Lethal came over in his tux. “Bro, if she’s yours, it’s gon’ be cool. You have mom and us. Pops will be home next year. Shit, you better go ahead and lock down a chick, so she can play step mama.”
Lethal’s words made Brazil frown. He wasn’t going to get a girlfriend just so she could help him raise his child. If Kera had truly done what Block was accusing her of, he was going to side eye women more than he already did. If he did have a daughter, he’d have to figure shit out on his own. Getting with a woman, just so she could help him out didn’t seem like something he was interested in doing.
Once the measurements were taken, the men removed their tuxes and left the store. Brazil’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he removed it. Seeing that he had an email from the lab company that he took the DNA test at made him hold his breath. He opened the email and read over the words with a racing heart.
“She’s mine.” His tone was low, but his brothers heard him.
“Word?” Lethal asked with wide eyes. “Damn. So, what’s next?”
“I guess I have to wait for ole girl’s lawyer to reach out to me. She’s probably going to tell me to come get my daughter expeditiously. Man, I have a game in two days,” Brazil sighed. “Bro, what the fuck?”
Block shook his head. His brother wasn’t taking the news well at all, but there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. Unique had been proven to be his. Anything less than figuring this thing out was the wrong answer. He had a niece, and Brazil was a father. Damn.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Symphony pulledin front of her sister’s apartment and saw that her car was out front. For the past two days, she’d tried calling Monique, but she didn’t answer. A text message could have been sent, but Symphony wanted to look her sister in her face. She could get that addiction made people change but from the day Monique gave birth, she’d been an excellent mother. You didn’t just one day decide drugs were more important than your kids. Or did you?
Monique lived in a low-income area, but Symphony was never apprehensive about visiting. As long as the residents minded their business, she’d mind hers. The young guys holding down the block glanced her way, but they didn’t say anything. They looked to see what apartment she was going to. Symphony used her fist to knock on her sister’s door.
Monique answered almost two minutes later with a confused look on her face. There was a purple bonnet on her head, and she wore a pink robe that wasn’t tied, so most of her breasts were visible. Symphony wondered if her sister usually answered the door dressed like that.
“What are you doing here?” Monique slurred. She spoke slow and lazy as if she’d just woke up.
Stepping over the threshold, Symphony eyed her surroundings. Monique’s space was spotless. The living room smelled of weed and an ashtray filled with roaches sat on the table, but her place was decorated nice and very tidy. It annoyed Symphony that not only did Monique have money for pills, hair, nails, and lashes, but she also had money for weed but didn’t take care of her son.
“Mason’s birthday is coming up. He wants to go to the adventure park and ride go carts, do paintball, and all that stuff. I’m going to get him a cake and a few gifts and invite some of his friends. I came by to see if you wanted to come.”
“You want me to come watch all the stuff you and ma did for him and sit there knowing that I didn’t do anything?”
Symphony wanted real bad to have patience with her sister, but that victim shit pissed her off. “I want you to come spend time with your son on his birthday. I could spend a million dollars on him and though he’d appreciate it, I know he would be more excited over your presence than anything I could buy him. All he wants is for you to act like you care, Monique.”
“And I do care. I love my son more than anything in this world. He’s getting older, and I don’t want him picking up my bullshit. I want to keep it real with him and tell him not to be like me, but then I’m embarrassed. I really don’t know what to do.” Monique could barely keep her eyes open while she talked.
Symphony shook her head. “All I hear is excuse after excuse. You’re right, Mason is older. He knows what you do, Nique. It’s not a secret, and he still loves you anyway. All I’m asking is for you to come celebrate his birthday with him, and you act like I asked you to be an actual mother.”
“That’s that bullshit right there. That’s why I don’t come around. As soon as y’all get mad you want to throw some shit in my face.”
Symphony threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’m done. I tried. You can keep disappointing your son and letting him down. If you want to live with that guilt, be my guest. You have that victim mentality down pact, and it’s actually sickening. The only victim here is Mason.”
Symphony stormed from the apartment angry with herself for letting Monique get under her skin. She knew inviting her was a reach anyway, but she wanted to extend the invitation. No one was angry with Monique. As long as she didn’t bring any harm to Mason, they wanted her in his life. It was better than walking around like he didn’t exist. Monique just wasn’t ready and no matter how bad it hurt, they just had to accept it.
The next day, Block followed the nurse into the exam room after taking an x-ray. He was back at his follow up appointment to make sure the pneumonia was gone. Two days before he went to the doctor, he was miserable. He would cough until he damn near threw up and walking just a few feet would make his breathing labored. Block was so sick, he went five days without smoking weed, and that hadn’t happened since the age of fifteen when he’d smoked his first blunt. All of the medication that Dr. Simmons prescribed him had him feeling better after about twelve hours.
Block was a street nigga through and through, but he didn’t play about his health. He knew grown men that only went to the free clinic if they were burning or scared they might be burning. Overall, he was pretty healthy. Before getting pneumonia, he hadn’t been sick since he was in his early twenties, but getting yearly physicals was a must. Blood work, the whole nine. Despitethe fact that he didn’t have unprotected sex often, he still got tested for all STD’s twice a year.
Block sat on the table and glanced around the room. He knew all kinds of professional women, but he didn’t know any doctors. Shit, he didn’tknowDr. Simmons. She was fine as fuck though. The day she treated him, the moment he saw her walk into the room, Block knew he’d more than likely have to end up leaving because he didn’t feel good and as soon as she gave him attitude, he was cursing her out. But shorty was soft. Professional. Real demure and shit. The way she smelled. The way she handled him with care. It had his dick hard, sick and all. She was sexy when she was mad, but when she was being lady like and feminine and shit, he could see himself giving her anything she wanted.
Confidence was something Block never lacked. However, shorty looked like she had her head on straight. Played by the rules and shit. What would a doctor want with a dope boy? Asking her out on a date had crossed his mind, but he doubted she would agree to go out with him. Even if she didn’t know that he sold drugs, his lifestyle wasn’t one that aligned with a doctor’s. There was a light tap on the door before it opened slowly. When Dr. Simmons came into view, all the things he’d been thinking went out of the window. He had to try. If she said no fuck it. A genuine smile lifted her cheeks.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Thornton. The first order of business is to ask you how you’re feeling. And also, I have to say thank you for the roses. They are gorgeous.”
Shorty was around sick people all day, so it made sense to him that she didn’t have on strong perfume that dominated the air when she entered the room. But the closer she got to him, he smelled vanilla. Maybe a hint of coconut. It was so subtle, but it was there. She was wearing a simple knee length black dress that fit her frame but wasn’t excessively tight. She wore a red blazer over it, and on her feet, she wore ballerina type flats. The Guccishoes looked like they were made out of wool. Simple. But fly. Yeah, he liked her style.
“It’s no problem.” He addressed the flowers first. “Our first encounter didn’t go well, but I appreciate you not bringing that into the room with you on the day that you saw me. I was sick and when I’m sick, I have the temperament of a rattle snake.”
“Oh,” Symphony’s brows rose. “You were sick the first time we met too?”
Her joke made Block chuckle. “Nah. Not at all.” The way his eyes roamed over her body made Symphony blush. “I feel good though. I stopped coughing a few days after I started the medication, and I finally got my energy back.”
