Page 86 of The Heir

“There’s a fuckin’ genius,” Easy spat, causing me to draw a sharp breath.

“Get the fuck out here and square up.”

“What?” I spat, stepping out of the shadows in a hurry.

“You heard me. You want to run up making ‘big man’ decisions, well you ain’t the fuckin’ man here. I am. Step the fuck up. How the fuck are you going to look me in my eye back there with your mom and say you’re going to follow me to Georgia in a year, and then come here and hop on Makaveli’s dick and take a patch. A patch to my club. I said we were gonna talk about shit, Blaze.”

He was red in the face and screaming so loudly I was certain the cops were going to be called. He was twice as loud as the music had ever been.

“Easy–” My lips floundered as I tried to process what he was saying and not scold him about his tone. Something told me that wouldn’t go over well, even if it was killing me to say something. “I– you–”

“‘I–you–‘ you sound like a fucking child. You want to be a man, but you aren’t acting like one. You’re out here acting like a dumbass.”

Marchella stepped out into the light, her hair was a mess, it was obvious I’d been using it as a fuck leash.

Easy lifted his chin, and stared down at me, judging me in that silent way of his.

“I just need to know why–” His voice rose and cracked.

“I thought you were staying.”

“Wh–? You heard me say we were going. You said you were going, too. You and March, off to Georgia with me and Trista and May—”

I nodded, my gaze shifting to the porch where Trista remained.

Her arms were folded across her chest, her smile firmly in place, despite her husband's outburst.

“Are you done yet?” she asked once he paused for air.

Easy whipped around like he meant to fuck someone up over the question. When he found no one but his wife standing there his jaw went slack with disbelief.

“What the fuck do you mean am I done, Trista? This is my nephew. I– I can’t fucking leave him to this shit.”

Trista tipped her head, and I could have sworn the smile met her eyes.

“Go– where, Eric?” she finally huffed, stepping down off the porch. “Where exactly did you think you would whisk me and our son off to?”

Easy’s clenched fist slowly uncurled.

“Wh– what the fuck are you talking about? We talked about this, babe. We’re going to Atlanta with Oak and Crystal.”

Trista gave a sardonic laugh and shook her head, “No, Eric. You told me we were going to Georgia. You unilaterally made a snap decision because your bestie and your nephew were in town. Well, guess what? Me and May aren’t going anywhere. Your nephew ain’t either, now.”

She paused and looked at me, “Sorry, but if it's any comfort to you, I know what you want. And I can help you with that, but I can only help if I’m here and I had to use you to do that.”

“W– Are you saying you just used me to checkmate your husband?” I blurted out, finally catching on.

“Aunt Trista!” Marchella exclaimed.

Trista raised her shoulder and gave an apologetic half smile to her niece, “Baby, I don’t function without marijuana. Okay? I’m down to two pharmaceuticals, just two. It feels great. Real empowering, but if I don’t have those two pills and just the right amount of weed to buffer them in between, my thoughts spin, my demons roar, I disappear inside of myself and stop functioning. I’m not a mother, I’m not a wife, I’m a fucking shell of a person. I refuse to move to a state where I can be put in prison for the medication I require to function on a daily basis. If my husband cannot accept that, I don’t know what to tell him.You might be angry with me, love, but I promise, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll personally see that my brother and son have his back, and I will stay here until the day he leaves even if his uncle doesn’t. You have my word on that. If no one else will support y’all, Auntie Trista will.”

I closed my eyes and tried to count to ten. Some people said that shit worked. I did it twice and they were still arguing in a circle around me.

“I can’t believe you,” Easy whispered, and I looked up in time to see him back stepping a few paces. He stared at Trista a long while then shifted his gaze to me, “I’m sorry, nephew. I never thought I’d have to protect you from the woman I saved.”

He turned and walked off without a word. His bike fired up a few minutes later and he took off.

Marchella had tears in her eyes, and she was staring at me like she was waiting on me to react. They both were.

---