Page 96 of Save Room for Us

“Here.” She reached up to hand me a small measuring cup.

Chuckling at her smart ass, I took it and put the batter in, hoping this shit came out edible. I threw that fucking bacon in the microwave, said a prayer, and let the shit ride. Hours later it seemed, I was finished, and I had definitely seen worse.

“There you go, princess.” I put the plate in front of Sophie who I’d set at the table.

“Yuck!” She stared at it. “No, no way.” Her tiny hands lifted to shake at me.

“That looks horrible,” Anastazia said from the doorway of the bedroom. She was wearing a robe, so I knew she’d taken a shower.

“Horrible is a stretch, aight. It don’t look that good, but I wouldn’t say horrible.”

Anastazia laughed as she came over toward us, getting a better look at the plate.

“It looks okay. You’re right,” she lied, turning to look up at me with a smile. Coming closer, she got on her tiptoes to hugmy neck and kiss me before saying, “This was sweet. Thank you. Just wake me up next time.”

“Nah, I’m taking her picky ass to McDonald’s next time.” I gave her round ass a quick squeeze as she giggled.

Anastazia went back into the kitchen and, for the next half hour, proceeded to make pancakes, bacon, eggs, and crispy potatoes. Would have a nigga in the streets later withitis, but every time I thought about the reason why, the shit had me smirking.

“What you think?” my pops asked, smiling down at the old ass Corvette he’d purchased to fix up as we stood in his big ass work garage.

“Looks nice, but you gon’ be working on this shit for years, Pop.” I eyed it, circling the vehicle.

“Won’t take me that long, but the shit was cheap, and I’m gon’ be able to flip it for a cool twenty grand when I’m finished.” He folded his arms.

“You know you rich, right?” I jested, making him chuckle.

“I do know that, but now that you running shit within the bank, and I ain’t doing nothing else. I need something to keep me busy when my wife is working.”

Nodding, I said, “Well you got the right fucking one.” I watched as he lifted the hood. “I gotta take out one of my right-hands. Good one too.”

“Who?” He frowned, standing upright.

“Grady.”

“Why?”

“Don’t trust his ass no more, and I got a bad feeling about the nigga.”

“Aight, but you have to go on more than a feeling, Sif. You can’t be killing niggas, especially good workers, off feelings.”

“Who says? I thought I made the rules, nigga.”

“You do, young nigga.” He nodded. “But?—”

“So I ain’t really taking suggestions at the moment, Pop.” I let him know and he nodded. “Sometimes all you need is a feeling. My gut ain’t never steered me wrong with shit. Other niggas can run shit how they please, but me? I’m not letting no nigga I don’t trust run free just to get smoked when he finally pulls his plan off. Nah.” I shook my head. “I like to eliminate problems before they become problems.”

“So why you don’t trust him?” Crossing his arms, his brows dipped as he awaited my answer.

“Questions shit too much, for one, then after he and I started sparring a little bit, I get shot. Lastly, he ran back and told Anastazia some shit, trying to be messy. While it wasn’t a big deal ’cause she ain’t let it become one, I don’t like that shit. I don’t roll with niggas who gossip and act like bitches over pussy.

“He the type to wait ’til I get hemmed up to try and fuck my bitch. And if I let him live, then I deserve that shit.”

My father nodded, lips tucked in before saying, “I feel that shit, but maybe hold off until you get something a tad more solid, Sif. Sound to me like y’all just ain’t seeing eye to eye. The Anastazia shit is a red flag, but he could be just one of them tender ass niggas. They cool but get hurt over pussy easy.”

“I don’t engage with niggas that get tender over pussy. And it’s an even bigger problem if that pussy mine,” I stated, making him laugh.

“I respect it, son.”

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