Page 71 of Deuce

My father looked between us. A smirk found its way to his face as he put two and two together.

“The pool table?” he asked.

“Pool table,” Maceo confirmed.

“What about a pool table?” my mama asked, looking around the table at the grins on their faces. “Why are y’all smiling?”

I answered before any other could. “It ain’t nothing. Just an inside joke.”

I didn’t need a lecture on how I shouldn’t treat women like objects or use them for their body parts. I don’t think it ever occurred to her than women use me too. Women like Santana used me every chance I allowed them to. I mean, I enjoyed being used in that capacity. But that wasn’t an argument I was willing to have with her.

“Anyway, Ma. You will meet her tomorrow. You can ask her anything. Just don’t mention the pool table.”

My siblings broke into laughter. There was no question… the pool table was as good as mentioned.

Dinner was over, and my mother had left. I managed to avoid giving her too many details about Salima and she avoided telling me about whatever man it was that she was going out with. That was fine. She didn’t have to give me a name and Jaeda didn’t have to do the research. I had other ways of finding out what I wanted to know.

I was currently sitting outside under the tree, smoking my blunt and scrolling through Salima’s Instagram account. She’d posted a picture of her and her mama on the couch in their pajamas with the caption,“Chill night with my best girl. #MamasBaby.”I double tapped the picture. For the last fifteen minutes, I’d been creeping through her profile.

Most of them were pictures of her by herself or her and Shar. A few of them were of her and her mom. The further I scrolled, the sadder the pictures became. I stumbled upon the ones of her and her father. One in particular was of her laying in a hospital bed with him.

The caption read,“Forever my favorite man. #DaddysGirl.”She hadn’t spoken a word about her father, and I hadn’t brought it up, even though I knew he was dead from Jaeda’s research. I knew how I felt about my people, so I had enough respect not to bring up sensitive topics.

I shook my head. Look at my ass being fucking considerate.

My thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps. I looked up to see my Uncle Blake. He took a seat beside me and reached for the blunt in my hand.

“Don’t get my shit wet with them big ass lips, Unc,” I said as I passed it to him.

“Fuck you, lil’ nigga.”

He held the blunt between his fingers and took a long pull from it. He held the smoke in for a moment and blew it out from his nose.

“That’s the good shit,” he commented. “This better be mine.”

“You know I don’t buy my weed from outsiders.”

He grinned as he elbowed me. “I’m just making sure. So… who’s this Salima? Who’s her people?”

I eyed him skeptically. I remembered Salima’s mama saying she knew of my father. Did that mean she knew my uncle too? What the fuck did he have to do with them?

“Navarro,” I answered slowly.

“Iman Navarro,” he said, more to himself than to me. He chuckled. “Damn, it’s a small world.”

“So, you knew him?”

“He was my best friend once upon a time. My right hand for years. That was until he met his wife. He asked her to marry him and she gave him an ultimatum; the streets or a family. He chose her.”

“I guess you didn’t like that.”

“Nah, I didn’t. We were about to touch more money and product than we ever had, and I needed him. There weren’t too many people outside of the family that I trusted with my shit, but I trusted him.”

“I mean, Unc. You can’t fault that man for choosing his family. You know damn well if it came down to it, you would choose blood over everything.”

“Maybe these days. Back then, it was loyalty over all. I felt like he switched up on me over a bitch. That shit pissed me off for the longest time. Then he came to me when he got sick and asked me for a favor.”

“What kind of favor.”

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