Page 24 of Devanté
“You coming to the bar?” She asked.
“Nah girl, I need to get home and get dinner started.”
“Ugh. You just worked all day and you have to make dinner? You haven’t hired a chef yet?”
“No. Plus I like cooking. I’m good at it.”
“Oh, I know. You make pupusas better than Abuelita. It’s just so draining with all the mental work you do all day then going home to cook.” I knew what she was hinting at and I ignored her. “Okay girl, love you. See you tomorrow.” She wrapped me in a warm hug. “Call me if you need to talk.”
“I will.” I kissed her cheek and smiled as she walked away. When I got in the car, I put on Mint Condition and drove home while Stokely sang to me about Pretty Brown Eyes while telling me I didn’t have to hurt no more. Just like that.
You don’t have to hurt no more…
My chest tightened at the words because honestly, I wondered if I would ever stop hurting. How was it that I was well adjusted, had my dream, and a beautiful home but there was still something achy in my chest that wouldn’t let me be fully happy?
I pulled into the driveway and let my head fall heavy against the headrest while I finished listening to my song. I grabbed my bag and climbed out once the music went off. My feet were led bricks making each step harder and heavier to take. I wished I could sink into the earth.
When the front door opened, I heard the familiar sound of deep, laughter ringing through the house. I moved into the living room and sat my things down, hoping nobody heard me come in.
My shoulders hugged my ears when I heard my name being called. “Blake, babe, is that you?” Devin rounded the corner handsome as ever with a smile on his face and an open beer in his hand. “I thought I heard my girl come in. How was your day?” He kissed my cheek, then pulled back to look at me.
“It was good. Mr. Horner was…”
“Yo, can you make me and the boys some of those jalapeno poppers with the bacon?” His words scissored through mine. I blinked a few times, trying to find the shreds of our abandoned conversation.
“Um…give me a minute, Devin. I just got home.”
“Hey, Blake. What’s up? You just now getting home?” Cody, one of Devin’s friends who never seemed to have a house of his own to stay in, watched me with a smile.
“Yeah, that’s how jobs usually work, Cody.”
“Don’t be condescending, Blake. It’s not a good look.” Devin squeezed the back of my neck. “Get on those poppers.” He headed back into the den where him and his other friends had decided to congregate.
“Oh, you’re making those little popper things with the bacon? Sweet. I fucking love those.”
“I’m sure you do.” I rolled my eyes and went upstairs to my room. I needed a moment of peace and quiet before I became house mom for Devin and his friends. Sometimes, I wished just once I could come home from work to find an empty house and nothing but silence. I wanted to play my 90s music and dance around the house. I wanted to enjoy my man without his friends always being over.
That was impossible though. Devin was a popular social media comedian, which meant he was never without his crew. All of them were comedians and they’d formed a group called the Blue Boyz.
None of them were even remotely involved in any Crip activity but the name worked for their brand. I knew because I came up with it. I built the Blue Boyz from the ground up and in the midst of it all, I thought I’d fallen in love with Devin. I wasn’t so sure recently because my house had become his, and all his friends took it as an open, never-ending invite to my space.
I needed my space.
It was my garden. My space to grow or not…whatever I chose. I couldn’t choose anything with my house full of four grown-ass men who wanted me to cook for them all the time like some damn den mother.
Frustration stiffened my bones. I moved to the closet like a robot taking off my clothes and changing into a sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. I took a few moments to myself to center my energy then I got ready to make jalapeno poppers for grown men who’d been in the house cracking jokes and filming videos all day.
…
