Page 93 of Love me Like XO

Gram walked in the bar first, then after about a minute and a half he called and told us to come in. It was his idea to go in first, because niggas knew mine and Ro’s face. His, not so much, so he went in and called the line looking for a nigga to answer.

When we entered, it was easy to spot Gram. Niggas stuck out like sore thumbs in places like this. Places with only token niggas and not hood niggas like me.

Seated at the table was a red head motherfucker with the palest fucking skin I’d seen in my life. The type of motherfucker that passed for Caucasian but that nappy ass hair on his chin told us what we needed to know. Didn’t matter to me though because all of them could catch this heat.

Ro was first to walk over and take a seat while I stopped at the bar. I wanted to feel the joint out. Counted five bodiesincluding the bartender. Somehow niggas had to walk this nigga up outta here without suspicion.

Here I was pondering on how we’d get outta here, when I looked up and spotted all three of them walking toward the door. Exactly what the fuck had they said to this nigga? Didn’t matter, because once I saw them exit, I did the same watching them walk to the car. After checking him, Gram instructed him to get in the back seat as he slid in as well.

The whole ordeal went so smooth that it had me checking the rearview the entire ride back to the city. Then when we made it, I had Ro hit the block at least twice before we went in with old boy.

EMPRESS

This morning instead of waking up to my sister all in my face, I had Irish. He didn’t hover as bad as Taree, but he did hover. Once he helped me down to my living room, we both sat on the couch in silence. He knew what he was doing. Something that only he had mastered. He knew how to stare at me long enough until I started spilling my fucking guts. It was involuntary if you asked me, but truthfully felt better when it came put.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re going through, and I probably never will, but it ain’t healthy to bottle that shit up. To walk around here nurturing life and wasting energy on shit you can’t change.”

“You’re right.”

“I know that much, but you gotta not be telling me that just to shut me up. Tell me that because you know I’m right. Because you know it’s time to stop sulking. Just because you’re stuck in this fucking house doesn’t mean you gotta sit here and be like this. It’s a lot of shit you should be doing. Hell, don’t you got kidsto plan for? Direct yo’ fucking energy. Ain’t that what you told me when I got shot?”

I nodded my head. “You’re right. Now what else did you come over here for?” I knew seeing Irish two times in one weekend meant something.

“Nothing. I just be worried ‘bout you.”

“Don’t be. I’ma gonna b—” I didn’t get the sentence out of my mouth good before I heard my doorbell ringing. “That better not be who I think it is.” By now I was mugging my brother.

“Shit, I don’t know who the fuck is at yo’ door.” He returned my mug, before going toward the door.

Him asking where the hell somebody had been caught my attention and had me ready to go the fuck off thinking it was my father. The good thing is within seconds I was looking at his lookalike. Rev was the only nigga I knew who dropped off the side of the earth on a regular. Then would pop back up like it was nothing.

“Where the hell have you been?” I mugged him now, disregarding the white box in his hand. Nigga probably had some pastries or some shit. Tryna treat me like a fat bitch and bring me sweets for his absence. As tempted as I was to fall for it, I didn’t. I stood strong and kept my mug intact.

He chuckled. “I been around, handling business.”

“Business like what, cause yo’ plane s’pose to landed days ago, nigga.” Irish rounded the sofa taking his original seat while we both kept eyes on Rev’s Houdini acting ass.

I laughed.

“Had some shit to handle. Bitch tried to pin a baby on me, and I wasn’t having that.” He shook his head.

“Well, did you fuck the bitch?” Irish asked.

“To a fucking cross.” He shook his head. “But I’m not that baby’s pappy.”

I shook my head. “Fucking sick.”

“What?” he asked attempting to seem confused.

“Nothing, now are you going to stand over there looking odd or run me that box.”

He of course brought the box over to me, before taking a seat next to me on the couch. By then I was in the box grabbing one of the caramel cupcakes that I’d been craving like crazy. I don’t know how he knew, but he got it the fuck right. “Rough ass week, huh?”

“Rough ass few months,” I corrected, sitting the box in the empty space between us. My focus rested now on the cupcake in hand.

“Yo, that’s some fat shit. Over there licking yo’ lips and memorized by a pastry.”

“Why you all over here? Why does it seem like you’re all in my business.” I bit into my cupcake.

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