Chapter 3 THIS IS ME #2
Once he got inside, he blew the horn at Prischa before pulling away.
Sometimes being around her could put him in a mood.
He’d feel like shit because that look in Prischa’s eyes had never changed.
She loved him. Not just as her best friend.
She had that starry eyed glint like there was a torch continuously burning, and he couldn’t share that sentiment.
He loved Prischa and would die for her any day of the week.
Heavy just refused to jump into anything with her that he couldn’t fully commit to.
When it came to her and Pierre, anybody could get it if they fucked with them, but that was as far as it went for him.
He knew he fucked up that one time they gave in to temptation, but he vowed to never take it there again.
Prischa deserved better than him. Back then, Heavy wasn’t in a place to be with anybody.
In all honesty, he still didn’t think he was.
His grandparents were solid, but they came up in a different time.
His mother was batshit crazy, and his father had been married to the streets for majority of his life.
Being married, having kids, it wasn’t something that he’d planned for or even anticipated in his life.
“Did your power go out last night too?” Pierre turned and asked.
His thoughts immediately drifted to Giselle and how it felt being between her legs and within her snug, wet walls. Toying with his beard, he bobbed his head but kept his eyes on the road. He had to get this girl out of his head.
“Yeah. It did.”
“I got scared when I heard that loud bang. I went to check on Mama and see if she needed me to sleep in her bed with her,” Pierre went on.
“Oh yeah? So, you wasn’t scared?” he teased, glancing Pierre’s way.
“Nah.” Pierre turned his nose up and stared out his window. “I just wanted to make sure she was straight.”
“Whatever, homie.”
“Heavy, can I ask you something?” Pierre glanced his way.
“Anything. We potnas right?”
“Yeah. I was wondering why you and Mama are friends, but sometimes, it’s like you more than that. You come over and hang with us, you eat dinner, cut the grass, and fix stuff. Like somebody who is the man of the house does,” Pierre observed.
“So, what you want to ask, Pierre?”
“How come you won’t be my mama’s boyfriend instead of just her friend?”
Pierre was only seven, but Heavy knew he was both smart and perceptive.
He’d helped raise this boy in a lot of ways, so he felt he was responsible for teaching him right from wrong and keeping him on the right track.
There were enough fatherless black boys out here, and when Big P died, Heavy vowed to be there for Prischa.
Pierre’s father was the only other man aside from Heavy that she let into her heart.
Now, it seemed a little closed off. Shut down for business, and she wasn’t interested in reopening it for anyone, unless they came in his six-foot frame with his brownish-green hazel eyes.
“I love your mama to death. She’s my best friend, but we ain’t like that because when people get together like her and your daddy did when they made you, it’s because they’re in love with each other. There’s a difference.”
“I think she’s in love with you. I hear her on the phone, talking to auntie Henna sometimes,” Pierre muttered. “She said you don’t feel the same. Is that true? And how can you fall in love with somebody?”
“Pssh, these ain’t no light questions for this morning school ride, kid.” Heavy shook his head and gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Luckily the school was coming into view ahead.
“I’m just saying… you can make somebody fall in love with you, right?”
“That ain’t how that work.”
“Well, my mama is pretty, she can cook, and she got a good job. She takes care of me and our house. I love her and I think any man would be lucky to fall in love with her,” Pierre voiced, causing a smirk to capture Heavy’s lips.
“I can’t argue with you on none of that, Lil P. I’m just not that man. I believe one day she will find one, though, someone who will love all that shit about her too and you.”
Pierre stared out his window for the rest of the drive.
Heavy wondered what was on his mind but didn’t want to give him any kind of false hope about the future.
He wanted Prischa to be happy at the end of the day and would never keep her from that.
Leading her on was something he couldn’t bring himself to do.
There were probably men out there who would call him a fool for not fucking with her, given how she felt, but he couldn’t see himself playing with her heart like that. She was too good of a person.
Arriving outside of Southwick Elementary, Heavy got out of the truck and walked around to the sidewalk to help Pierre out.
This was their thing twice a week, and Heavy looked forward to picking him up and dropping him off.
It gave them time together, and they got to talk like they just did.
He didn’t have any other male influences in his life, so when he had the time, Heavy made sure to dedicate it to him.
He’d take him to the park to play basketball and let him come by the shop to show him how to fix cars.
Pierre already knew how to change a flat tire.
“Aight, have a good day at school, and I’ll see you at four.”
“Bye, Heavy!” Pierre waved, falling behind a few other kids who were scrambling to the entrance before they locked the doors.
Heavy waited until he was inside the building before he got into his truck.
He’d showered and everything this morning at the shop when he got the tire changed to Maisie’s whip for Giselle.
Now, he was going to stop and get some breakfast from his favorite cafe before heading back to start his workday.
He didn’t want to leave Giselle hanging or wake her up, so he told his Pops not to disturb her and hoped he listened to him.
“This muhfucka! Where the hell you been?” Viggo, his twenty-year-old cousin, threw his hands up the minute Heavy stepped into the shop with his brown paper bag and cup of coffee.
He tipped the hot drink to his lips and swigged, cutting his eyes from his cousin as his father, Toussaint, emerged from the office with a clipboard tucked under his arm.
His grandfather, Horace, wasn’t far behind.
He’d stopped wearing that jumpsuit years ago and walked around in slacks and button up shirts like the boss he was.
Although happily married for almost fifty something years, Horace and his wife, Petal, kept the spice in their relationship with constant shit talking.
On the outside looking in, one might think they didn’t even like each other, but their family knew otherwise.
“It’s Thursday. I had to take Pierre to school. The fuck wrong with you?” he sneered, strolling past the waiting area toward the office.
“Your guest left,” Toussaint declared when his son brushed past him.
Pausing in the open doorway, images of last night immediately played in his head that he had to shake off. There was no denying that a good fucking time was had. One that he wasn’t likely to forget any time soon.
“I didn’t expect her to be here.” He moved toward his desk and set his things down before stepping behind it.
“Her?” Viggo repeated, dark locs swinging as he grinned and showed off his diamond grill. “Who? What I miss?”
“Nothing,” Heavy mumbled, side eyeing his father.
“Pssh, little fine ass petite thing.” Horace motioned with his hands the curves of a woman’s body and made a face. “Remi Knox’s niece.”
“No shit?” Viggo perked up, eyes wide with interest.
“She said to tell you thank you. I gotta go look at this Buick.” Toussaint pointed over his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah. I want to hear more about this lil’ fine shit.”
“Don’t you got some work to do?” Heavy’s brow furrowed.
“That pretty girl got you tight, son!” Horace bit his fist and chuckled. “I came to get me some weed before I head over to the store. Which one of y’all got me?”
“Fuck out of here.” Heavy waved him off.
Viggo was suited up in his Sapien Automotive jumpsuit, but there wasn’t a stain on it, so he clearly hadn’t been working.
He was a slacker on any given day, so Heavy never expected much from him.
He came in when he wanted and left the same.
He didn’t trip because his grandfather had always instilled in them to look out for each other.
If Heavy called, Viggo would come; he just wasn’t reliable on a day to day.
Much like Toussaint, the streets were constantly calling him.
He slang his shit on the side and used the auto shop as a cover for all the flexing he went around doing with his cars and jewelry.
“Here, man.” Viggo pulled a sack of buds from his pocket and slipped them into the palm of Horace’s hand.
“That’s what I’m talking about. You got some cigars in your car?”
“Yo’ old ass need to be smoking joints,” Heavy told him.
“Fuck you, Heavy. Been smoking longer than you been born. I’m out.” Horace chucked the deuces on his way to the door.
“Anyway,” Viggo started once he was gone, “you know that bad bitch Sonya who runs that daycare a couple of blocks away?”
“What about her?” Heavy picked up a stack of mail and sifted through it.
“You know the block party is Saturday, and they still looking for a few sponsors for shit. I told her we would help her out. Just the moon bounce for the kids and the food. I need to take this check over to her today, though. I figured we could go half, say twenty-five hundred a piece?”
“Since when you so fucking generous?”
“Since her fine ass went and got that BBL.” Viggo licked his lips and snickered.
“Yeah. Write the check. I’ll send you the cash in a transfer,” Heavy instructed.
“Bet. You gotta show up too on Saturday because she wants to give this whole speech and thank us for our contribution and shit.”
“I’ll make an appearance, but I ain’t sticking around.” Heavy dropped into his chair and reached for his bag of breakfast.
“’Cause you a grumpy ass nigga.” Viggo shook his head.
While he was on his way out, another familiar face was strolling in.
“Crew, what’s up?” Heavy took a bite of the sausage, egg, and cheese croissant as Viggo and Crew dapped each other up.
His cousin moved along into the shop, leaving them alone.
“Nothing much,” Crew said, venturing inside. “Heard you had to work on Maisie’s car. Thought I’d stop by and see what the tab is.” Crew shoved his hands into the pocket of his gray Balenciaga hoodie.
“Don’t worry about it,” Heavy told him.
“You sure?” Crew checked with him. “I know I owe you for putting up with G all night then.” Crew chuckled.
Shaking his head, Heavy swallowed his food and leaned forward with that pretty ass face on his mind. She damn sure left an impression. Her smell, the way she tasted, how her walls felt wrapped around his dick.
“Nah. It was cool. Princess is alright with me.”
“Princess?” Crew hiked a brow.
Heavy tittered a bit and took another bite of his sandwich.
“Just some shit I was fucking with her about.”
Crew looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Rarely did Heavy seem amused by anything. He wasn’t completely void of a sense of humor; it was just dry if anything.
“Oh, okay. I mean, if you say no charge, I ain’t gon’ argue.”
“She staying at Remi’s spot?”
“For now.” Crew sighed, removing his hands from his pockets and dropping into one of the chairs across from Heavy’s desk.
“What you mean?” Heavy grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands then leaned back in his chair.
“Her father’s estate is tied up in some legal shit right now, so she’s in limbo.
All the lawyers and red tape on top of everything else is just a lot.
Remi’s younger brother, Gregory, and his wife got hit in a home invasion a few weeks ago.
Giselle was there when it happened, witnessed the whole thing, but they didn’t know she was there. ”
Damn. No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it.
“She didn’t mention that.”
“She wouldn’t.” Crew crossed one leg over the other.
“Giselle knows how to compartmentalize like nobody else. Hell, the only reason she was on the road yesterday was because she found out about a sister she never knew. I didn’t want to be there this morning when she got back.
Remi’s got her hands full with that situation.
On the outside, Giselle seems fine, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she crashes out at any given moment. ”