“Close my damn door, boy!” she yelled from the kitchen. “Heat cost money!”
I kicked it shut and flipped the lock. “Nice to see you too, Zah.”
She popped her head out the doorway, curls in a puff, towel over her shoulder. “You late. Late people wash dishes.”
“I’m the guest of honor,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Boy, please. Bring ya ass on.”
The living room was cozy as hell. They had a medium-height tree in the corner, branches loaded with Santas, glitter stars, and an angel leaning to the left. Old-school R&B Christmas musicplayed low, and I smiled at the Temptations singing “Silent Night.” Nothing announced Christmas in a Black household quite like the Temps.
Truth was stretched out on the couch with a plate already in his hand. Zahara had a soft spot for him, always let his ass dig in before the rest of us. His sister Honesty sat on the floor with my niece Zoriah, helping her glue candy to a gingerbread house on the coffee table. Loyalty, Truth and Honesty’s brother, was near the TV, controller in hand, arguing with the game.
“I told you not to start ’til I got here,” I said.
He glanced over his shoulder. “And I told you be on time. Look at both of us not listening.”
Braeden came out the hallway in an apron that said, “Kiss the Cook If You’re Brave,” carrying a hot pan.
“Look who finally made it. Our tragic hero,” he said.
“Don’t worry about me. Just know if that mac not right, I’m telling Aunt Tamika,” I warned.
“Please do. She the one taught me. Can’t wait to hear how she cussed you.”
His sister Akeira walked out carrying something covered in foil. “Jabali, you be so out of touch, you forgot I’m the chef? You know damn well he had help!”
Her husband Ajani stepped out behind her, wiping his hands. He gave me a chin lift. “What’s up, Jay?”
“Cooling,” I said, dropping into the armchair. “House smell good.”
“Thank you,” all three of them said at the same time.
Zahara came in, folded her arms, and leaned on the arm of my chair. “A’ight,” she said. “We got food, we got music, we got Jesus birthday lights in the window. Go ahead and tell us how Ms. Kyleigh Grindley dragged you down that long driveway.”
The room went just a touch quieter.
I stared at the lights outside for a second, then exhaled. “Y’all ain’t even gon’ let me get a roll first?”
Honesty did not look up from the gingerbread. “Nope.”
Truth smirked. “You walked in here knowing what time it was.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. That frosted glass door flashed in my head and her voice, all cool and flat.
“It was rough. Soon as she came to the door, I said, ‘Hey, Ky,’ and she hit me with, ‘It’s Ms. Grindley,’” I admitted.
“Ooh. Yeah, she still mad, mad,” Zahara said.
Loyalty paused his game. “That’s the ‘I’m not yo’ little friend’ level right there.”
I shook my head. “Shiii. That was just the warm-up. She let me know that was her home, not an office, and you do not make appointments at people houses. Corrected me on boundaries like she was gon’ give a pop quiz later.”
Braeden tried to hide his grin. “You ain’t used to that.”
“At all,” I said. “I ain’t argue. I told her I came on behalf of the mayor, asked her to reconsider letting the town use the pines. She told me no. Shorty was calm, polite, used her legal words and all that, but still no.”
Honesty nodded. “Of course, she did.”
