Page 11 of Girl, We Go Together
“He must not be around or something,” she stated.
“Nope, he got me settled in and then ran out to get me and Mello some food. He said he had a move to make, so he might be a while.”
“Mmm,” Zynea grumbled with discontent. I could hear the mental knobs turning in her head.
“Mm, what?”
“Hopefully his ass ain’t going to check on his bitch or something.”
The thought did cross my mind, but I was trying to stay on the positive side of things.
“Hopefully not,” I responded in a low tone.
A piece of me prayed he wasn’t. Ever since this extra weight started sticking to me, I wasn’t really the kind of girl who pulled men who looked the way he did. I wasn’t ugly at all in the face; it’s just that I felt insecure about the number that looked back at me whenever I stood on a scale.
“Well,” she added cheerfulness to her voice before changing the subject, “how is it in there?”
“Girl, it smells good in here, looks good. This place ain’t got no roaches or nothing,” I jokingly said.
Slowly, I turned over on my side that wasn’t injured to get comfortable. The thigh to the leg that I was shot in was still sore because of how I hit the ground. For a while, we sat on the phone catching up. And when we were done with that, we spoke about nothing at all. Zynea was hanging out in her hotel room, and that gave us all the time to chat. I giggled on the phone with my bestfriend while I flipped through TV shows, waiting patiently for Orion to return.
Chapter 4
Orion
“Here this nigga goes.”
My brother, Omari, started clapping once I entered my mother’s house. She had been calling me all week, but her last text, threatening me to show my face before she whooped my ass, is what got me to come over. At this big age, I still feared my mother. Olivia never played when she sent a threat. Growing up, I saw her knock bitches out and all. When she told you she was gonna harm you, she meant that shit. And she had the memory of an elephant, so she didn’t forget a damn thing.
“Man, shut up,” I said as I walked past him, sitting on the couch, and headed for the kitchen.
Omari was two years younger than me. When I packed up and left the streets, I tried to drag him with me down the road to legitimacy, but his hot-headed ass declined. Instead of following in the footsteps of his big brother, he wanted to follow in the footsteps of my childhood best friend.
Fabian made the street life look like second nature to him; he always had. The lifestyle was always easy when you weren’t the muthafucka running shit. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and back in my day, I felt the stress of it all. I sighed because I could feel Omari walking right behind me. He lovedto see drama unfold when it came to me and our mother. His drama-filled ass had been that way since he was a kid.
“Mama,” he called out, “the son you love least finally decided to show his face.”
I turned around and screwed my face up at him.
“Nigga, I’m first, that means I’m always gonna be her favorite.”
I turned back around, right into a smooth ear twist. My mom was stealth on her feet because I didn’t even hear her move away from the stove.
“I've been calling your trifling ass since I saw they shot your club up.”
“Ma, wait. Ouch!” She had a good grip on my ear and was twisting the fuck out of it.
“Yeah, get him, Ma,” Omari cheered on.
“I was figuring things out. Damn, you wanna let me go now?” I pleaded.
“No, the fuck I do not.” She dug her nail into my ear and twisted harder. “You had me stressed the fuck out.”
“You’re stressing out our mama. Her hair already little,” Omari said, which made me bust out laughing when I looked down at my mom’s head.
She called herself trying to get the short Halle Berry cut a few months ago, and although she was very pretty, she was too damn lazy for a hairstyle like that. So, she never got it done. When she actually took the time out to go to the salon, the style was really pretty on her. But on most days, she would wash it and walk out the door or wear it slicked straight back.
“Boy, shut the fuck up,” she spat at Omari before letting me go.
