“Now, who could that be?” she muttered to herself.
“I’ll get it.” Horace marched over to the back door, turned the lock, and yanked it open. “Oh, now, what the hell!” he exclaimed, ready to slam the door in Milani’s face.
“Excuse you, Horace!” Heavy and Henna’s mother slammed the palm of her hand against the door and shoved it back.
“Who the hell invited Mommie Dearest?” Horace called over his shoulder.
He and Milani struggled with the door, but she was younger and in better shape than she’d ever been, so she was able to nudge him back so she could enter. Her sandy brown hair hung in a blunt cut shoulder length bob. Normally, her skin was ashen, like she was near death, but tonight she had a glow and wore a natural beat. In a pair of black slacks with a white blouse and black vest over it, her three-inch heels clicked against the tile as she entered the kitchen.
“Mommy, what are you doing here?” Henna queried, not as surprised as everyone else was to see her.
“It’s Sunday, and I know y’all have dinner around these parts. I’m starving.” Milani moved past Horace and set her purse on the table.
Heavy stood stiff, eyes drinking in the put together woman in front of him. He was used to his mother having a sunken face and dark eyes with big bags drooping underneath them. Her usually matted her was smooth in a silk press and looked as healthy as she did. Instead of a dull glare, there was this bright glint that he recognized in her from when he was a child.
“I told you I would bring you something later tonight. Why did you come here?” Henna shut her eyes, clearly frustrated.
“Because I’m family, damnit!” Milani’s hands rested on her hips. “You told me that Heavy and his kids were here. I’m their grandma, and I want to meet them.”
“You’ve been talking to her?” Heavy turned his rage onto his sister.
“I’m her mother. What you all tight about right now? What, is she supposed to shut me out because you did?” Milani questioned.
“Oh, he’s not mad at you. He’s mad at me because I called out his baby mama on her bullshit, and he can’t handle the truth,” Henna emphasized.
Heavy’s quick strides toward her sent Henna backing up until she was pressed between nothing but him and the wall.
“This the last time I’m talking to you about this,” Heavy warned, aiming a finger in her face. “If you can’t respect her or her role as their mother, then you can stay the fuck away from me and my kids. You don’t even get to talk about her, or that’s your ass, Henna.”
She blinked back tears and scoffed, not one to ever back down, not even against him.
“Don’t worry. When she turns into that bitch I know she is, you will eat those words.”
When Heavy lunged for her, Toussaint stepped in. He pressed a hand against his chest and could feel the pulse of his son’s heart racing while searching his unusually dark eyes.
“Fall back,” Toussaint insisted, and Heavy knocked his hand away.
“You want to talk about her when you harboring the woman that abandoned us like she’s some fucking saint! Fuck you, Henna!” Heavy spat.
“Come on, bro.” Viggo stepped up.
Heavy turned, submerged in full blown rage when he snatched him up and slammed him into the nearest wall.
“The fuck you say?” he growled, holding two fistfuls of Viggo’s shirt as he brought his face closer to his.
“You tripping!”
“Heavy, let him go!” Petal ordered.
“From now on, all you muhfuckas stay the fuck from around me!” he hissed, pushing himself off Viggo and releasing him from his firm hold.
“You don’t mean that—” Petal spoke up.
“I stand on it!” Heavy assured her before stomping out of the kitchen.
The front door slammed so hard behind him that Petal, Henna, and Prischa all flinched. It even rattled the pictures on the walls in the hallway. Shaking her head, their grandmother opened a lower cabinet to store the skillet she dried, and Horace leaned against the counter beside her.
“I swear, y’all worse than the damn family onSoul Food.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Viggo, roll up!”
