Rhythm Brooks
Sincere cut the engine, reached over, and took my hand like he could feel my nerves. “You ready?”
I tried to answer, but my breath came out shaky.
I stared out the window at the house we were parked in front of in Naperville.
Everyone associated with Sincere lived in luxury, and this house was no exception.
It was brick and stone, three stories, and sitting back on a big lot with a circular driveway.
Sincere squeezed my hand. “Don’t think too much about it.”
“Isn’t it too soon for me to meet them?”
“It’s not a formal meeting. It’s my cousin’s birthday,” he reminded me. “My mom is hosting a get-together. It’s just family getting together to eat, drink, and talk shit. That’s it.”
I winced. “Still...”
“I didn’t even tell them I’m bringing my girlfriend.
They know I’m seeing someone. I’ve mentioned you more than once, but that’s it.
I didn’t tell them I was bringing you because I didn’t want to make it awkward for you.
” He squeezed my hand again. “My intentions with you are real. You’ll have to meet them at some point. ”
Reluctantly, I reached for the door handle. “C’mon.”
His mouth curved, like he was proud of me.
We climbed out and the cold hit me in the face immediately.
I tugged my coat tighter and followed Sincere up the walk.
My eyes kept drifting to the details as we got closer.
The tall windows, wide front entry, and landscaping that looked professionally maintained even in winter was beautiful and intimidating.
Sincere opened the door with a key, and warmth rushed out to meet us, along with the aroma of food, music, and voices layered over each other.
The house was already full. People turned when we stepped in and were instantly so happy to see Sincere.
“Ayyye, there he go!” somebody yelled.
“Sincere!”
“Look at this nigga coming in here looking like schmoney!”
He laughed and started hugging aunts, uncles, and cousins.
He didn’t have siblings, but he had plenty of people who loved him like they were.
And he kept pulling me into it without making it feel like I was under a spotlight.
He included me in the greeting without making it feel awkward, and I appreciated that.
“This is my cousin, Tasha,” he told me after greeting a woman who immediately gave me a welcoming smile. “This my auntie, Denise. This is Uncle Marcus.”
He introduced me to everybody, but he didn’t give me a title. He just said my name and held my hand, and that was enough for me.
People kept complimenting me as they greeted me.
“She pretty.”
“Hey, baby.”
“I love your locs.”
“You look nice.”
“Your locs are beautiful.”
“C’mon, dark-skinned beauty!”
Then he led me toward his parents. I didn’t realize my grip had tightened until he glanced down at our hands and his mouth twitched in amusement. “Relax, baby.”
I blew a heavy breath, trying to, but I felt like rich people could see the poor all over me. Though I now had more money than I ever had, I still felt like the woman who was late for her rent a few months ago because Kodi couldn’t help financially.
His mother and father stood together next to the buffet.
“Ma,” he said first, leaning in to kiss his mother’s cheek.
She turned her head slightly, accepted it, and her eyes went past him to me. The look she gave me wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t warm either. I saw Sincere notice it. Then he played it off like maybe he didn’t see what he thought he did.
“Dad.” He shook his father’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug.
His father smiled. “Good to see you, son.”
Then Sincere turned back to me. “This is Rhythm.”
I held out my hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”
His mother took my hand like it was a formality. Her grip was light. Her eyes were judgmental and barely landed on me.
“Hello,” she said, tight-lipped.
His father shook my hand next and actually looked at me. “Nice to meet you, Rhythm. Welcome.”
For the first time since I’d met this man, Sincere looked uneasy as he looked at his mother with confusion in his eyes, as his mother seemed to purposely look everywhere else but at us, specifically me.
Sincere tried to get his mother’s attention. “Remember I was telling you all Rhythm was the featured artist of Mothers of the Block. The show was last weekend...”
“I need to check on something,” his mother cut in, already turning away. “Excuse me.”
She walked off so fast that she didn’t notice Sincere blinking owlishly. He looked thrown off, even as he tried to hide it. His father gave him a sympathetic glance as Sincere cleared his throat. “We’ll catch up in a minute,” he told his father.
His father nodded as Sincere guided me back into the party.
“You want a drink?” he asked.
“Please.”
He was clearly caught off guard by his mother, so this must not have been usual behavior for her, so I didn’t bring it up. Instead, we mingled with his cousins and other family members. People joked with Sincere and told me stories about him.
His parents were clearly well off, but not everybody in this house moved like polished suburb money.
Some of his family members were still hood as hell.
That had to be part of the reason why Sincere was still so down to earth.
He knew both worlds. He could sit in a boardroom and speak numbers, then turn around and joke with his cousin who still called everybody “Folks.” It made sense how he found himself associated with the Cartiers.
As the party went on, I needed to use the bathroom.
I leaned toward Sincere. “Where’s the restroom?”
“Down the hall,” he said, pointing. “Second door on the right.”
He started to stand. “I’ll go with you.”
I laughed. “I can make it on my own.”
He leaned back on the couch, but his eyes stayed on me as I headed down the hallway.
Inside the bathroom, I used the toilet, washed my hands, then stared at myself in the mirror.
My locs were down, and I had curled them the night before with flexi rods.
I wore a fitted black turtleneck bodysuit under a long black blazer that hit mid-thigh.
My jeans were dark gray and high-waisted with a slim black belt and a silver Gucci buckle.
I had on pointed-toe heels with a clear strap, and a small black shoulder bag tucked under my arm.
I fixed a few strands near my face, checked my lip gloss, then opened the door.
Sincere’s mother was standing right outside the bathroom. She had that same cold expression she wore when she barely greeted me. For a second I assumed she needed to use the restroom, even though it was her house and she could use any bathroom she wanted.
I stepped aside, but she didn’t move. Instead, she stepped closer and gestured down the hall. “Come with me for a moment.”
I cringed, but I followed her a few steps away from the party until we could hear each other.
“I can tell my son really likes you,” she finally said.
I smiled. “That’s nice to hear.”
“He doesn’t bring many women around the family, so I’m going to be direct.”
My shoulders stiffened, but I stayed respectful. “Okay.”
“What are your intentions with him?”
“My intentions?”
“Yes. What do you want from him?”
It took everything in me to keep my expression respectful. “I care about him. We’re building something. I don’t want anything from him, but... him, I guess.”
Then she started firing questions. “Where are you from? Specifically.”
“Chicago. South East Side.”
“What does your family do? Your parents.”
“My father passed,” I said carefully. “My mother works... a job.” It was getting harder and harder for me to remain gracious.
“And you have children.”
“I do. Two.”
Her expression didn’t change, but I felt the judgment in the way she held the silence after that. “Sincere doesn’t have any children. And you expect him to step into a situation where he’s raising another man’s kids?”
I instantly got pissed, but I didn’t let my voice rise. “My children have a father. And I’m not asking anyone to raise them.”
She held my gaze. “My son has worked very hard to be where he is.”
“I can see that.”
“And he has a future.”
“So do I,” I replied, still respectful, but very much standing on my shit.
Her lips pressed together as she studied me like she was trying to decide if I was worth the air that I was breathing. I felt my patience thinning. I also felt the sting of being reduced to where I came from and what I came with, instead of who I was.
I took a slow breath. “I respect that you want to protect your son. I would do the same. But I’m not going to stand here and be interrogated like I’m trying to take something from him.”
Her eyes flashed with offense. “I’m simply asking questions.”
“And I’ve answered them,” I replied. “But I’m uncomfortable with how you’re asking them.” I adjusted my posture as she blinked rapidly with offense. But before she could say anything further, I politely told her, “Excuse me. I’m going to get back to the party.”
I stepped around her before she could stop me again, and I walked back toward the party with my face composed, even though my hands were shaking.