Page 65 of Crossing Lines

“No!” She writhes away from me. “You know I don’t like those places.”

“They can help you.”

“I don’t need help from nobody,” she grits, backing away. “Not even you. Forget it, Kross. Just forget it.”

“Mama, wait.” I reach for her arm as she turns.

She peels around and smacks me across the face, regretting it as I touch my stinging jaw. “Oh, baby. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Leave!” I spit in fury. “Do what you’re good at.”

Crying, she speed-walks down the dark street. My feet move forward a tad, part of me wanting to chase her. But I’m exhausted. Maybe it truly is time to let go.

I compose myself and veer back inside. Anif casts me a sympathetic look before heading to the main area.

When I emerge from the passage, Cairo approaches and hands me a drink. “You good? What happened?”

I throw back the liquor and tell him, “It was my mama. She wanted money for drugs and took off when I wouldn’t give her any.”

“Damn,” he exhales. “Want me to drive around and look for Mashonda? Maybe I could put her in—”

“It’s cool, man. Don’t worry about it.”

He scowls. “You sure?”

“I’m letting her go. It’s high time.”

Doubt clouds his gaze while he studies my face.

“Look, she’s…” I forget the ability to talk as Davia appears in a burgundy, mid-thigh, bandage-style dress that hugs her curvy figure and shows a bit of cleavage. It’s like she came fresh off the runway, hair in loose waves, smoky makeup with red lips, skin oiled up and glowing under the lights.

“Damn, look at Davia,” Cairo remarks, nudging my arm like I’m not staring at the incredible visual. “Respectfully, of course. Listen, forget what I said. She came to see her man. That man isyou.” He flashes me a knowing look before walking off, nodding to Davia as she approaches me.

“Hi.” Her brown eyes glisten with her radiant smile. “I’d like that drink.”

I trail over her in awe. “Baby girl, you look so good.”

“Thank you.” She runs her palms down the front of the dress. “I made this last year.”

“Thank you for wearing it.”

She plays with her hair, smiling shyly. “So...”

“Hang on.” I walk to the bar, grab a bottle and another glass, and lead Davia into my office.

She sits on the sofa, watching me pour the alcohol.

“You drove?” I check, sitting beside her.

“Took an Uber.”

I hand her the drink, hit it with mine, and chug.

“What’s the matter?” she asks softly. “You seem a bit uneasy.”

Talking openly about my mama is difficult, but my heart wants to spill everything to Davia. “Saw my mom out back tonight. She wanted money for drugs. Said some horrible things when I wouldn’t give her any.”

“I’m sorry.” She rubs my arm affectionately.

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