Page 15 of Juke
I said nothing.
She rolled her eyes, disgust thick on her face. “You keep doing dumb shit, and you gone get yourself killed.”
“He took everything from me, Nessa! You forgot that?”
“He whooped your ass three years ago. That’s what the fuck happened. Move on.”
“He took my shine… my title… my respect.”
“No,” she shot back. “You lost all that the minute you started acting like the streets owed you something. Juke didn’t steal shit… you gave it away.”
Before I could snap back, the front door creaked open.
“Ain’t this a pretty picture. My babies in the same room. Somebody mark the fuckin’ calendar.” Our mama, Val, stumbled in, reeking of liquor and funk. Her wig was crooked, and her jeans were stained.
“You need to go lie down, Ma.” Janessa sighed.
“I need a drink,” she slurred. “And a ride to Joe’s. He said he misses me.”
“Joe don’t even like you,” I muttered.
“Still better than your sorry-ass daddy,” she snapped, then laughed like it was funny. “What’s this? A family reunion?”
Janessa ignored her, but I could see it… she was trying not to go off on our mama. The same way I was every time this woman showed up.
Mama turned to me. “You still mad at that Juke boy? Thought you two was friends. You were always following him around like a damn puppy.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ma,” I growled.
“There he go. My lil gangster.” She smiled slow. “Keep barking, baby. Maybe one day you’ll actually bite.” She laughed like the shit she just said was the funniest shit ever.
I walked out before I did something I’d regret and forgot she was my damn mama. Shit wasn’t always like this. Me and Juke were actually boys. You saw one; you saw the other… until shit changed. Juke had my back more times than I could count. We came up throwing hands in alleyways together before we ever stepped foot in a ring. So when he hit me with the truth that night… it cut deeper than any punch he ever threw.
“You moving too fuckin’ sloppy,” he said, voice low. “I’ain gone let you drag me down with you.”
I was leaning on the hood of my car, blunt half-burned in my hand. “The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”
“It means keep my name out that petty shit you got going on,” he snapped. “You out here robbing niggas, doing dumb shit, and telling muthafuckas they know better than to fuck with us? Nigga, who the fuck is us?”
“So you think you better than me now?” I laughed.
He stepped closer. “Nah, but I’m better than this shit.”
“You act like you ain’t never got yo’ hands dirty.”
He stared at me, jaw locked, but he didn’t say nothing. He looked disappointed… like I was beneath him now. That’s what broke me. It wasn’t even what he said… it was how he looked atme. Like I was just another lost nigga from the block… not his brother… not his day one.
“Oh, so you switching up now?” I growled.
He shook his head and stepped back. “Nah, I just ain’t tryna carry dead weight no more.”
I stepped to him. “Fuck you say?”
He didn’t flinch.
“I said I’ain carrying no fuckin’ dead weight,” he repeated before he walked off, leaving me standing there with my fists clenched.
That was the last night we spoke like brothers. After that, I stopped looking at him like family. He wasn’t my brother no more. He was competition… the opps.
