Page 142 of Anything Necessary for Her
“I apologize for that. I didn’t want that going down between y’all. She’s remorseful as well.” I spoke in between bites.
“It’s alright.” She chewed on her food, staring straight ahead for a moment. “I shouldn’t have hit you with an ashtray or period, but I do wonder how you can carry on with a girlthat punched your mother, Willow.” She resumed eating. “Any woman you are with should have respect for me.”
“I agree, they should, but Banks did what she did in response to what you did, so the blame ain’t all on her.”
Whitney scoffed, dropping her fork and craning her body some so she could look me in the eyes fully.
“I am your mother, Willow, and she shouldn’t involve herself in things that happen between us, no matter what the hell it is.”
“She love me.” I shrugged, not trying to brag, just stating facts. “She can’t see shit like that and not react. I’m the same way ’bout her. You think I’d sit back and watch her father slap the shit out of her?”
“Oh, so she is the only one who loves you? I don’t love you?” Her brows kissed her hairline.
“I don’t know. Do you?” I truly wanted to know. “It ain’t ever seemed like it. Last time you made me a meal or even wondered if I ate, I was in fourth grade.”
When she rolled her eyes, balling her mouth and shaking her head in the process, I knew this fake ass kumbaya Whitney was gone.
“You honestly believe that some pretty, rich, spoiled girl loves you? She dances ballet for God sakes.” She laughed mirthlessly.
“So does Wave.”
“Yeah, in a cute little class! That spoiled ass girl dances professionally! You are a fetish to her, Low. She’s a good girl who has never been around a drug dealer, so she finds it exciting and cute!” she ranted, having absolutely no fucking idea what she was talking about.
Banks had not only been around drug dealers, but she’d come from the loins of one and shared sibling blood with two others.
“Aight.” I’d lost the appetite I’d barely had, scooting back from the table.
“Once she gets the life she wants, Low, you’re gonna be too beneath her for her to stick with you. Then what? You’ll have betrayed your own mother for a woman who will file a restraining order on you in just a few years.” She stabbed a fork into her broccoli while shaking her head.
“You don’t know shit about Banks St. Thomas or where she come from.” I rose.
“I don’t need to in order to recognize a rich bitch with a fetish for hood niggas just to use ’em up until she meets an NBA player or a lawyer, which is what she’ll want for a husband.”
“Well, I guess I’m gon’ have to find out the hard way, ’cause I ain’t letting her go,” I said, knowing that would piss her ass off. It was true, regardless of that fact though.
She wanted to see me affected by her words, and unfortunately for her, she was so off fucking base that her verbal assaults weren’t landing like usual.
“You—”
“I love her.” I cut in. “She make a nigga feel like somebody just from the way she look at me. The first woman to ever make me wanna be right and do right. Everything I do as of late is for Wave, Wyatt, and her.”
“Get out!” she bellowed, chest heaving and face contorted into a deep glare.
“This my muthafuckin’ crib, so you get the fuck out. And if I did leave, I’m taking my siblings with me.”
Whitney jumped to her feet and reached to grab the pan she’d baked the broccolini in, in effort to strike me.
“Do it, and I’ll have Banks come back specifically to dog walk yo’ ass,” I threatened, staring down into her face. Her body quickly morphed from rigid to relaxed as she woodenly placed the baking pan back on top of the stove. “Clean up this fuckingkitchen.” I started for the mouth of the kitchen, leading to the living room. “Oh, and do one more thing, and I won’t have any qualms about throwing yo’ ass out onto the street, Whitney.”
I left, checking the time on my phone to see it’d be time to pick Waverley up from class soon, and I’d also be getting a peek of my favorite lady. I needed the latter badly like my mama needed that fucking bottle.
“Calm down, Peep. It’s gon’ be straight,” I said, throwing my shit in park outside of the St. Thomas’ crib.
This afternoon, her brothers and I were supposed to either hash this shit out or continue the battle. I was cool with either, personally, but for my woman’s mental and her own sake, I wanted shit to at least be cordial.
Banks was unhappy being estranged from them niggas—as she should be—and I didn’t like that. So if I could have a hand in fixing anything that caused her distress, I would do everything in my power. However, it wasn’t just me. Them niggas would have to meet a nigga halfway for shit to work.
“I know. I know.” She nodded as I stepped out the whip and rounded the front to assist her out of the passenger side.
