Page 44 of Body Language
Her mama smirked, tapping ashes. “Better a fool than a fake. You out here acting like you’re perfect.”
Niv inhaled, deep, like she was counting to ten. I knew that count. That was thedon’t cuss your mama out even though she deserve itcount.
Before she could let loose, my phone buzzed.
Outside. By your truck.
“Be right back,” I said, standing up.
I headed downstairs, grabbed the bag from my boy without a word, and jogged back up. I ain’t know if I was helping or making shit worse, but fuck it. I wasn’t about to let that circus drag out with cops around.
I walked in, set the weed on the table, and her mama lit up like Christmas.
“Well damn,” she grinned, sliding a tray out from under the table with papers already laid out. “Now you speaking my language.”
She started rolling like she’d been waiting all day.
Niv’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. She didn’t have to say it. Her whole body screamedNigga, I should beat the fuck outta you right now.
I shifted in my chair. “It’s handled.”
“It’s not handled,” she snapped, finally looking at me. “You just fed the problem.”
Her mama chuckled low, licking the paper closed. “You can go now, sugar,” she said to me like she was queen of the damn projects. “She’ll get someone to take her home.”
“I’m not leaving her here.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Niv said, voice sharp. “This used to be my home. I’m fine here.”
I leaned forward, locking eyes with her, even when she tried to look away. “I don’t care. If you need to get home, I’m taking you. Point blank.”
Her mama sparked the blunt, laid back like she ain’t just set the whole night on fire. “Go on, Niv,” she said, smoke curling around her words. “Let that man take you home. I’m tryna get high and relax. I don’t need you here all in my face, telling me what I need to do and not do.”
Niv snatched her purse off the chair, saying something under her breath, and walked out.
We hit the stairwell, and I could feel the steam rolling off Niv. She wasn’t even looking at me. Then this little voice came from nowhere.
“Niv… can I talk to you?”
We both turned.
Shorty couldn’t have been more than fifteen, sixteen. Pretty little face, nervous eyes.
Niv sucked her teeth, annoyed as hell. I knew she wanted to keep walking, but she stopped. “What you need, Zejah?”
The girl twisted her hands. “I, um… I need to go to the doctor tomorrow. And I need some money.”
Niv tilted her head. “I know your mama got Medicaid. Appointments should be free.”
Zejah looked down, shaking her head. “Niv, please. I don’t need a sermon right now. I just… I just need what I need.”
I saw Niv’s jaw flex, but she didn’t argue. She dug into her purse, pulled out three twenties, and handed them over.
The girl’s eyes got glassy, but she nodded quickly, clutching the bills like they were gold. “Thank you, Niv.”
Niv turned, heading for the truck.
While her back was turned, I slipped a folded hundred out my pocket, slid it into the girl’s palm. She looked up at me, shocked, lips moving in a silent thank you.
