31. Wyn #2
“You better not touch my fucking margaritas, Autumn Night. Bad enough you bringing all this sin into my house. If your sister wants to drink with her mom, she has that right. Don’t you think? Uncle Rico?”
“Mom.” I lick my lips, finally finding my voice. “I’ve been gone a year. I thought we could have a nice, family lunch. Can we just have that?”
When Mom’s eyes shift to me, they soften, just a little.
“I wish you’d stop with those wigs,” she mumbles, before her whole face transforms and she gazes at Dad. He throws an apologetic smile my way before clearing his throat.
“I’m glad you’re okay Wynnie. Glad you’re safe. Both of you; my girls. How are you, Autumn?”
Auty sits up, opening her mouth to reply, but Mom cuts her off.
“You know how she is, Aaron. On an expressway to damnation and dragging our poor grandbaby with her.”
“You never had this much to say before?! I’ve been with Patience for years!”
“And now your ‘girlfriend’ is married to your baby daddy, and you have Royce thinking all that shit’s normal. I don’t know where I went wrong with you… both of you. What happened with Cochise, Wynter? How did you let him slip through your fingers for… him?”
My hand reaches to scratch my neck, but I took my press-ons off, and my blunt nails aren’t doing the job. Shifting in my seat again, I reach out and take Rico’s hand, placing it in my lap.
“Mom,” I try in a soothing voice I don’t feel, “I’ve known Rico for a long time. He actually helped me get sober last year. Helped me clear my mind.”
She bristles, her eyes tracking Rico lifting my hand to his mouth to kiss the back of my palm. His lips are soft on my skin, but I still feel how hard he’s holding back. Even if I couldn’t, him being so silent is a dead giveaway, too.
I squeeze his hand, letting them fall into his lap this time. He rubs the skin around my sore cuticles, careful as ever even with his big ass fingers.
He’ll never be around these people again. Not if I can help it.
“You done talking shit? The food is getting cold.” Turk yawns, fixing Auty’s plate before his own. She doesn’t touch it, especially since it’s only a glob of potato salad and caesar salad. I throw a rib on her plate. “Eat,” I intone.
She glares at me, her eyes shifting behind me before her lips twist.
“You ain’t allergic to no rib, Auty. Eat.”
“It’s a little too late to be watching your figure, Autumn. You already lost your man.”
“Mom!” I turn to her as Rico grabs my plate. “What the fuck?! Like seriously, shut up.”
“Amani–”
Mom turns to Dad, who just sighs. He grabs his beer and gets up to go inside, leaving us with her.
“Like I was saying,” she drawls, pouring more margarita into her tall glass, “everyone can’t be blessed like us, Wynter. Autumn is finally watching her figure, so you should be mindful. Here. Fill your cup.”
“It’s always like this?”
I turn to Rico, who only has eyes for Turk.
“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and Auty’s back with the other.
Turk used to take up for Auty, especially before Deucey came along.
All it would do would make Auty more mad, and then they’d be into it, Auty competing with Mom on who could say the worst one-liners.
When Auty told everyone she was pregnant, G-Pops and Mom almost came to blows, and Turkey banned Auty from talking to our parents until after she gave birth.
Now he’s just quiet, at Auty’s behest. Supporting her and then trying to undo all the damage that incurs every time Amani Shaw sees the daughter she never wanted.
“And you just be taking this shit?”
“Shut up talking to me, Richard,” Auty spits, folding her arms.
I take my hand out of Rico’s lap and sit on my hands so I don’t reach for the pitcher. It was a reflex, something I barely registered a thought of. My mouth dries, and I try to focus on the lone bead of sweat traveling down the bridge of my nose instead of the tequila calling my name.
This was such a bad idea. Such a bad idea.
“Thirsty?”
Rico’s leaning into me, his lips dangerously close to mine. He brings the ball of his tongue ring between his teeth as he watches me give him a jerky nod.
“I got you.”
He grabs the pitcher and my cup and holds both away from the table, on top of the grass.
“Rico–”
But the pitcher completely misses the cup. The margaritas pour directly into the grass, slowly, inches away from the cup. He sets the cup on the table and continues to pour the rest of the alcohol into the grass, before placing the empty pitcher on the table next to my cup.
The table is quiet as he grabs the pitcher of water, smells it, then places it back down.
“I’ll stop and get you some bottled water, Snow.”
“Who the hell do you think–”
“I’m the one keeping ya daughter from becoming a sloppy, miserable drunk like her mother.”
Mom squeals before turning to me. “You’d let this boy disrespect me?!”
“I’ve heard you disrespect both ya daughters all day. You can’t take it?” Rico tilts his head, like he’s really waiting for her to answer.
“Neither one of y’all ever really had a chance,” he continues, shaking his head. “A damn shame. Turk, you can do what you want with yours, but this will be the very last time Snow ever sees this bitch. We out.”
He stands, his chair falling behind him. When we lock eyes, I stand, too, sliding my hand into his.
“Oh, so you jump when this nigga says so?!” Mom spits, standing as well.
“Snow yields to a real nigga ‘cause she knows, unlike everyone else she related to, I wouldn’t lead her astray. You done beating her down, and you done acting like she someone she not. She dead to you, like ya first kid.”
Mom blanches, flinching like Rico struck her. He turns to Auty, who refuses to meet his gaze.
“Stop using your sister to try to attain some shit that’s never gon’ happen, Haze. The bitch you came from ain’t capable of love. Don’t even love herself. And I’m not letting Snow kill herself to please you no more.”
Rico drags me into the house, my feet heavy as they slap against the ground. Dad stands to say something to Rico, but Mom shrieking stops everyone in the house.
“You unhand my fuckin’ daughter right now! How dare you come into my house and speak to me this way?!”
Rico turns and pinches my chin, tilting my head up. “Snow, tell this lady I shoot bitches.”
“Hey, that’s my wife–”
If I wasn’t standing right in front of Rico, I would have missed it. I only would have felt the air from his body turning, his fist surging through the air.
Right into Dad’s cheek.
He drops like a bag of laundry, crumpled onto the floor.
“Damn!” Deucey says somewhere in the background. I can’t look away from Rico standing over my dad, kicking his side to ensure he’s really knocked out.
He turns to Mom, eyes hooded and flat. She makes a panicked noise, but I still can’t look away from this man.
“You enjoy these last days of yours, Amani Shaw. I’on wanna hear shit about regrets when you see me again.”
Auty calls my name, but Rico is already walking us to his car. Him knocking Dad out replays over and over in a loop, all throughout the car ride to my apartment, up the elevator, until we're back in my foyer.
The wheel has been spinning on which emotion I feel the most. Lust, anxiety, disappointment, resignation.
When the loop stops, the wheel lands on anger, and I snatch my hand out of Rico’s and push him hard. He moves slightly, since I caught him off guard.
“Nigga, you hit my fucking dad!”
He keeps walking toward the back, and I follow him, pushing him and calling him everything but a child of God.
When we get to my bedroom, he turns, grabbing my wrists and walking me to the wall. “You can get your issue off without putting your hands on me.”
“You don’t respond to shit but violence! That was my dad Rico!”
“That nigga ain’t shit to you, Snow! The fuck?! What type of nigga lets both his daughters be constantly disrespected! He don’t fuck with you, and I know it seem like it ‘cause he don’t be like ya mama, but if he truly loved you, he woulda left her bitch ass a long time ago.”
The truth washes over me, leaving me with shame. I look away, but he puts both my wrists in one hand and tilts my chin again.
“I’ll never let a muthafucka keep breathing after they’ve hurt you. Pay your respects in private ‘cause both of them as good as gone.”
“You can’t kill them,” I whisper, though even in my own ears, the plea is weak.
I washed my hands of them both a long time ago.
Rico hit the nail on the head perfectly earlier; this is all for Auty.
I know they’re only still alive because she pleaded their case to Turkey.
Everyone is on one accord except for her.
Rico combs his bottom lip with his teeth. “I’m not repeating myself.” He leans in but I turn away, his lips landing on my cheek instead.
“Before this morning, I hadn't seen you in weeks. I don’t know where those nasty lips have been!”
Rico’s forehead drops to my temple. I feel his lips spread on my cheek, and I hate that my core reacts to it.
“You don’t trust me, Snow?”
“Hell no!” I push him off me, grateful he actually gives us space. He shoves his hands in his pockets like I’m being unreasonable.
“You don’t have no job, and Mars is back in school. I don’t know what you do, or where you be all day. You’ll facetime me at all hours of the night, or comment on my posts, and today you pop up, but I’on know shit, and I’on know you.”
“You don’t know me, Snow?”
“No!” I bellow. “I don’t. And really, you not even supposed to be here. You said a year.”
“So, if I’m giving you a year, why does it matter what the fuck I’m doing or who I could be doing it with?” He swipes that stupid, gifted tongue across his bottom lip, like he’s got me pegged.
I match his smirk. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. You can leave. Don’t need you meeting my new potential.”
“Fasho. I gotta go see ‘bout my other bitch anyway,” he shrugs. I raise my hand as he takes a step toward the door, but then he’s all in my space again, breathing like a bull as his hands rest around my neck.