I exhaled through my nose, trying to pretend like I was uninterested in what he was saying.
“Pride doesn’t pay bills. And it damn sure doesn’t feed your peace.”
He was right. I’d spent my entire life trying to figure out everything on my own. Maybe it was okay to accept help. I couldn’t end up in a worse position than where I had gotten myself.
“Be at the shop Monday morning, seven sharp. It’s not a record-label paycheck, but it’s clean money, steady, with benefits. Forty-five starting, if you show up. Sixty if you lead. It’s hard work. You earn every penny, no handouts. Don’t come in smellin’ like ego.”
“That’s your way of askin’ nicely?” I asked.
“That was nice.” He started walking away like the conversation was finished. And maybe it was. I stared at him. There was something about the way he carried himself. He was solid, unbothered. He wasn’t doing a bunch of flexing. I fucked with it. I could see why Jess liked him.
“Aye,” I said before he got too far. “You alright, man. Real talk. You a good fit for Jess.”
He didn’t respond, just nodded like he already knew that, like he didn’t need to prove shit to anybody. I respected it.
“You hungry? Yo’ sister had us in the kitchen all damn night, whipping up yo’ favorites,” Ron said as he headed toward the table where the food was.
“Hell yeah.” I followed behind him with Nyla still tucked in my arms. My stomach was growling. It’d been seven years since I tasted my sister’s cooking.
“So, Unc, I can take the Challenger for a spin later, right?” Zy called out from the couch, and I stopped in my tracks.
“You real bold, Nephew.”
“So that’s a yes?” he asked happily.
“That’s amaybe.”
“He’s been asking about that car all week. Don’t hype him up. He does not have a license.”
“I got a permit, though!” Zy shouted, pleading his case.
“Get you somethin’ to eat,” Jess said, trying to take Nyla from my hands. “Give me Nyla.”
I swatted her hand away. “Nope. I got her. Move.”
“Don’t come up in here spoilin’ her,” she fussed.
“Too late.” I continued over to the food. Jess really had cooked all my favorites. There was barbecued chicken, spaghetti, green beans, and sweet potatoes. My mouth was already watering. I fixed my plate with one hand and balanced Nyla in the other. Soaking in the scene, I couldn’t have asked for a better first day at home. No cameras. No fans. No first day out single.No industry sharks fishing for a comeback. Just my family, the real ones who never left when the music stopped.
“Alright, so who’s losin’ to me in Spades?” Zy asked, slapping a deck of cards on the table.
“And he talks trash now, too?” I said, smirking. “What you know about Spades, Nephew?”
“I know I’m better than you at it.”
“I think I created a monster.” Ron laughed.
I shook my head, sliding into a seat with my plate. Nyla babbled on my lap and reached for my spaghetti. This was it, the start of my second chance.
Three loud knocksshook my front door and my peace, making me drop my paintbrush onto the tray.
“Who the hell?” I whispered, my heartbeat climbing like it always did when I was home alone and wasn’t expecting company. Teagan was off today. Between her nursing rotations and three-hour pharmacology labs, Teagan barely had time to eat let alone babysit my flare-ups, but she still managed. Today, she had an exam, so I was on my own. I backed away from my canvas, grabbing my can of pepper spray just as the pounding sounded again.Who the hell bangs on a disabled woman’s door like the cops?
I rolled toward the door, gripping my wheels tight, mentally preparing to curse someone smooth out. If they caught a blastof pepper spray in the face, then that was on them. I craned my neck to peek through the narrow side window since trying to reach the peephole was useless from my chair. Immediately, a tall man appeared. He was standing on my porch in a black hoodie, cargo pants, and boots. His skin looked like desert sand under the sunlight, and a small gold stud sparkled in one ear. His afro was trimmed neatly and freshly sponged. I gazed at him, confused. What was this fine man doing on my doorstep? I read his hoodie. Northside Rebuild went across it in bold, white letters.
I froze. It had been several weeks since Teagan had applied, and I hadn’t even gotten confirmation that they had accepted me into the program. Now, some man, looking like he walked out of a J. Cole music video, was standing on my doorstep with a clipboard.
“Can I help you?” I sucked in a breath, cracking the door open just two inches.
