Page 6 of Love's Free Will

The houseI bought for my mama sat on a quiet street in South Fulton, in one of them new, suburban neighborhoods that had just enough Black folks to feel like home, but still far enough from the hood that she didn’t have to worry about gunshots at night.

It wasn’t no mansion—my mama wasn’t the type for all that. But it was big, real nice, with a wraparound porch, a brick driveway, and a backyard big enough for cookouts. It was the first thing I bought when I got money, and even though I had my own condo in Midtown, this was what home felt like.

Here, the air always smelled like home cooked meals, the TV was always just a little too loud, and the house was full of love. I let myself in, already grinning at the sound of my mama’s voice in the kitchen.

“Y’all bring y’all asses in here before this food get cold!”

“Damn, Ma, can we sit down first?” Kingston laughed, dropping onto the couch like he paid bills here.

I went straight to the kitchen, where my mama stood at the stove, stirring a pot with one hand, holding her glass of Crown Royal and Coke in the other.

Queenie Teegan was all attitude, all heart, and didn’t take shit from nobody. Dark skin, high cheekbones, a sharp bob that stayed laid, and eyes that could cut through bullshit from a mile away. My mama had been fine as hell her whole life, and she still was, even though she’d tell you she was “too old for all that.”

She turned, smiling the moment she saw me. “There go my baby.”

I grinned, stepping forward and wrapping her up in a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hey, Ma.”

She pulled back, smacking my chest lightly. “Boy, let me look at you. You eat today?”

I smirked. “Nah, I was waiting on you to cook.”

She sucked her teeth but looked pleased. “You lucky I love you.”

“I know,” I said, pulling up a seat at the kitchen island as she went back to the stove. “So how was your day?”

She waved a hand, sipping her drink. “Same shit, different day. You know how it go. What about you?”

I leaned back, rubbing my jaw. “Logan came by the studio.”

Queenie glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah? What he want?”

I sighed. “To tell me my music sound the same and he bringing in some new producer to ‘switch it up’.” I put that in air quotes, already annoyed all over again.

Her brows lifted. “And what’s wrong with that? Sometimes change can be good. You never know what can come out of this. At least if you do it and it doesn’t work you can say you tried at least.”

I frowned. “Ma.”

She shrugged, turning back to the stove. “I said what I said.”

“It ain’t even just a producer,” I muttered, shaking my head. “He want me to work with some Hollywood actress from that corny-ass witch show Princess be watching.”

My mama turned this time, fully facing me. “Who?”

“Some chick named Averi St. Claire.”

She blinked. “Wait, the lil’ girl fromThe Coven?”

I rolled my eyes. “Man, yes.”

She pursed her lips, considering. “Huh. I mean, she is talented, Royal.”

I frowned. “Ma, no. Don’t tell me you on his side too.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I mean, I ain’t gon’ lie, baby—your music do be sounding the same sometimes.”

I sucked my teeth. “Wow, so this is what betrayal feels like?”

Queenie swatted me with a dish towel. “Boy, hush.”

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