Chapter 7
"Sit, let me feed you."
Asao smiled at his mother as she moved to the kitchen and began filling a plate.
Her entire place smelled like well-seasoned food, reminding him of his childhood and causing his stomach to grumble.
His mother had been born and raised in the south in a small town where family was important and Sunday dinner was not a choice.
Kendra’s parents passed their values down to their two daughters but both women were disowned because of their life choices.
His Aunt Kelly had fallen in love with freedom which meant doing everything but what her parents expected.
And his mother had fallen in love with a man she shouldn't have.
Leedren Delane was a proud Black man who loved beautiful women which meant he carried a reputation.
Only one, however, had stolen his heart.
When Leedren met Kendra, he refused to let her slip from his fingers. She shared the sentiment, so while she granted her parents the concession of going to college and keeping her promise that she would get a degree, it was with a baby and a husband her parents refused to accept.
Regardless, Leedren loved her wholly and completely, even now while serving time for a murder that occurred while protecting Kendra.
Leedren Delane was a man who took care of those he loved, even at the cost of his freedom.
Asao respected his father for the choices he’d made but he wished things were different.
Leedren had no regrets about the life he’d taken because it meant his wife was alive and well and able to raise their son in his absence.
He would forever stand on his decision, same as he would forever love the woman who’d stolen his heart.
Only now he had to love her from a concrete cell.
He refused to let her see him in prison, so their only communication was the weekly letters he sent, while accepting none in return.
When he was old enough, Asao stepped up in his father’s place to make sure Kendra was taken care of. Leedren was twenty-three years into a twenty-five year sentence for killing a man who would have killed Asao's mother.
"Eat." Kendra placed a plate in front of him, then patted his cheek before she took a seat across from him.
After the first few bites, Asao groaned in satisfaction.
There was nothing like his mother's roast and vegetables.
She made cornbread from scratch, sweet tea, and if he had to guess, there was a pound cake on the counter as well.
He would eat this shit everyday if he could.
She would feed him every day if it was up to her but life wouldn't allow him to stop what he was doing just to sit at his mother's table.
He did his best to get by here as much as he could though.
"I talked to Pop a few days ago," he said through a mouthful.
His father called him occasionally, and although he refused to see Asao's mother, Asao kept his father informed of her well-being.
She knew but never spoke on his reasoning, even if she understood.
They had an argument about it once, he won and she had never been to a single visitation nor received one call.
"He's proud of you."
"Yeah I know. I sent him a few things and he called to say thank you."
"You’re a good son."
He nodded, shoveling food into his mouth. "How you doing?"
"I’m lonely and old.”
He grinned, glancing at her beautiful face.
At fifty-two Kendra wasn't old nor did she look her age. His mother was beautiful. Deep, rich, dark skin, long, jet black hair she always kept tucked away in a bun, and soft, dark eyes. His pop told him that Kendra’s eyes were what brought him to his knees.
They made him feel seen, something he’d never experienced before.
Asao hadn’t known what the fuck that meant until last night.
Samari. She had that type of eyes but hers held pain.
His mother was always happy. Even when her parents told her if she married his father she was never going to be welcome home again, she took that shit on the chin.
She loved him that much, not once did she ever express regrets.
She lived for and loved the man who made her whole.
She had told Asao once that her parents lived for rules, tradition, and culture.
Kendra lived for heart and happiness. She wasn't ashamed of the choices she’d made.
She stayed true to who she was and raised him to embrace both sides of his existence but also made sure he understood that he had to live for himself.
"You're not old. You look good, Ma. Barely older than me."
She scoffed. "I'm old. You used to keep me young. You don't anymore. I never see you, Asao."
He grinned again. "You see me all the time. Just not as much as you used to because I'm grown."
"You’re grown?” She arched a brow. “Then have some babies who will keep me young." She narrowed her eyes on him and he almost choked on his food. This was the first time she’d ever outright demanded grandkids.
"Where the hell did that come from?"
She lifted her finger. "You. You just said you’re grown; so get a wife and give me some grandkids."
"I'm not that damn old. I have time."
She scoffed again, then lifted from the chair. He watched her enter the kitchen and start cleaning the already pristine space. That meant she was done talking. She’d said what she said and now it was up to him to make that shit happen. She would have to be disappointed with this one.
He wasn't trying to have a wife or kids anytime soon.
This was the sum total of their visit. His mother didn't need to talk and catch up on his life.
She didn't really understand his world for the most part.
She only needed to sit him at her table, feed him, then she was at peace.
After he finished his food, he stretched out on the sofa and turned on the TV.
He mindlessly flipped through channels and drifted off to sleep.
She woke him a few hours later, popping him hard on the shoulder, fussing about sleeping the day away.
But he took it, kissed her cheek, and promised to come by soon.
He also noticed that as much as she complained, she’d let him sleep, which was her way of keeping him around for a little longer.
An hour after he left his mother's place, Asao was back home trying to figure out how many more distractions he could use to prevent him from reaching out to Samari.
He hadn't decided how to help her yet. Contracts were a beast he might not have the power to fight without leverage when it came to Cobra.
He needed to have a bargaining tool and he didn't know what that was yet.
Needing a sounding board, Asao hit Niles up to see where he was.
When Niles let Asap know he was at the studio with Dom, working with an artist Asao had never heard of, he decided to swing by and run a few things by them.
In order to get them on board with what he needed, he had to give them something they wanted.
He’d known Samari less than twenty-four hours and was already adjusting shit in his life to accommodate her.
He chuckled arrogantly, thinking about how his pops would say she was going to ruin Asao the same way his mother had ruined Leedren.
Only his father’s fairytale had ended with a thirty-year bid.
Asao damn sure didn't want that for himself.
"What's good?" Dom was the first to greet him when he entered the studio. He was behind the soundboard while Niles’s big ass sat in the corner frowning at his phone.
"Ain't shit, what's his problem?"
"Don't know and don't care. He's been looking crazy as fuck since he got here. Mad at the fucking world." Dom's eyes shot over to Niles who grunted and lifted a finger in the air without removing his eyes from the device. He pounded away at the screen right after.
Asao smirked, watching. "Since when do you let a woman get you in your feelings, Niles?" he asked.
Niles grunted again but didn't respond.
"He doesn't have feelings," Dom joked and Niles shot him a glare worse than his normal angry scowl.
Asao and Dom both looked at each other, speaking at the same time. "Definitely a woman."
"Fuck y'all," Niles mumbled.
Asao chuckled and pointed to the booth. "Who's that?"
"Nobody yet, but if we do this thing Niles has been talking about, he could be.
He's nice, just young. Like fifteen, I think. Hang on." Dom pressed a button then spoke to the kid. He was tall, had to be over six feet, and skinny as hell. He wore glasses and had a short ’fro that was picked out. No twists or style, just a ’fro.
Dressed in jeans and a hoodie both dark, there wasn't anything special about the kid just looking at him.
"Ay. Jo, run the last couple verses you just worked on."
The kid lifted his face, then pushed the tip of his finger into the frame of his glasses and moved them up before nodding with a scowl. He didn't appear angry, just focused. Determined.
Dom started the track and Asao was about to open his mouth to complain about how dope it was.
The track should have been Asao’s, not some random person’s, but he quickly shut the fuck up when the kid began to flow.
His cadence was fast but clear. The lyrics were smooth and flowed together but punctuated so anyone listening understood him.
He also had a point to his words. They weren’t just random shit or things that rhymed.
The kid was telling a story about judging a book by its cover. His story.
"Damn…" Asao muttered, watching the kid in the booth.
"Didn't see that coming, did you?"
"Hell no." He chuckled and Dom grinned.
"When he asked me for a track, said he didn't have much money but would pay overtime if I let him, I brushed his ass off. I stepped off, he grabbed my arm, stuck his chest out, and started rhyming. Blew my fucking mind to hear all that from him…”
Dom tossed his chin at the booth.