Meech finally sat, but his body was coiled with tension. “This ain’t over,” he muttered.
“Your son is waiting,” I reminded him.
Meech turned back to Yusef,attempting what I guess he thought was a fatherly tone. “So, chess, huh? You must be smart.”
“I guess,” Yusef mumbled, still looking uncomfortable.
“That’s good. Real good, I guess. You keep that up.” Meech nodded like he’d just imparted some profound wisdom. “But you also need to learn how to handle yourself. Can’t be walking around getting jumped and shit.”
“I’mma teaching him boxing,” I said.
Meech’s head snapped toward me. “You’re what?”
“Boxing. Self-defense.”
“Nobody asked you to do that.”
“Your son did. And his mother agreed.”
“His mother.” Meech’s jaw worked. “Zahara always did like bringing random niggas around my kid.”
I felt my temperature rise. “Watch yourself.”
“Or what? You gonna do something in here?” Meech smirked, looking around at the guards. “Go ahead. Try it.”
“I don’t need to do anything. You’re already doing a great job of showing your son exactly who you are.”
“Man, fuck you. You don’t know me.”
“I know enough. I know you’ve been locked up for ten years for distribution and robbery. I know you’re in here, worried about Zahara instead of getting to know your son. I know you’re calling chess and piano ‘soft shit’ when your kid is gifted. And where did all that hard shit land you? Right here.”
“Gifted,” Meech scoffed. “He needs to be gifted at throwing hands, not playing no damn piano.”
“Dad,” Yusef said quietly, and something about hearing that word from him—Dad—directed at this clown made my blood boil.
“What, son?” Meech turned to him, his voice softening slightly.
“I like piano. And chess. I’m good at them.”
“I’m sure you are, but?—”
“And Mom works really hard. She’s at her job all day and then she bakes at night for her business. She’s trying.”
Meech waved his hand dismissively. “Your mama always been good at hustling. I’ll give her that. But she should’ve brought you to see me before now. I’ve been asking for years.”
“You’ve been asking?” I interjected. “Or demanding through intermediaries?”
“Man, who even are you?” Meech leaned forward. “Seriously. Are you fucking Zahara or something? Is that why you all in your feelings right now?”
Yusef’s eyes went wide.
“Watch your mouth,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous level. “There’s a child present. Your child.”
“Answer the question. You hitting that?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is if you’re around my son. I don’t need some random nigga playing daddy to my kid.”
