Page 45 of The Brooklyn Way

“Is this about the NBA player that I keep seeing you with on social media? Carrington’s twin brother? I saw him promoting your business on his Instagram. I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Well, I didn’t… at first. Now, I know him intimately.” It was the gut-punch that I had been waiting to give Vince for years-- the thing that I hoped hurt him the way he hurt me.

He blinked rapidly taking a step back as if I had actually struck him. “It’s like that?”

“It’s like that,” I assured him.

“I guess I deserve that.”

I mumbled under my breath, “Guess?”

“I can admit that I was an asshole to you toward the end. I wasn’t very…” He seemed to search for the right words to use.

I helped him out. “Kind? Nice? Thoughtful? Respectful? Polite? Honorable? Upstanding?”

He chuckled. “Damn, you’ve been waiting a while to lay into me, huh?”

“Yep.” I agreed. “And now that I have, you should go.”

The screen door shut behind me with a loud bang. Soon, I heard the light pitter-patter of her house shoes and smelled the familiar scent of Happy perfume.

“Vince?” Big Red sounded as bewildered as I had been to see him standing there in her walkway.

“Hey, Mrs. Waverly.” His smile was bright.

“What in the world are you doing on my property, son? I know you didn’t come by here for—”

He interrupted her. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced. It’s just that I remembered that today is Mr. Waverly’s birthday. I know it’s always hard for Brooklyn. I just came to offer my support.”

The screen door opened and slammed shut once again.

“Offer your support?” It was my grandfather, Pop-Pop, doing the questioning this time. “The same support that had you pulling up to my wife’s table to eat her food, but pulling away from the balloon release and the memorial church service? That support? Because if that’s the same weak arse support you’re trying to bring, we don’t want it. Brooklyn doesn’t want it.”

“Sir,” Vince began, “I—”

Big Red cut him off. “Son, what could have ever driven you to show up here?” Her face mirrored the confusion she obviously felt. “When I left Londynville, I specifically told you that we wouldn’t see each other again on this side of glory. Did you not understand what I meant by that? I meant for you to stay away from my granddaughter. Did you honestly think that you could treat her so poorly and we would still welcome you into our home? Still encourage our granddaughter to entertain you? You took up with one of her clients, then let the girl drag my baby’s name on the social media, son. You refused to move out of the apartment and made Brooklyn a prisoner in the home where she paid half of the bills. Did you think I could overlook that?”

Vince looked stupefied, like it had never occurred to him that my grandmother didn’t fuck with him anymore.

“You know what made him show up here,” my busy-body cousin Endira said from where she stood on the porch next to Pop-Pop. I wasn’t even aware that she had come out with him. “He saw those pictures on Insta of Brooklyn with that fine NBA player, Cameron somebody or the other. They always want you back when you move on… especially when your new man is an upgrade. Come on, Brookie. Big Red put you a plate to the side. It’s probably getting cold.”

“Get out from in front of my house, little nigga,” I heard Pop-Pop say through gritted teeth.

“Go home,” Big Red seconded.

8

Cameron

One Month Later

“I need to talk to you.” Tiara slid into my office a few seconds after I’d arrived, closing the door behind herself. I saw her reach for the doorknob and surmised what she was about to do.

“Ay, don’t lock that door, Ti.”

She turned to me, a frown marring her usual good looks. “Why not? You worried that your girl is gonna try to open it and get her panties in a bunch if it’s locked?” Her frown morphed into a devious smirk. “Especially when she finds me in here with you?”

“Not at all, because the door won’t be locked… unless you’re on the other side of it.”

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