“Anyway, I have an itinerary. Alumni kickback is tonight we can go and kick it then have our own shit at the house,” Donnée shared.
“That’s cool with me. I have a hard out at nine though,” Emani replied, looking over the seat and catching Jahlil’s eyes. They locked for a moment before she turned away.
“Don’t tell me you brought that nigga with you,” Kyrie grumbled.
“She knows better,” Jahlil returned.
“I was looking forward to watching him ruffle Jahlil’s feathers,” Ashton spoke, making Emani roll her eyes.
“He’s on a trip with his mother,” Emani shared before her phone chimed with a text from Joanna.
Jo: hey boo. Listen, Malachi is sick. Sandi is at the house setting everything up and I’ve sent the photos to Derrick. I know you’re going to kill it! Love ya!
Emani sucked in a deep breath. “You know, the trouble with hiring friends is they think they’re irreplaceable.”
Carson hummed. “I told you to let her go when she was crying over that hospital bill the first time. You can’t be charity and an employee and a friend. You give too damn much.”
“Anyway,” Kyrie grunted, waving Ashton off. “Where you got to be at nine, E?”
“I got a house a couple doors down. Got rehearsals in the morning and an interview with the mass communications department.”
Jahlil’s face frowned, the question coming out before he could stop himself. “Who’s staying with you?”
He knew she didn’t like sleeping alone and Carson hadn’t mentioned staying with her or anyone else.
“Relax, dad,” Donnée teased Jahlil. “I’m staying with her.”
“Does that make you feel better or are you going to say fuck her nigga and stand guard at her door?” Ashton asked before receiving a mush to the face by Jahlil’s massive hand.
“Leave me alone, stubby.”
Ashton, flailing his arms and legs, fell out of the leather-tufted seat. “When I get back up, I’m whooping your ass.”
“Be careful,” Kyrie started. “That’s a long climb even for you.”
Off the Sprinter, The Crew filed into the main house designated for the group. Donnée had a chef come by and prepare lunch for them. Ashton helped himself to the bar and started handing out shots while Emani opted to eat. Sandwiched between Carson, who was putting food on her plate and Donnée, Emani chewed on the inside of her lip.
“Why are you doing that?” Donnée posed. “What’s on your mind?”
“Not really mind, more like my gut. Something isn’t adding up,” Emani muttered returning to twisting her ring around her finger. “Joanna isn’t coming. She’s handed everything over to Derrick. Apparently Malachi is sick but when he facetimed me by accident this morning, he seemed fine.”
“You know with kids anything can happen,” Donnée spoke. “Isn’t that right, Jahlil?”
“What?” he questioned from behind her, acting as though he wasn’t listening. Emani could sigh a hundred feet away from him and he’d hear it. The same with her.
“Kids. Anything can happen with them. One minute they’re cool, next minute they’re sick,” Donnée said, trying to find something to ease Emani’s overthinking.
“I mean yeah. But if you pay attention, you know when they’re about to get sick. They slow down just a little bit,” Jahlil replied. Emani detected a pride in his voice. It was nice to see but it was equally as sobering. “Why, who has a kid?”
“Her stylist. She’s not coming because her son is sick,” Donnée shared.
“Let that be the last of my business you tell him,” Emani grumbled, picking up napkins and silverware and following Carson out to the patio.
Donnée turned to look up at Jahlil. “You need to tell her you’re divorced and you need to make sure she doesn’t marry that nigga.”
“Why is everyone putting this on me?” he asked, annoyed that Emani was annoyed.
Donnée punched him in the arm. “Because this is your fault. Fix it. Last time we’re going to tell you.”
