have a temper tantrum? Because that’s what the fuck that was. What I look like chasing a grown ass man who can’t communicate?”
Clyde’s words echoed in my head as I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to clap back.
“There’s more to it than you think,” I said. I couldn’t just come out and say Marcus was the opps—not after she made it clear she didn’t want to be wrapped up in that part of my life.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I exhaled, staring at the road. “You want to get back with him?” I asked, deflecting.
Jasmine's eyes narrowed as she glanced out the window. “Where are we? This isn’t the way my apartment.”
“I need to stop past my mother’s house, and then we’re going to my place.”
“What? Why?”
“Because…” I trailed off. Shit, I wasn’t even sure I knew why I was doing this. I hadn’t brought anyone around Ma in years, and only family ever came through my spot. I just knew this felt right.
* * *
“I’ll wait in the car,” Jasmine said as I cut the engine.
“It’s too hot for all that,” I said, opening my door. “I just need to grab something—it won't take long.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead sighed and unbuckled her seat belt.
“Ma!” I called as I unlocked the front door. Inside, the house was quiet, and still, there was no sign of her anywhere.
“Your mother's house is beautiful,” Jasmine said behind me.
“Thank you,” my mother's voice floated down the hall. She came from the half-bathroom, drying her hands on a paper towel. A wide smile spread across her face as she approached.
“Cash, baby, why didn't you tell me you were coming?”
“You know I like to surprise you,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “Gotta make sure you ain’t got no little boyfriend running around here.”
Ma’s smile tightened as she pinched me hard on my side, making me flinch. I laughed and turned slightly to Jasmine.
“Ma, this is Jasmine. Jas, meet my mother, Sydney Banks.”
Jasmine smiled shyly and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Banks.”
My mother’s face lit up as she took Jasmine’s hand. “Well, aren’t you a gorgeous thing?” she said, pulling her in for a hug. “And you can call me Sydney, sweetheart. I’m a hugger, I hope you don’t mind.”
Jasmine let out a small laugh, returning the hug. “Not at all, Sydney.”
Ma stepped back, looking over Jasmine approvingly before turning to me. “And you brought company?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling slightly awkward. “Last minute decision.”
“I bet,” she replied, raising an eyebrow, and gestured for us to follow her into the kitchen.
“Can I get y’all anything? Water, juice… something stronger?” she asked, heading to the fridge.
“We’re good, Ma,” I said, leaning against the counter. “I just came to grab those papers for the building.”
“Oh, right,” she nodded. “They’re in your father’s office.”
“I’ll be back,” I said to Jasmine.
She nodded and sat at the island, her gaze wandering around the room.
Coming into Pop’s office always felt like stepping back in time.
Nothing had changed—his old books and vinyl records lined the shelves; even the decanter, still half-filled with his favorite whiskey, sat on a bar cart in the corner.
Ma claimed she used this as her workspace, but I knew she mostly kept it this way to feel close to him.
“You like her, don’t you?” Ma said out of nowhere, picking up a manila folder off the desk.
I blinked. “What?”
She sucked her teeth and lightly smacked the folder against my chest. “Boy, you heard me. When was the last time you brought a girl over here?”
I took the folder. “It’s not like that.”
She looked at me skeptically. “Uh huh. So now you out here introducing random girls to your mama now?”
I shook my head, chuckling. “No, ma’am.”
Her expression softened. “Exactly. That’s what I thought,” she patted my cheek gently. “She seems good for you.”
“You said, like, ten words to her.”
“You look at her the way your daddy looked at me,” she said simply. “A mother knows these things.”
I followed behind her as she left the room, still turning her words over in my head.
When we stepped back into the kitchen, Jasmine glanced up from her phone, her gaze flicking between us curiously.
I could see the curiosity all over her face—she knew we weren’t back there just going over paperwork.
“Aight, Ma. We out,” I said, giving her a quick hug.
Jasmine stood and smiled. “It was really nice meeting you, Sydney.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” Ma gave her another warm hug. “Hopefully, this one will bring you by for dinner sometime.”
Jasmine gave me a tentative glance. “That sounds nice.”
Ma turned to me with a stern look. “And you—don’t fuck this up, Cash.”
“Here you go,” I muttered. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jasmine was quiet when we got back in the car. I could tell she had a million questions, but she kept them to herself.
“Your mom’s sweet,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yeah, she is,” I agreed, backing out of the driveway.
My house wasn’t too far from my mother’s—maybe a twenty-minute drive. I’d moved to the suburbs a few years back for the space and privacy. Jelani’s wild ass still lived in a high-rise downtown, but I preferred the quiet.
The music on the radio filled the car, neither of us speaking as we were lost in our thoughts. Jasmine was probably trying to figure out the game I was running. And I was still working out why I was letting her see this part of my life.
When we turned down my street, it was hard not to smile at the irony of everything. My crib was set behind a row of perfectly manicured hedges and a gated entrance that gave family man vibes more than a nigga who’d been putting foot to ass lately.
“I don’t bring people to my house. Nobody comes here except family and a few close friends,” I said.
Jasmine frowned. “You took me to meet your mother… now we’re at your house. Is this supposed to make up for the way you acted?”
“Nah,” I shook my head. “This isn’t a half-ass apology. I’m just…” I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “I want to show you more of me. That’s all.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this vulnerable with a woman. The words felt raw in my throat.
“I’m not playing games with you, Jas.”
She stared at me, searching my face like she was waiting for the catch. Slowly, she turned back to look at the house again.
“Let’s go inside,” I said, getting out of the car. Jasmine followed, taking in the sprawling white house I called home.
“Your gangsta ass really lives in the suburbs like you got a whole secret family tucked away somewhere,” she teased as we walked up the front steps.
“Don’t get it twisted. I’m a businessman, shorty,” I said, winking as I punched in the code to unlock the door.
She snorted. “Yeah, alright, Mr. Businessman.”
I pushed the door open, stepping inside first. “Welcome to my crib,” I said, holding it open for her.
My place was nothing like my mom’s cozy, lived-in house.
I was all about clean lines and open space.
The walls were a warm cream color, and I’d had an interior designer hook me up with furniture that had a modern style without feeling cold.
It wasn’t your typical bachelor pad, though.
There were no oversized leather couches or sports posters.
Instead, I’d curated a growing collection of work by Black artists.
They were pieces that showed a little bit of who I was beneath the flash.
Jasmine walked in, looking around the foyer and up at the high ceilings. The bright hardwood floors gleamed under the sunlight pouring through the big windows.
“Oh, you got big money,” she said, sounding awestruck.
I chuckled, locking the door behind us. “I do alright.” I tried to sound unfazed, but a small surge of pride swelled in my chest.
She slipped off her sandals and left them by the door, and wandered further inside. She paused at a large abstract painting in the entryway.
“Didn’t take you for an art guy,” she said, glancing back at me.