Knock Out Kinda Love (Hold It Down)

Chapter 1

Sincere Junior

“And last time, are you sure about this, Junior?”

Walking down the long hallway, I sighed into my cell. “Yea, ma. I’m sure. I’ll see you during the next holiday break.”

“And that means that you’re really gonna call Houston home, huh?”

“Yea.”

Sounding disappointed, my moms aka Shaia sighed into the phone.

“Okay. This house won’t be the same without you…

but I guess me and Sunny will have to adjust. Fuck.

I should’ve known that you had a trick up ya sleeve when you told me that you wanted to spend most of the summer in New York with me.

Your sneaky ass knew that you was ‘bout to lower the boom. You really ran out there with ya pops.”

Stepping into the expansive family room, I sighed. My pops’ crib was ginormous, while the crib back in Brooklyn with moms paled in comparison. “Ma, it’s really not that bad. Like you said, you want the best environment for us.”

“Yea, yea. Yo, stop running game, boy. You’re out there in Houston to play Richey Rich. That lifestyle got you in a chokehold, but it’s all good. Just know that my doors are always open.”

“I know, ma.” I nodded. “Well…uh, I guess that I’ll call you later. Pops is about to drop me off.”

“Drop you off where?” She wanted to know.

“To Jahrein and Raven’s crib.”

“Oh. The super rich mufuckas. Yea, go cozy up,” she giggled. At this point, everybody in my family knew my stepmom’s family, even my moms. Although my moms and my stepmoms, Trinity, merely tolerated each other.

I smirked. “I will. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Talk to you later.”

I ended the call, and paused, breathing everything in.

After considering it for years, I’d finally decided that I wanted to permanently live with my pops.

He’d been living in Houston since I was about eleven years old.

Initially, we thought that it was temporary, seeing as how he’d only ended up in Houston due to catching a case there, while moving dope.

Then once he was released from prison on parole, he swore up and down that he’d be back in New York, the minute he was legally allowed to.

All that moving home talk changed after he met Trinity.

It had taken a while for me to fully understand the story, but basically he’d met her, fell in love, and then found the supreme connect within Trinity’s cousin-in-law, Jahrein.

Then my pops started seeing more money than he’d ever seen in his life.

His hustle elevated, and he would come to visit us in New York pretty often.

He even eventually bought a brownstone in the city, but would still just visit.

After a while, we just all had to accept that Houston was his home…

because Trinity was never fully leaving.

Realizing that my pops was never moving back, for real, my moms was pissed.

So, for years shit was bonkers. There was a lot of arguing.

Toxic shit. I used to believe that there was some shit that I just didn’t understand, until I stumbled upon my moms on the phone gossiping.

She was going on and on about Trinity, and she refused to let my pops have a healthy relationship after he’d chosen another bitch over her and us.

What she didn’t know was that my pops had made it his mission to always stress the fact that he loved us, regardless of not being with our moms. So, I realized then that my moms’ personal feelings were interfering with our relationship with our pops.

And from that point on, I refused to be manipulated.

Naturally, I still loved my moms, but I was doing what felt right for me.

My little brother Sunny still had a deep attachment to our moms, and had allowed her to guilt-trip him into staying.

Still, I was confident that he’d soon cave and move out too, especially since I wouldn’t be there with him, anymore.

For me, being in Houston with my pops just made sense.

Despite him being a great provider, our lifestyles were still so different back in New York, and that had a lot to do with the cost of living.

I was decked out in high fashion but was still very much in the hood back in Brooklyn.

And having more than your peers created unnecessary animosity and jealousy.

I’d lost count of how many hating niggas I’d had to knock out, because they wanted to test me, swearing that I was just a rich kid.

The thing was…even with the cash my pops provided, we weren’t living a highlife.

My moms used that money to pay the bills, while working a low-level job at a bar.

My pops was keeping us in fresh gear, though.

So, we were probably considered ghetto fabulous at the most. Meanwhile, my pops was wealthy in Houston, and we’d only see the hood whenever there was a family function or we were breezing through on the freeway.

Frankly, after seeing virtually everything imaginable, I was cool with just visiting the hood.

But I was straight on living in it. So, I embraced the notion of being the Fresh Prince of Katy.

I would always love the NY and carry it wherever I’d go, but I was also ready to fully benefit from the fruits of my pops’ labor.

He had a phat crib in a gated community.

A pool out back, and a Benz in the driveway that was technically mine.

He’d bought it for me, but refused to send it to New York, because I was seventeen, and he said that I needed to prove that I was responsible, before letting me loose in the city, in a foreign whip.

Reading between the lines, I knew that he didn’t trust my moms to stay on top of things, and ensure that I wasn’t losing my mind out in the city.

In fact, he was constantly talking about how we needed him more at these pivotal times in our lives.

He feared that I’d get caught up in the streets, and felt that if he kept us closer that he could safeguard certain shit.

Keeping it funky, the streets didn’t have an allure to me.

I’d witnessed enough not to glorify the shit.

But I still understood my pops’ stance. He’d walked away from hustling virtually unscathed, and he didn’t want us trying to follow in his footsteps.

And I wasn’t. Just needed my little bro to see that Houston was the place to be too.

Outside of that, I was totally at peace with my decision.

I loved living in a fucking mansion. But…

the suburban life could get a bit boring.

That’s why I’d link with my nigga Jahrae, Jahrein and Raven’s son, and plot on finding some good ole hood fun.

We’d usually go on adventures in the hood, and our parents were always none the wiser.

So, that’s why I was getting dropped off around the corner. I was trying to go outside.

“Yo, you ready?” My pops questioned, as he sauntered into the family room.

I turned to face him, realizing that he had two hefty chains gleaming around his neck, indicating that he had plans of his own. “Yea. You and Trinity stepping out?”

“Yea. She wanna go to this new roof top spot.” He shrugged. “So, I’m ‘bout to drop you off, and then we’re taking the kids to her auntie’s. That means that you might as well sleep over at Jah’s. I’ll come scoop you up tomorrow.”

“Cool.” I nodded, knowing that I was always treated like family at Jahrein’s house.

“A’ight, here.” My pops slapped a few bills in my palm. “Don’t do no shit that I wouldn’t.”

Smiling, I shook my head. “Nah, pops. You aint got nothin’ to worry about. True story.”

***

Ready to get it poppin’, I stepped up to Jah and Raven’s double doors, and rang the doorbell, just as my pops was pulling off. With the size of the massive house, I knew that it would be a few minutes before anybody answered. So, I stood there texting Jahrae to speed up the process.

Come open up the door lame nigga.

I smirked when he replied with a fuck you finger. I was still gazing at my phone, when the doors were pulled open.

“Ewe.”

Lifting my head, I realized that Jahreiah’s annoying, ugly ass had answered the door. She was Jahrae’s sister, and always irritated the shit out of me. “Yo, don’t even start, nappy head,” I warned, as I strolled into the house.

Sassily, she rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Boy, bye. Aint nobody finna go there with your seedy headed ass. And why are you even here? It aint the summer or holidays. It’s bad enough that we’re forced to see you then.”

“Move.” I lightly shoved her, even though she wasn’t in my way. “I’m here year ‘round now, Ms. Chicken.”

“Double ewe. Why would you fuck up the city like that? Nobody likes you, musty.”

“They aint too fond of you, neither, pissy,” I rebutted.

“Yep. I smell just like the hallways in ya mammy’s house, peasant.” Her eyes roamed over me. “With ya tack head ass. You New York muthafuckas swear that y’all be putting that shit on. Meanwhile, you look like you go dumpster diving.”

“Yo—” I got out.

“Sin, my boy, you ‘bout ready to roll out?” Jahrae questioned, as he approached us in the foyer.

“Yea. You got the keys to the Porsche?” I questioned, hoping to pull up the right way.

“Nah.” He stroked his chin. “I’m taking the Escalade, cause we gotta bring other muthafuckas.”

I hooded my eyes. “Other mufuckas? Like who?”

Jahrae’s eyes traveled to Jahreiah. “Her, of course JJ, Jahlero, and Jaylah gotta come too.”

I sighed. “Ya moms and pops enforcing that?”

“You already know.”

“Nigga, we was coming regardless, so don’t act like mama and daddy got anything to do with it,” Jahreiah interjected.

“Yo, you buggin’, shorty. OD’n for real, cause nobody was talking to you.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you were talking to. I said what I said.” She sassily twisted her neck.

Scowling, I mushed her face. “Shut up.”

“You bitch-ass nigga,” she growled, while clobbering me over the head.

Knowing that Jahrae was my nigga, and wasn’t gonna intervene, I swooped her off her feet, while wrapping an arm around her neck. Never missing a beat, she continuously bopped me in the head. Her lil’ ass could throw some hands, but I ate them shits.

“Jahreiah, main, chill,” Jahrae eventually spoke up.

“Put me down, pussy,” she whispered in my ear.

“I should drop your ass, yo.” I huffed out, before placing her back on her feet.

“Pussy,” she chattered, while shoving me back.

Jahrae cleared his throat. “Are y’all done with this little ritual?”

“Ritual?” Me and Jahreiah responded in unison, while turning to look at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Y’all do this every time.”

“Yo, deadass, you buggin’. I mind my fucking business. This chicken is just always talkin’. Facts.” I pointed, before flicking her hair.

“Nigga, you wish.” She swatted me off.

“Okay.” Jahrae loudly clapped his hands. “Alright. Enough of that. Jahreiah, go tell everybody that it’s time to roll.”

“Yea, scram.” I added, shooing her off.

Rolling her eyes, she gave us the finger, as she sauntered off.

Jahrae shook his head, while looking at me.

“What?” I furrowed a brow.

“Oh, nothing.” He licked his lips. “Just know that I’m watching you and her. Y’all aint slick. I see everything.”

***

Sitting in the back of the Escalade, I couldn’t stop laughing at the siblings’ banter.

Jahrae was the oldest present…I guess. Cause his pops had a oops baby named JJ, and they were the same age, and I wasn’t exactly sure who was actually the oldest. Either way, neither of them were the oldest overall.

They had a older sister and brother who were both over eighteen.

So, everybody eighteen and under was in the truck, minus the youngest two who stayed at home.

Outside of Jahrae and JJ, everybody was a year apart, so they kinda moved as a unit when it came to outings.

They were literally 18, 17, 16, and 15. Jahreiah’s ugly ass was seventeen like me, while Jahlero and Jaylah were sixteen and fifteen.

Which meant that they were all in high school, and pulled up to most parties together.

And them mufuckas argued the whole time, every time.

“Man, I’d love to know how you thought that your big head ass was supposed to sit in the front,” JJ fussed at Jaylah, as she was in the passenger’s seat, riding shotgun, while Jahrae drove.

“Cause,” Jaylah scoffed. “The front seat controls the music, and nobody was about to ride and listen to the Migos the whole fucking way.”

Sitting behind his sister, JJ waved her off. “Pshh.”

Sitting on the third row…next to lil’ ugly, I had nothing to say. But I was laughing my ass off as they talked shit.

“Look, fuck all that,” Jahreiah spoke up, before sniffing the air. “Ya’ll don’t smell that?”

“Smell what?” Everybody questioned simultaneously.

Leaning over, she sniffed me. “Ewe, it’s you.”

I laughed, knowing that I smelt like money. My pops had copped me nothing but top-notch cologne.

“You’re musty as fuck.” She pinched her nose, frontin’ like she was waving funk out of her face.

Leaning over, I spoke in her ear. “You fucking wish, you fucking chicken.”