Chapter Three #3
"I was his age once." Romelo shrugged.
"So they're still at your place, right?" Panic crept into my voice.
"Yeah. They'll be at my house for as long as I say so."
I swooned, leaning back into the seat, and took a deep breath, relief washing over me.
"School is starting soon, and this isn't the route they need to take," I expressed to him. Not that it was any of his business, but Romelo always made it his business. He treated my cousins as if they were from the same bloodline.
"You got a chicken head for an auntie."
I tittered and folded my arms across my seatbelt. "That's one thing we can agree on."
"I ain't never understood how a woman can chase dick as if it's ever gotten her anywhere." He chuckled sarcastically.
"Yolanda and Trecee are one and the same. You don't think Trecee has been chasing you after all these years?"
"On what terms?"
Ruffling my curls, I glanced down and ran my hands over the wrinkles on my Pink shirt, sweeping away a few crumbs from the grilled chicken sandwich I'd made earlier.
"Hers. In her eyes, you were always the standard. She never got dolled up for herself or made decisions on her own. We could be shopping for groceries, and she'd be running down the aisles mumbling shit like, 'What would Romelo get?' Trecee had a personality before you."
Romelo guffawed—a deep, genuine laugh. "I never said she had to live up to my standards. Don't blame me for that shit."
"I'm not blaming you." I put my hands up in defense.
"I ain't never said it. I don't even live like I really got it like that. I still eat Cup of Noodles and Vienna sausages. She saw an exploitation of me and ran with it."
"That's how it be," I muttered lowly.
"You staying in Midtown?" I asked after a few minutes of silence, noticing the scenery change.
"Yeah. I been staying out here for a few years now."
The change of scenery was noticeable. This side of town looked healthier.
The streets were narrower, the cars fancier.
It gave the city a good rep. They were constructing homes in desirable neighborhoods through the Houses of Humanity foundation, making housing more accessible to individuals who couldn't afford it, enabling them to reside in less impoverished areas.
Thanks to the mayor, he'd looked out for the people. Instead of making false promises, he stood on his word.
"It's beautiful out here."
"It is."
"Did you have it built?"
"Nah, I purchased it for the low and remodeled it.
If I showed you how it looked before, you wouldn't think it was the same house.
The owner was looking for a buyer at the last minute.
What they were selling it for, they weren't getting any bidders.
I was following the owner under a ghost account, so I hit up my realtor to ask what they'd go for it.
Luck was on my side that day. I gave them half a million. My property is worth four million now."
I nodded, grinning on the inside. Romelo was quite the businessman. That wasn't a hidden gem. I'd always catch him on the phone making moves—illegal and legal—stashing his money, increasing his profit.
My third eye paid attention to details all the time. Trecee never noticed, but I did—in more ways than one.
"What is your girlfriend going to say about her cousin riding front seat with her man in a Benz?" I glowered, giving him a sly smirk as I felt the breeze through my scalp. He had the top down as we cruised through the city.
Romelo glanced over at me. The corners of his mouth turned upward into a smile, revealing the diamonds on his bottom canine teeth. He was sexy without even trying.
Donned in a simple white V-neck from Ralph Lauren, grey joggers from Nike, and black Yeezys, he never had to do too much. Women would always flock over him because he did just enough.
A simple gold chain adorned his neck, displaying the letter R.
"She doesn't know, but I can say I saw you walking to the store or something and gave you a ride," he uttered modestly.
I snickered. "Romelo always helping the needy." I rambled sarcastically as he pulled into his driveway.
"It's up to you how this shit plays out." He shrugged, putting the car in park. "I can either tell her the truth or pussyfoot around."
Now the ball was in my court.
"I don't have anything tied to her. We aren't committed," I justified the taboo situation as best as I could, trying to keep the heat off me.
"Oh yeah?" He guffawed. "Blood ties must not be that important?"
Before I could utter another word, he stepped out of the driver's seat and walked around to the passenger side. I tried to open the door ahead of him, but his crazy ass had the child-proof locks on.
What if Trecee was sitting at the window watching him treat me with these same mannerisms?
If I were her, I'd come barging outside demanding answers about what the fuck was going on. But all my life, I'd always been confrontational. Trecee liked to walk on eggshells around Romelo.
"I can open my own doors, ya know," I scoffed as I stepped out, pulling my shorts out of my ass.
"You don't open doors around me, Synthia. You're used to that rough shit, I see."
Shaking his head, he grinned and walked past me. His musky teakwood cologne slapped me across the face, carried by the breeze. I found my footing, blinked myself back to reality, and trotted after him to the black French-styled doors—similar to the ones he had at his compound.
From the looks of it, he had style and cared about appearances. That was nothing new. His grass was perfectly cut and edged up, as if he'd threatened whoever cut it. It certainly wasn't a rushed job.
Stepping aside, he opened the door, and I waited under the threshold because I didn't know my way around the place.
"Make yourself at home," he muttered.
I glanced behind me at him taking his shoes off at the door. With my gloss-covered lips, I mouthed silently, "Where is she?"
He shrugged, his brows knitted together, seemingly annoyed by the question. "I don't know, and who gives a fuck?" he stated aloud, not bothering to whisper.
Following his lead, I took my shoes off at the door and padded into the living room, then into the kitchen, my bare feet soft against the cool tile.
That's when I caught everybody's attention.
My eyes met Trecee's puzzled expression first. Then Romelo followed immediately after me, his presence filling the room.
"Synthiaaaa!" my little cousins bellowed in unison, rushing toward me with open arms.
I closed my eyes and hugged them as tight as I could, swaying them side to side. This—this right here—was what I needed. Romelo couldn't top this feeling, but he'd put his dark ways aside and given me this gift.
He didn't have to do this.
But I could see him revealing himself like layers of an onion—breaking out of the cocoon, showing me parts of himself he kept hidden from the world.
In the beginning, I hated him. Despised him.
Now I was growing to love him—the real him, not the advertised commercial image that people painted him to be.
"How'd you get here?" Trecee spoke, her tone hasty and sharp.
Our eyes met, and I focused on the attitude flaring on her face. Her perfectly arched brows were knitted together, and there was a shade of fawn highlighter etched underneath them to make them more defined.
"I was walking to the grocery store, and Romelo gave me a ride instead," I responded quickly, the lie rolling off my tongue smoothly.
"It shouldn't matter no way," Romelo grumbled, walking past me and purposefully shoving Trecee with his shoulder.
"We hungry!" Monterrius blared after releasing me from the hug. The rest of the kids followed suit—all four of them sounding off in ripples.
"You haven't fed them anything?" I asked, my voice rising with accusation.
Romelo frowned, but I matched the mug on Trecee's face before he could say anything. He bent down and picked Moriah up off the floor as if she couldn't walk. Her little arms clung around his neck, and she looked at him like he was her protector.
"I told them to fix noodles, and there's smoked sausages in there," Trecee answered dismissively.
"After the shit they've been through, why the fuck would they want to cook noodles, Trecee?" I snapped, unable to hold back my anger.
"Girl, don't be raising your damn voice in my house," Trecee snapped back, stepping toward me.
Romelo's brow rose, and his head tilted in her direction. "Yo house?"
She cut her eyes at him, holding back what she really wanted to say. Romelo chuckled—a sinister, mocking sound—humiliating her in front of everyone.
Trecee knew better than to push him.
"Say it wit' ya chest!" he challenged.
"Romelo..." Sighing, she dismissed him with an eye roll. "I need to talk to you about something."
"I'm right here."
"In private," she responded, her arms folded over her flat chest.
"Maneeee," Romelo dragged out. "Don't start no bullshit wit' me today, Trecee."
"Have you been getting my texts?"
"Naw, 'cause most of them involve you beggin' for fuckin' money. That's all you good at doin'!"
Noticing the shift in the room's atmosphere—the tension thickening like smoke—I decided to head to the kitchen to prepare lunch for the kids. They trailed behind me like little ducklings, their eyes wide and hopeful.
That felt awkward, so leaving was part of it too.
Trecee was always bluffing—saying this and that to stunt on Mimi and me about how good she had it. But this—this is how she really gets treated.
Romelo didn't have to bring me here, but I didn't fight him on it.
I missed my cousins so much, and Trecee didn't have much of a say in anything these days.