“Don’t fucking play with me, Jelani,” Monica said as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Bitch had her titties in your face like she don’t see me sitting right here.” She turned to me. “Money, these people work for you? Can you fire folks? Cause I don’t like that shit.” She spoke loud enough for the flight attendant to hear.
“Monica!” Jasmine burst into laughter, covering her face with her hand.
Slim pulled his headphones down. “Y'all cutting up, and we haven’t even taken off. This about to be a long ass flight.”
I glanced over at Jasmine once we were in the air. She was staring out the window, deep in thought.
“What you over there thinking about?” I nudged her gently.
She smiled softly. “I’m just a little nervous.”
“You think Sydney Banks didn’t raise a gentleman?” I teased. “Stop worrying, it’ll be fine.” I kissed the top of her head.
When we landed in New York, her anxiety seemed to have gone up a notch, even though we weren’t heading to Queens until the next day.
“Jas, what’s the real issue? You barely said two words at dinner, and you were quiet the whole ride back,” I said, watching her take out her pajamas.
She huffed, tugging her tank top over her head. “Maybe we should’ve waited. I don’t know that I should’ve told them so soon.”
I scrunched up my face. I wasn’t used to seeing her like this. “You scared of your parents or something? I need to bring my gun?”
“Cash, please be fucking for real.” She glared at me. “And don’t bring your gun tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh,” I replied. My gun was definitely coming to dinner.
She let out a deep sigh and climbed into bed, getting under the covers next to me. “I’m not scared of my parents. It’s just… a lot. I’m overwhelmed.”
I pulled her into my chest. “Where’s this coming from? Aren’t y’all close?” From everything she told me, her folks were everyday, God-fearing, upper-middle-class people who doted on their daughter. Nothing about them suggested they were difficult.
She intertwined her fingers with mine. “We are, but I’ve never really brought anyone around for them to meet. Not even…” she trailed off.
“They never met Marcus?” I asked, surprised, given their history.
“Nothing more than a brief hi,” she admitted. “He’d pick me up sometimes, but I mostly just met up with him. You know… the whole dating a dope boy thing.”
“Damn,” I said. “I definitely got it better than that bitch nigga in more ways than one.”
Jasmine groaned, burying her face in my chest. “Can you not?”
I chuckled. “Facts are facts, shorty. But seriously, any trouble I’ve gotten into has been scrubbed. And you already know I can handle myself.”
She tilted her head to look up at me. “I just want them to like you.”
“Jas, I’m not even gon’ hold you—it’d be great if your parents like me, but I don’t really care. That’s not gonna stop us from being together. If they don’t see how much I love you, then that’s on them, ain’t got shit to do with me.”
She let out a soft laugh. “You really don’t be giving a fuck, do you?”
“Nope,” I said, leaning down to kiss her. “Not too concerned with the opinions of other people. I give a fuck about you, my family, and this money. That’s it.”
She rolled her eyes, but I could feel the tension in her body finally ease. “Mhm. Love you too, nutty ass man.”
“You wanna show me how much you love me?” I said, kissing her deeper. My hand went to her neck, tightening around it slightly. Jasmine moaned low against my mouth before pushing away.
“We need to sleep,” she said breathlessly, biting her lip.
I could see the internal tug of war in her eyes, so I just laughed and turned off the lamp.
* * *
