“I have that face. I can make people comfortable before I hit them in the neck,” Emani quipped. “Allegedly.”
John laughed. “Yeah. Allegedly. I saw the videos.”
“Plan on bringing those charges against me again?”
John swayed his head. “I honestly don’t want the smoke with your man. I saw how he was behind Andrew. You? I might disappear for real, so I choose my battles.”
“I hear you. Speaking of battles. For the kids, the fathers should at least be able to get along. So if you aren’t occupied upholding justice, we’re doing a Thanksgiving dinner at the Volts Community Center on thanksgiving day. Y’all should come by and then over for dinner.”
“You sure?” John posed.
“Drew is infatuated with your daughter and your son is swinging my girl around so we might as well do them a favor. Plus, I know how lonely the holidays can be. And don’t worry about Jahlil, I’ll take care of him.”
John smiled faintly. “I appreciate the invite.”
“It’s nothing,” Emani said before Sanaa’s voice rang out.
“Mani, can Aryn sit with us?”
Emani looked down at the duo. “If it’s okay with his dad, I don’t mind.”
“I probably should be asking if it’s okay with her dad,” John stated.
“He’s going to find himself by the team, coaching from behind. You’re good.”
39 /JAHLIL
He sufferedthrough the charity Thanksgiving dinner standing next to John. But the nigga in his house handing his lady and his Aunt a bottle of wine and flowers was too damn far. Jahlil stood near the door, giving Emani a look because she, in fact, did not tell him that his Thanksgiving would be breaking bread with the opps. But here he was, in his house – comfortable. His snotty-nosed son hugging up on his babygirl. His daughter skinning and grinning at Andrew as he handed her a basket that asked her to be his girlfriend. It was too much and everything at one time. Because how the hell did Emani manage to pull it all together so peacefully? And how’d she know that he’d hate it and respect it at the same time?
Jahlil shot her a look, earning a pointed glare back. She used the blade of the knife and subtly swung it in the direction of John Barette and their friends. He frowned more, earning her soft expression as she mouthed, “go.”
A few swings at the air, he dragged his tall body over to the group. He lowly grumbled to himself before straightening and plastering a pleasant look over his face. Because if he didn’t, Ashton was going to crack his dumbass jokes and Emani would make him walk down the street to settle the bullshit for real.
“John,” Jahlil spoke, clearing his throat, being sure Emani heard him initiate the conversation. “Thanks for coming.”
John turned from Ashton, Kyrie, and Carson staring at him the same way they did at the basketball game after Emani gave them the look to be nice. The group of men caught Emani’s squint from the kitchen and straightened up.
“Yeah, John,” Ashton started. “Thanks for coming. I mean, what’s more mouths to feed.”
“Even if it is a cop,” Kyrie grumbled, walking away.
Ashton followed, leaving Carson to amble into the kitchen. “What’s my favorite girl in here making?”
Aunt Violet shooed him off with a smile.
Donnée commented first. “I don’t think Mr. Fletcher is about to have any of that.”
Jahlil’s ears were burning but he needed to handle what was in front of him before he handled who his aunt was running off to sneak and freak with. John sensed it so he started the apology again.
“Don’t start. I can’t take too much more of your groveling for forgiveness,” Jahlil stated with a huff. “You want a drink?”
John swayed. “Nah, I haven’t touched the bottle since after Aryn turned one. Grief is a muhfucka.”
Jahlil laughed bitterly. “Yeah, it is.”
“Sanaa’s mom?”
He scoffed with laughter. “Nah, she was – is a gold digging deadbeat. My mother. Undiagnosed mental illness left untreated turned into her trying to kill Andrew when he was three because she thought he was sent to kill her.”
