Page 52 of Hood Legacy

“Nah, I collected a fucking debt,” he denied shaking his head. “I gave her the option, come willing or come.”

“Nigga, that’s kidnapping,” I replied, and he shook his head. “Call Earth and see if he agrees.”

“That nigga fell in love with the woman who kidnapped him, he ain’t gonna agree to shit you saying,” Pyrite replied. “But, that’s not the point.”

“Then, what is?”

“She's here. Paying off a debt her daddy and brother couldn’t.” A smile appeared on his face, and I shook my head. “Until that shit is paid, she’s mine.”

I laughed and leaned back in my seat. This nigga didn’t even realize it yet, but I could tell he had no intention of letting her go, even if she was able to pay the debt.

“Man, let’s go over these reports so I can get home to my woman,” I said, shaking my head. I nodded to the files I’d handed him earlier and waited as he looked it over.

“Bet,” he nodded, then closed the file. “Tell me what the fuck this report doesn’t tell me.”

“You’re about to own an NBA and WNBA champion team,” I answered, and he smiled. Glass breaking echoed through the house, and Pyrite jumped from his seat.

“If her little ass is trying to escape again, I’m going to tie her ass to a chair,” he said as he made his way out of his office. “Itty Bitty, your ass better not be doing nothing stupid!”

“Go to hell, Pyrite!” she yelled back just before more glass breaking sounded.

“You look pretty!”Ms. Arelene said as I walked into her house. She pulled me into a quick hug before stepping back. I handed her the bottle of wine I’d grabbed at the store on the way here. When I left practice, I had every intention of going home and grabbing a few things before returning to Aceyn’s house, but his mother called while I was on the way and invited me over for dinner. I couldn’t say no, nor did I want to. “I’m glad you could come.”

“I’m honored that you invited me,” I said as I closed the door. Ms. Arlene’s house was beautifully decorated in white, cream, and gold. Her house had an open floor plan with large bay windows that allowed natural light.

“Girl, please,” she said, waving me off. “I told Bowlin and Hood when we left Bali that I was inviting you for dinner as soon as we returned.”

“Speaking of Pop, where is he?” I looked around, trying to get a glimpse of where he could be. I knew they weren’t together, but Pop had declared on more than one occasion that he would be at her house daily.

“He went to run a few errands; he’ll be back,” she sighed, and I giggled. We walked into the kitchen, and the smell of gumbo filled the air. “He said to start eating without him.”

“I’m so glad,” I laughed. “I’ve been practicing at the arena all day and am starving.” I went to the sink and washed my hands.

“You better get your fill before my son gets here,” she laughed. “Take a seat, I got this.”

Ms. Arlene quickly fixed our plates as I watched her at the table. A small piece of me envied Aceyn for having the luxury of having a doting mother growing up. Seeing Ms. Arlene move around the kitchen easily was a sight to see.

“Say grace, and enjoy,” Ms. Arlene instructed, then set my bowl in front of me. “I know the DeCortes taught you to praise the lord.”

“Yes, ma’am, they did,” I giggled, then bowed my head to pray. I dug my spoon into the bowl with a smile when I finished. The first bite had my eyes rolling into the back of my head, and I moaned. “Oh my goodness, this is so good.”

“Thank you, baby,” she said as she sat across from me.

“You aren’t eating?” I asked, and she shook her head. “Not hungry?”

“My stomach can't take it,” she answered with a shrug. “Plus, I’m not hungry right now.” While in Bali, I noticed that she didn’t eat much, and I attributed it to the fact that we were in another country, and she wasn’t used to how they prepared food. “But don’t worry about me, enjoy your meal.”

“You sure?” I lifted my brow, and she nodded. “Because I can make you something.”

“Can you cook?” she questioned. “Because I heard you say while we were in Bali that you ordered out most of the time.”

“I order out because I’m never at home,” I answered with a laugh as I stood. “And I can do a little.”

“How have you survived this long not knowing how to cook?” she questioned.

I picked up my bowl, walked to the counter, and set it down to give Ms. Arlene my full attention. “I knew the basics until college, and then I met Mercy. Every week, she had me in the kitchen, learning to do something different, and I’m not going to lie, I hated it at first. As our friendship progressed, I realized we were learning and healing together. She had her guilt, and I had this emptiness.”

“What do you mean?”

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