Zoya looked up from her phone. “Answer the question.”
“Goo! I thought that was you,” my mother hollered from across the street. “Come here, Carmen is back from Trinidad.”
She waved me over.
Carmen had moved to Trinidad and came back and forth; it had been a while since she had been back. Carmen and her girls used to live on the bottom floor of our old apartment building.
She was connected to the Brooklyn Reapers, her late husband, being the head. Now, Bia was the head with her sisters riding right behind her.
I pulled Zoya behind me as she tried her hardest to stay rooted on the curb near the car. After realizing she wasn’t getting anywhere, she allowed me to pull her behind me. When I came over toward them, all her friends were seated on the stoop.
Some smoking cigarettes and eating whatever food one of them cooked. “Si mi pickney—nuh so likkle again.” She held me around the waist, pulling me closer to her, as I placed a kiss on top of her head.
Whenever she was around her friends, my aunt, or went back home, her accent always came out full blown. I could remember getting in trouble, and once that accent came out thicker, I knew to sit my dumb ass down and not to try her.
“You raised such good boys… Gerald, how you doing?” Carmen’s New York accent mixed with her Trinidadian accent was thick, as she took a pull of her cigarette.
“I’m good, Carmen… welcome back,” I came over and gave her a quick hug.
My mother looked over at Zoya, who stood there with her hands in those damn pockets again. “Ms. Lawyer, eh?”
Zoya smiled. “He talks about me, huh?”
“Yes, very much. I finally get the chance to meet the woman that has my son going to war about aunt flo.”
Zoya removed her hands from her pocket and covered her face. “Gerald, Jesus.”
I shrugged. “Anybody cause my baby pain, got smoke with me.”
She ignored me, as I walked back over toward her. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Paulette.”
My mom smiled. “Call me Sharon.”
“Ms. Sharon.”
With the way my mother smiled, I could tell she approved. “I was heading back home; I can put something on for us.”
“Sharon, we going out of town. I came to check on my favorite lady before going away for the weekend.”
My mother swatted me as her friends laughed. “That boy still knows how to get up under that armor of yours.” Carmen chuckled, flicking her cigarette away.
After shooting the breeze with her friends for a few minutes, we ended up walking her down the block toward the apartment. “Make sure you come back around, Zoya.”
“I don’t know, Ms. Sharon. Your son has other prospects that he might introduce you to.”
For somebody to be so damn shy on meeting my mother, her ass wasn’t acting like it. My mother raised her brow. “Yuh a play games, Gerald?”
“Yuh a liad,” I kissed my teeth and looked at Zoya, who was smirking in bliss because my moms was about to get on me.
“How else is those babies supposed to happen?” She winked at Zoya, who blushed.
I knew if we went inside, we would never leave, and I wasn’t trying to hit traffic. As I watched my mother use the ramp to get inside, she stopped and looked across the street. I touched my gun and turned to look.
Inez slammed the car door and walked across the street. I could tell she was high from the way she was walking. The black Maserati pulled off, not even waiting for her to make it across the street.
“Is everything alright?” Zoya’s voice brought me out of the shame and anger I felt when I looked at my cousin.
“Goo, you home for the weekend?” Her voice was weaker, like she wasn’t even trying to form the correct words or wanting to make sense.”
