Page 17 of Bern and Isley
“Yeah, I knew the place needed some work before I bought it. That’s why the selling price was so low,” I admitted. “Thankfully it didn’t cost but a couple of hundred to fix that.”
She nodded. “Okay, baby. You know more about these things than I do. I’m just so happy for you. I know Isley was over the moon about it, wasn’t she?”
I grinned, remembering the joy on her face when I revealed the news. “You already know.”
“That’s the type of woman you need to marry, Claybern.”
“Oh, here you go,” I sighed.
She threw her hands up. “I’m just calling it like I see it, son. Isley is a beautiful person. Inside and out. Loyal. Kindhearted. She’s always been a joy to be around. You just don’t run across people like her very often.”
I couldn’t argue about any of the attributes my mother had rattled off like a shopping list. Isley was all of those things plus more. And I agreed that coming across a jewel like her didn’t happen often. Maybe even once in a lifetime.
“I’m not trying to be all in your business. But I think you should definitely consider if y’all are meant to be more than friends. The fact that y’all have built a solid friendship gives you a head start to what could be a beautiful, strong relationship.”
“I hear you,” I replied, attempting to sound nonchalant. I was taking in everything my mother said.
“Okay, so when are you doing this apartment hunting? I’m still mad about it, but I respect your decision to move out.”
“I have an appointment tomorrow to check out the unit in D-Ville after Isley retwists my hair.”
“Okay.” She exhaled deeply. “On the bright side, with you gone, I can let my boo thing spend the night. We can walk around in our birthday suits with no regard.”
I frowned in disgust. “You doing too much now.”
She cackled as she stood from the table. “I’m just trying to find the positives.”
“Mmmhmm. I don’t want to hear all of that.”
“My bad,” she giggled as she walked off, leaving me at the table meditating on everything she said about me and Isley. The more I thought about it, the more I tried to hype myself up to reveal my true feelings to Isley the next day. Fuck it, I was going to do it.
Chapter 9
Isley
I was loadingthe dishwasher when Marshall told me he’d seen Bern at the basketball court. I’d never known him to even play pickup ball. He worked out at the gym faithfully. But in the year we’d been dating, not once had he mentioned playing ball with the boys. Especially not in my hood. So when he mentioned Bern, I had an inkling the conversation would be far from pleasant.
“That nigga really act like he got a problem with me, Isley.” Marshall crossed his arms and peered at me. “He was muggin’ me as soon as I stepped on the court. I knew then what kind of timing he was on. Then the muhfucka kept going out of his way to foul hard and shit.”
I turned my back to him, rolling my eyes as I put the dish in the cabinet. The shit was either all in his head or he was being soft. If it was that deep, he should’ve fouled back was what I wanted to say. But I just continued to listen intently.
“I started to swing on that nigga.”
I turned around as I dried the last dish to face Marshall. He was still sitting in the same spot as he had during dinner. He sat and watched me clean afterward. He glowered at me like I was the one who fouled his ass. I knew he wanted to get a rise out ofme by the way his eyes dared me to defend Bern. I didn’t fall for it though.
“Well, I’m glad things didn’t get that far,” I finally said to fill the awkward silence. It was a great decision on Marshall’s behalf to not start shit he couldn’t finish. Not only was Bern capable of handling his own. Every nigga around there would’ve had his back. Those weren’t the kind of problems Marshall wanted. I didn’t even want to think about how they would have hemmed him up had he chosen violence.
“That’s why I hate niggas who’ve served time. They think they’re so tough. He was probably getting his ass whooped everyday behind bars.”
I didn’t reply. I refused to give him the reaction he was looking for. I placed the remaining dishes in the cabinets on the shelves where they belonged then wiped the counters and table.
“I’m just saying the nigga acts like he wants me to put some lead in his ass,” Marshall spat.
My heart nearly stopped. The blood in my veins boiled. “Is that some kind of threat, Marshall?”
“It’s not a threat, just an observation.” He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “I’m just saying the nigga is too comfortable disrespecting me.”
“Are we still talking about basketball or something else?”
