Page 3 of All The Smoke
We disconnected the call and I turned the music back up and vibed all the way to the arena. We parked in the VIP garage since we had floor seats and headed inside. I was impressed as wemade our way to our seats. I had been to a few of these games but hadn’t ever sat courtside. Niggas had decent seats, but I was stacking my bread and living too, so I didn’t blow too much of shit.
Sitting anywhere in this bitch was straight for me because I just came for the experience. I was, however, glad my son was experiencing the luxury shit at a young age though, because my parents damn sure didn’t bring me and Noah to do this shit. It could have been because they didn’t have the bread they have now back then, or hell, because they didn’t want to. Either way I was happy my son was there and a part of it.
“Bishop! Gigi!” Solo shouted, then darted in the direction of my parents who were already seated right behind the home bench.
My mother scooped him up and settled him in her lap and my father bumped fists with him. When I got over there, I took a seat in my assigned chair, leaving one of them open for Solo between us.
“Hello, Solomon,” my mother said and I tossed my head back.
“Solomon,” my father called out and Solo answered even though my parents called him SJ since he was my junior. “Not you, son.” He smiled at him then looked at me. “You didn’t hear your mother speak?”
“I spoke back.”
“Verbally.”
“Be glad I spoke, period,” I mumbled lowly. He knew I kept shit very minimal with them. The only two reasons we still spoke at all were off the strength of my brother making me promise to not shut them out and because my son loved them.
I was pissed at how they turned their backs on my brother after he got jammed up on some armed robbery bullshit. The police tried to frame him as the getaway driver, but I knewfucking better than that shit. My brother wasn’t on that. He was on the straight and narrow. He wasn’t soft or no shit like that, he was actually as thorough as they came. He just didn’t get caught up in no street shit. He had big plans for himself. He wanted to go into construction and start a troubled youth program and shit. He would never be on no stick up kid BS. I knew that, and deep down our folks did too, but they were so caught up in image and shit ever since Bishop got on at the megachurch.
They were so caught up in that shit that they turned their backs on their own son. Not me though. I loved my brother and no matter if he was innocent or guilty, I was gon’ ride with him. That was why I grinded as hard as I did in the streets and skipped out on sitting courtside on my dime. I was footing the bill for an attorney for him.
One of the ladies from the old church where Bishop was the pastor gave me some bigshot lawyer’s info from out of town. I retained him immediately and got him working on my brother’s case. I was vexed about the shit too because as much bread as I was spending with him he should have some fuckin’ results, but all I was getting was the runaround. He ain’t have long though before I pushed up on him.
Deciding to cut his losses, my father turned his attention back to Solo until he started to beg for snacks. I gave him some bread and let him and his grandfather grab some shit. I busied myself with my phone, but like I knew she would, my mother tried to start conversation with me.
“He looks cute but I wish you would cut his hair.”
“He like his shit like that.” I shrugged, referring to the lil curly fro my son liked to rock. I just kept it temped out and shaped up with my girl, Nyla.
“Solomon, your language.”
“Ma, this how I talk.” I sighed and shook my head. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to hear it. I prefer it actually.”
It was hard as fuck to fake the funk with them. I hated how they tried to fucking play my brother, but I at least came around because of that dumb ass promise.
“Okay, okay, I know you’re upset with your father and me, so how about this…” She turned more toward me in her seat. “How about you come to the church on Sunday and?—”
“Can’t,” I cut her off. “I gotta go see my brother.” I smirked. “You know, the other son you gave birth to but abandoned.”
“Solomon, that’s not fair,” she replied, trying to sound sad, but I wasn’t buying it. “We love Noah.”
“I can’t tell,” I mumbled. “But tell me… why was y’all so willing to accept my wrongdoings but not his? I got in way more shit when we were kids and I had a kid out of wedlock and mad young but y’all looked past all of that.”
She tore her eyes away from me briefly, likely trying to come up with whatever lie or excuse she could.
“Things with your brother were complicated. The timing of his situation just wasn’t right.”
“Word, so y’all sold ya own son out for a spot in a pulpit for Bishop?” I pointed to the direction he and my son walked in. “But y’all love him?”
“Baby, your brother?—”
I cut in again. “Is the only reason I even share space with y’all, Ma, and the only reason I let y’all fuck with my son. I was prepared to abandon y’all just like y’all did him, but he begged me not to because for whatever reason he still loves y’all, but not me. I don’t care about y’all just like y’all could give a fuck less about him. So instead of faking the funk in church tomorrow, you should go see him and thank him for all that and that I let you see Solo, aight?” I glared at her. “Now, my son coming back so let’s cut the communication and let him enjoy this game.”
I could see the tears well up at the brim of her eyes the same way they always did when I gave her ass the cold shoulder, but Iwasn’t moved. I tuned into the game with my son. I wasn’t with the fake ass shit and me and my brother were a mothafuckin’ package deal to everyone, including the people that gave us life. You ain’t get to have one without the other. Fuck that.
2
Kaori Randall.
