I sighed, blinking back tears—no more of that. I’d done enough crying for the last year, and I was tired of it.
Once I dried off, I reached for the shea butter. The sweet mango scent calmed me—it reminded me of my personal collection of body oils that I had at home. While I rubbed it into my skin, I made a mental note to thank Nairobi. She’d thought of everything, including the new pack of underwear and a soft pajama shorts set that I put on.
In the bedroom, Cash was still sitting in the armchair. His head was leaned back as his hand rested lightly over his ribs. His eyes were closed, but I could tell that he wasn’t asleep.
“Cash?” I called softly.
He opened his eyes, but there was no warmth in them.
“Let me take a look at your ribs,” I said, stepping toward him. “They might be broken.”
He sat up and grimaced. His hand was still pressed to his side. “I’m fine, Jas,” he grunted roughly. “They’re just bruised.”
He pushed himself to his feet and brushed past me on his way to the bathroom. The sound of the shower filled the silence in the room.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I went down to the kitchen to get something to drink.
Most of the lights downstairs were off, except for the ones in the hallway and kitchen. Jelani and Slim were on the couch watching the evening news.
“We’re reporting live from Councilman Dorsey’s Gala, which came under attack this evening. Multiple injuries have been reported, and there were a few casualties, including businessman, Marcus Stokes, who had just been awarded Entrepreneur of the Year…”
I turned away, tuning out the rest, and opened the fridge. It was fully stocked with juices and sparkling waters, but I needed something stronger to take the edge off.
“What you lookin’ for, nurse?”
I jumped slightly. Jelani was leaning against the kitchen island, watching me.
I rolled my eyes and closed the fridge. “How the hell do you move so quietly?”
“I called your name,” he shrugged. “You didn’t answer, so here I am.”
“Where’s the liquor?” I asked, opening cabinets, looking for a glass.
Jelani cocked his head, studying me. “For you or Money?”
“Me,” I said. I pulled out a glass and set it on the counter.
Jelani pursed his lips before rounding the island to open a lower cabinet. When he stood back up, he held two bottles—tequila and rum.
“Pick your poison.”
I grabbed the tequila and poured myself a heavy shot. I tossed it back, no chaser in sight.
“Damn, Jas,” Jelani chuckled. “The fuck got you drinking like that?”
I shook my head and poured myself another shot. “How can you just be okay with all of this? Like this shit is normal.”
He leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, coming to New York City to rescue my brother’s girlfriend isn’t normal,” he countered.
“You know what I mean,” I said, throwing back the second shot. This had to be some expensive ass tequila, judging by the way it went down so smoothly. “Slim was up in here chillin’ and watching a movie when we got here. Now y’all are watching the news like we weren’t the cause of all that. How are y’all so calm?”
Jelani’s expression sombered, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with something darker. “This ain’t new to us,” he said. “It’s kill or be killed—you learn to keep it pushing.”
He paused, his gaze going distant like he was recalling a memory. “My mom tried to keep us out of my pop’s shit, but after he got killed, it didn’t matter. The streets came knocking, and Money had no choice but to answer. He wasn’t about to let us go back to the hood.”
He let out a dry, bitter chuckle. “I don’t even think about it anymore. I can’t. It’s too much. I’ve just been lucky that it hasn’t been me yet.”
I stayed quiet. I knew Cash had his own demons when it came to his father’s death, but Jelani never opened up like this to me before.
