Page 12 of A Kingpin's Weakness
“Staci man flyin’ all her girls out for the weekend,” she added, like that explained everything.
“S3,” I said calmly, “go use the bathroom and clean yourself up so we can go.”
I heard the music thumping from inside, bass heavy, cheap hookah smoke probably clouding the living room. I followed my son inside. I didn’t care who Imani had in her house when I bought it, I told her it came with no strings. But I did care who was around my son. This life I lived? I couldn’t afford to be careless.
I didn’t let nobody know where I laid my head. Imani, even with me movin’ her out to the burbs behind a damn security gate, still managed to turn her home into a trap full of freeloaders and bad decisions.
As soon as I stepped inside, the room went quiet, eyes on me like I was some urban legend. Imani followed close behind, her energy shiftin’. She always tried to act like we were still something. Still had something.
What she didn’t know was the day I questioned whether myoppsmight’ve been S3’s real father, was the day I made a vow. I’d never touch her again. It had been six years, and she still clung to hope like it was a Birkin bag.
“Hey, Seth,” one of her girls purred, bold enough to speak. She used her mouth. The rest of them just used their eyes; hungry and disrespectful.
I shook my head. These were the women Imani surrounded herself with. Girls who’d fuck me the second she turned her back. Girls with no loyalty. No code. But how could I expect any difference when Imani barely respected herself?
I glanced around once, then leaned back against the wall near the hallway waiting for my son. I wasn’t here for drama. I was here for S3. And when it came to him, I didn’t play.
“Can we talk?” Imani’s voice trailed behind me, soft but pressing.
I still hadn’t looked at her since I walked inside. Didn’t plan to, either. She tugged lightly at my arm, trying to guide me toward the bedroom. I already knew what that was about; just another show for her nosy-ass friends, like we were still something behind closed doors.
I let her lead the way. Once we got in the room, I didn’t move to sit. I just stood near the door, arms folded.
“What up?”
“I want to work things out,” she said, her eyes trying to pull sympathy from mine. “Try and give S3 a real family.”
“We don’t have to be together to give him that.”
“S3 wants his parents together.”
I raised a brow. “He told you that?”
I saw him almost every day. I picked him up from school, even when it wasn’t my week. I knew what made my son laugh, what made him cry, what nightlight he needed to fall asleep. Not once had he told me he wanted his mama and I back together.
“Yes,” she said flatly.
“I’ll talk to him.”
Imani scoffed, arms crossed. “And say what?”
She said it like she didn’t trust me with my own son’s heart.
“I’ll explain to him that’s not going to happen.”
Yeah, it sounded cold, blunt even, but it wouldn’t come out that way when I said it to my son. I wasn’t about to lie to S3. I’d listen to what he felt, then help him understand. That his mama and I were still his family, but not like that. Never like that.
Imani narrowed her eyes, right as S3 came running into the room full speed like a little whirlwind. Saved by the kid.
“You ready, Jit?”
I asked, grabbing S3 by the back of his head and guiding him out of his mama’s room. I didn’t give Imani the chance to keep dragging this pointless conversation. She trailed us all the way out to the truck, arms folded, lips poked, attitude heavy.
I buckled S3 in the backseat, checking to make sure he was good before I turned to face her one last time.
“I’m serious, Seth.”
“I am too.”
