“I do. That was the other thing, going to Europe and going down the fast lane, driving on the opposite side of the car. Shit sounded crazy.”
“But you want to try it anyway?” Giselle guessed.
“Hell yeah,” Heavy agreed, making her laugh sleepily. “You, Heir, and Harlee coming with me.”
“You promise?” Giselle whispered.
“Aye.” Heavy held out his two fingers.
Giselle looked at them, then back into his eyes before raising her two and tapping them twice against his. He pressed the palm of his hand against hers and intertwined their fingers. Resting a hand against her thigh, he allowed his head to fall onto the couch pillows. Between the party and dealing with Alonzo, he was exhausted, and falling asleep with her like this was the perfect way to end this night.
NINETEEN
FORTUNATE
The next day…
“Oh, shit. Y’all got a dunk tank this year?” Viggo dropped a case of water near a bunch of coolers.
Although it was late May, the sun was cooking, but there was a cool breeze since it was still before noon. Remi rallied everyone together before 11:00 a.m., to make sure they had their assignments. Prischa and Henna stood beside the tank chatting, both in cutoff shorts and bathing suit tops. A water hose from old man Jefferson’s house was connected and slowly filling it with water. After last night with Giselle, Prischa purposely kept her distance from everyone.
She felt better knowing that Viggo had a real emergency and that was why he left her hanging. At the same time, she knew she was acting like a bitter baby mama after her conversation with Giselle on the way home. She didn’t know why she was still in her feelings about the situation when things were going well with Viggo. Surprisingly, he was a lot more thoughtful and attentive than she knew. She hated comparing the two, but there was a big difference in how he handled her versus Heavy. She always feltlike she was intruding with him or forcing her and Pierre into his space. His interactions with Giselle and the twins was so organic that it did leave her harboring jealousy.
“Yup.” Prischa simpered and turned to Henna with a laugh.
Rubbing his hands together with mischief in his eyes, Viggo bypassed Giselle standing at the table near where the food was set up, helping Remi, Lou, and Gem unpack. In four hours people would start arriving, and Horace debated with Toussaint in the corner about their grill situation. The two decided to have a cookoff and had selected judges and everything. Toussaint argued that he had surpassed his father with the grilling skills, but Horace insisted he’d learned everything from him anyway.
“Who we dunking?” Viggo licked his juicy lips and grinned, flashing his diamond grill.
“Take a guess,” Henna threw out there.
“Horace?”
“Nigga, please!” his grandfather objected as Heavy strolled over with Harlee on his shoulders.
Heir strutted beside him in khaki cargo shorts, an orange tank top, and matching green Cloudnova 2 sneakers. Giselle looked up from her duties and grinned when she spotted her man approaching with their kids. She let them sleep in when Maisie came and swooped her up this morning, so she’d missed them. The three matched in their orange and khaki, but Harlee’s hair was all over her head with just a headband with a bow attached. At least he tried, and she probably fought him on anything else.
“Toussaint, I know you ain’t getting your cool ass in there.” Viggo pulled the black t-shirt he’d been rocking over his head.
Flexing his muscular arms in his wife beater, he pulled the blunt he’d rolled from behind his ear.
“Nah, muhfucka, that’s all you.” Heavy’s Pops aimed his grilling tongs at him.
Viggo stopped in the middle of lighting his blunt and took in all the peering eyes on him.
“Y’all got me fucked up!”
“Come on!” Prischa jested. “It’s five dollars for three pitches, and all the proceeds are going to the trip for the kids to Victory Park at the youth center this summer.”
“How about I just pay for them muhfuckas to go?” Viggo suggested, bringing the blunt between his lips and sparking it.
“Can you be a good sport? Please?” she pouted, moving closer to him seductively.
His blazing cocoa brown eyes danced over her frame, and his dick swelled, thinking about fucking her guts up again. Lately, he’d been falling asleep and waking up in that good thang and had no complaints. Prischa was easy to be with. She didn’t do the drama; she went to work and came home. Occasionally, she and Henna would hit the streets, but she was a good girl. Lady in the streets and freak in the sheets was reserved for bad bitches like her. Viggo had no complaints.
“Don’t be coming over here, throwing that shit, mama. Why a nigga always gotta be the scapegoat around this muhfucka?” he announced, looking around at the rest of his people.
“You always the one talking the most shit.” Heavy chewed on a carrot off the vegetable tray and grabbed Harlee, so he could set her on the ground.
