Page 52 of All The Smoke
“I got it, Smoke.” I chuckled, low key annoyed. “Trust me.”
“Kaori…” He cuffed my chin. “I don’t fuck with Bri.” I tried pulling away but he wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You thinking that shit though.” He sighed.
“It’s none of my business if you do.”
“I know, but I want you to know I don’t. I don’t fuck with nobody.”
“If you did, there would be nothing I could do about it.” I shrugged and he got silent for a minute.
“Can I take you out?” he asked. “Like to get food or some shit.”
My eyes stretched. “Like on a date?”
He nodded. “Diablo’s or Palmer’s, or hell, wherever you want to go.”
“You don’t have to take me out because you’re trying to prove to me you don’t mess with your other baby mama, Smoke.”
“Solomon,” he corrected. “And I know that. I want to take you out because you fine as fuck, cool as hell, and pregnant with my baby.”
I smiled and blushed. “Fine, but I want to go to Mr. Chow’s. I’ve been craving dim sum.”
He frowned. “Craving what?”
“Dim sum.” I smiled. “It’s like little dumplings.”
“Don’t be feeding my baby no bullshit, bro.”
“I’m only getting it to satisfy my tastebuds,” I replied. “I probably won’t keep it down long.”
The thought of that made me sad. I always craved all the good stuff and when I got it, it came right back up. The peach cobbler and butter pecan ice cream I ate as a late night snack didn’t make it thirty minutes. My fried pickles from the day before were a complete waste too.
“Are you crying?” He leaned in to get a better look at my face. “Kaori, what the fuck?”
“I just… I just…” I began to bawl after not being able to get my full sentence out. The baby had me acting real unusual because I wasn’t really a crier. I cried the last time I went to jail and when I caught Jamal’s cheating ass with that girl, but other than that, I didn’t cry. I only had those times because I was pissed at myself. I didn’t even cry when my daddy went to jail.
He would have been disappointed if I had because he didn’t raise me to show anyone when I was bothered. It was cool to express my emotions, but in private. That was why when I started flipping about Jamal he and my mother were so disappointed. They definitely taught me differently and better than that.
“Sorry.” I sniffled, drying my tears with the back of my hand.
“You good,” he replied, still rubbing my back. “What’s wrong with you?”
I shrugged. “I was just thinking about the food I’m probably going to throw up later.”
His motions stopped as he glared at me. It wasn’t a menacing glare, more of a “are you serious” kind of look.
“Bruh…”
“I’m sorry,” I whined. “You don’t know how it feels to want something so bad only to get it temporarily and have it taken right back.”
“Naw, but I do.” He shook his head.
Glancing up at him, I tried again to read his expression.
Was he talking about me?
