Echo #3
“No, no, no—Choo-Choo has to come. I can’t go without my Choo-Choo,” she signed frantically, her hands moving faster than usual, her breath picking up.
Her voice was gone again.
“Now, Juliet, we talked about this,” my mother said, signing calmly as she stepped closer. “Echo can’t be there all the time for you. Mommy and Daddy will take you, and you’ll be fine.”
Juliet shook her head, eyes wide, already glossing over. Her little body tensed in Zion’s arms.
Walking closer, my mother continued to sign, “Choo-Choo will be here when you get out of school—”
Before she could finish, Juliet smacked her hands down.
The entire room froze.
Silent as fuck.
Juliet’s chest rose and fell, her little face tight with emotion, eyes blazing with a mix of fear, frustration, and defiance.
Baby girl had just crossed a line.
And we all knew it.
Juliet Simone Everette was seconds away from making history—about to be the first little Black girl to get her ass whooped before the first day of kindergarten.
Before my mother could snatch her little ass up, my father’s and Zion’s court instincts kicked in. Zion hit my mother with a Jason Williams–type elbow pass, using his elbow to redirect Juliet backward right into my father’s arms.
Juliet’s face had terror written all over it.
She knew she fucked up.
“Aye, Muffin,” my father called out to my mother, catching Juliet smoothly like it was part of the play. “Let’s all calm down and remember the game plan.”
“Go away, Mommy,” Juliet signed, shrinking slightly into my father’s chest, her hands moving slower now, cautious.
“Aye, damnit—now if you don’t stop, imma let her whoop your little ass,” my father said to Ju-Ju, laughing, trying to lighten it before it went too far.
“You better do something with her,” my mother snapped, pointing her index finger directly at Juliet, her patience hanging on by a thread.
“I want to come along Ma, the meeting is set for early this afternoon.” “Besides, first days at kindergarten only happen once,” I said as I signed and winked at Juliet. When both of my girls let out a smile that seemed to allow the warm rays of the sun into the room, I knew all was well.
“Well, fine—everyone sit down and eat,” my mother instructed.
The breakfast spread stationed across from the dining table looked more like a themed catered event than a regular morning start.
Grits, steak, eggs, French toast, and plump fruits all rested in expensive serving bowls and plates.
Exotic flowers and smoke from dry ice adorned every open space, leaving not an inch of the setup uncovered.
Our family’s personal chef did this type of luxury dining for us twice daily. Whatever you ate in between was your business, but Olivia Everette made sure her family had a proper breakfast and dinner every single day.
“Mylo, say grace,” she instructed.
We all bowed our heads—but in true Everette fashion, nobody closed their eyes.
That was a rookie mistake. Someone was always plotting.
You might open your eyes and your plate would be gone, your juice halfway finished, or worse.
One time, Thing One and Thing Two managed to put a dead squirrel on the table.
Nobody was safe that day.
My mother whooped everybody’s ass.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Mylo started.
“Thank you for allowing us to wake up this morning and sit amongst each other with this delicious food on our table, we ask—”
“And thank you, Father God,” Zion cut in smoothly, not even trying to whisper, “for not letting Mommy lump Juliet’s ass up like Tommy ‘The Hitman’ Hearns did Martin on that episode. Because, respectfully, we all saw how that was about to go down.”
The table shook with suppressed laughter.
“Aye, little nigga, watch your damn mouth when talking to the Lord. Where the fuck you get your behavior from?” my father snapped, tossing a cloth napkin at Zion.
Zion caught it midair as if he expected it.
I glanced over at Juliet.
Her small hands moved slowly this time, careful, sincere.
“Sorry, Mommy,” she signed.
My mother looked at her, and her whole energy softened. She winked, placing her hand gently over Juliet’s smaller ones before signing back,
“I forgive you, baby girl.”
Then she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.
Juliet smiled—small, relieved—and leaned into her for just a second longer than usual.
That brought a smile out of me.
“...In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen,” I said, closing out the prayer before it turned into a full-blown comedy show.
The drive to Havenbrook’s prestigious elementary campus was about a 30-minute ride from our home. If there was no traffic, you could shave off about eleven minutes. Today, I wasn’t in any rush. The slower I arrived, the longer my Ju-Ju stayed my little baby and my best friend.
Juliet sat in the backseat, secured in her booster seat, gazing out the window. Her long eyelashes fluttered softly as she took everything in.
I turned the radio up as my boy Optimus’ track, “Proved It,” came on.
“Daddy had no love for me, mama had no hope for me
Came up where the dark had a tighter grip than faith on me
Turned pain into pressure, let that fire put a scope on me
Now the world gotta see it—yeah, I proved it.”
I rapped the lyrics hard, letting out an occasional “whew!” every time Optimus dropped some hot shit. Turning the volume up, the bass from my custom stereo system made my Bentley Bentayga vibrate beneath us.
At a stoplight, still bobbing my head, I glanced in the rearview mirror to check on baby girl. She was still looking out the window—but her small hand had lifted to her ear, rubbing it lightly.
That was the signal.
Discomfort.
Her hearing was starting to go.
Juliet wasn’t completely deaf—she could hear very well when her hearing was present. But heightened emotions and overlapping frequencies would cause it to disappear. It was like her brain couldn’t process everything fast enough, so it just… checked out.
It always came back.
The longest she had ever gone without hearing was a full day, and that was only because she had a cold.
Without hesitation, I reached over and turned the music off completely.
The light turned green, and I eased forward, but my eyes kept flicking back to her through the rearview mirror. Watching. Waiting.
When her shoulders finally dropped and she let out a small sigh, I felt my own chest loosen.
I mouthed, “Too much?”
She nodded, then signed, “Thank you.”
With one hand on the wheel, I signed back, “Always.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence.
My father trailed behind us in his Ferrari; my mother sat calmly in the passenger seat.
When the elementary campus came into view, its brick entrance made it look more like the X-Mansion than a building filled with crayons, markers, and snot-nosed kids.
The parking lot was empty—only the cars of teachers and staff scattered throughout.
We were late.
Intentionally late.
I needed the morning drop-off crowd cleared so my people could move properly—close proximity, clean visuals, noting every car that belonged and every one that didn’t. I had eyes on this place before Juliet ever stepped foot inside it.
Protecting her was always the priority.
And I had a team of soldiers willing to make sure her school days were safe by any means necessary.
They had orders to make shit shake if anything looked out of the ordinary—no questions asked.
And with the type of money I shelled out daily for this level of protection, I knew those orders would be carried out without hesitation.
I parked and turned in my seat to face her. My father pulled his car alongside mine, engine still running.
“Look at me,” I said.
Her eyes met mine immediately—like always. Saying everything, even when she said nothing at all.
I signed, You ready?
Her hands came up slower this time.
“What if it’s too loud… and it leaves?” she signed.
It.
Her hearing.
The doctors believed Juliet developed selective mutism as a defense mechanism. So when her hearing left, her mind played tricks on her—convincing her she couldn’t speak either.
“If it leaves, it leaves,” I said calmly. “Your teacher knows the sign for break, and Gina’s been cleared to be in the classroom with you for half the day.”
Juliet blinked, her long lashes catching the tears before they could fall.
I leaned in slightly and signed, Aye… are you the predator or the prey?
“Predator,” she signed back.
I shook my head.
Nah.
That wasn’t good enough.
“Say that shit like you mean it,” I signed, firm but steady. I got you. Forever.
She took a deep breath, her little chest rising and falling.
Then her hands snapped up—and her voice followed.
“I am the predator!”
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about, baby girl,” I said, pride hitting my chest. “Own the game!”
Reaching into the back, I unhooked Juliet’s seatbelt and stepped out of the car to grab her. My parents, moving like they were on the same timing as me, did the same.
Someone reached Juliet’s side of the car before I could.
And I immediately went for my gun.
No, Havenbrook wasn’t that type of place—but with my line of clients and Juliet’s history, I stayed on guard.
Always. Even after five years of silence, that nigga Sloane still lived rent-free in my head.
Yeah, him and his family had damn near vanished off the face of the earth, but something in me still felt like he was close.
He took half my heart when he killed Simone.
He wasn’t getting anywhere near the other half.
“Man, put that shit away before I beat your ass, nigga,” Optimus said, a devilish grin spread across his face as he dapped me up.
I exhaled, tension dropping just enough to not look crazy, sliding my hand away from my weapon.
“You hired some incompetent-ass niggas if they let me get this close, motherfucker,” he added.
“Fuck you,” I laughed, shaking my head. “What you doing here?”
Optimus opened Juliet’s door, and her whole face lit up the second she saw him.
“Goddaddy!” she said, reaching for him.
He scooped her up easily, resting her on his hip like she belonged there.