As soon as we stepped inside, I spotted Mama. Sitting at a table, arms crossed, looking mad as hell like she had been cheated. Opposite her was a slick-dressed, gold-toothed motherfucker named Vega. Cartel. Big money. And by the look on his face Mama owed him. Jules let out a short chuckle. "Ain't no way in hell." I shook my head before stepping forward. "Mama." She ain't even look at me at first. Then she turned, lips pursed like she was the one pissed off.
"Juste," she said. "I need you to handle somethin' for me." I exhaled slow. Here we go. "Handle what, Ma?" Vega leaned back, a smug smirk on his face. "She in deep, St. Jean. Sixty large." I felt my jaw clench. "The fuck you mean sixty?" Vega spread his hands like he was being reasonable. "She kept doubling down, mi amigo. And she lost. Now? She owe."
I turned my head to Mama. She still had her arms crossed, not a damn ounce of shame on her face. "Sixty, Ma?" I repeated, voice low. She clicked her tongue. "Boy, don't say it like that. It ain't like I ain't have a chance to win it back." Jules scoffed beside me. "And yet, here we are."
Vega leaned forward. "Now, I know the St. Jeans good for it. So how you wanna do this? Cash? Or something... else?" I knew exactly what he meant. If I ain't pay He was taking something in return. And I wasn't about to let that happen. I rolled my shoulders, popping my neck. "I ain't gotta tell you that shit like this ain't a good look, Vega." He smirked, nodding. "I ain't gotta tell you I don't give a fuck, either." The room got quiet. Real quiet. Jules shifted next to me, arms crossed over his chest. I pulled out my phone, tapped a few buttons, then slid it across the table.
"Sixty bands. Wired. Now we done." Vega checked the screen, saw the confirmation, and nodded. "Pleasure doin' business." I snatched my phone back, turned to Mama, and grabbed her ass up out that chair. "Let's go." She tried to act offended, but I wasn't having it. I led her straight out the back, Jules right behind me. We drove in silence for a good five minutes before Mama finally decided to speak. "You ain't have to drag me out like that," she muttered, arms folded in the passenger seat. Jules gripped the wheel so damn tight my knuckles popped.
"You keep playing like this, Ma. One day, ain't gon' be no payoff. Ain't gon' be no St. Jean name saving your ass. One day? They gon' want something else." I said. She sighed. "Boy, I'm fine. I got a system—"
"A system?" Jules cut in, laughing bitterly. "The same system that got you sixty-fucking-thousand in debt to a cartel nigga?" She rolled her eyes. "Ain't none of y'all ever had a vice?"
"Yeah," I muttered. "And I ain't got a damn one that'll get me killed." Jules nodded. "Facts." Mama waved us off. "I hear y'all. But that's beside the point, I took 360k out of the shared account I have with your daddy . I got bigger problems ." Jules whipped into the gas station lot so fast, my whole body jerked forward. The tires screeched loud as hell, heads turning from people pumping gas nearby. I wasn't even worried about them, though—I was too busy trying not to lose my shit. I turned slow, staring at Mama like I hadn't just heard what the fuck she said.
"You did what?" I asked, voice dangerously low. Mama waved a dismissive hand, like it wasn't damn near a death sentence to touch that account. "I took 360k out of the shared account me and your daddy got. What's the big deal?" Jules damn near banged his head against the wheel. "Ma," he muttered, voice tight. "You outta your damn mind."
"You stole from Pops?" I asked, just to make sure I heard that shit right. She smacked her lips. "Boy, it ain't stealin' if my name on the account. Ain't like I ain't put money in it before." Jules turned in his seat, gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to snatch it out. "How much money you put in it, Ma?" She went quiet. Exactly. I ran a hand down my face, gripping the back of my neck. Pops was gon' lose his entire shit.
"Does he know?" I asked, voice flat. She huffed. "Not yet." I turned to Jules. "Bruh, this shit crazy." Jules shook his head, rubbing his temples. "He gon' know, Ma. That ain't no small amount. You ain't even take 50 bands—360k? He gon' see that missing."
She sighed like we were the ones stressing her out. "I was gon' put it back!" Jules and I said nothing. Just stared at her. She had the nerve to look offended. "Oh, so y'all think I'm just reckless, huh?" she snapped, crossing her arms. I barked out a humorless laugh. "Ma, I don't think—you are." Jules smirked, shaking his head. "You stole from Pops. You owe cartel niggas. And you sittin' here actin' like we overreacting."
She waved her hand again, acting like it was nothing. "Ain't no need to run tellin' him—" I cut her off, laughing again, but this time it was darker. "Oh, nah, Ma. You tellin' him." Her face twisted up. "Excuse me?" Jules leaned back in his seat. "Nah, he right. You tellin' him. We ain't gettin' caught in the middle of this bullshit." She smacked her teeth, shaking her head. Silence filled the car. She sat there, glaring, like she was debating if she could get out of this. I already knew the answer.
"You tell him," I said again, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Or we will." She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she knew she ain't have a choice. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll handle it." Jules and I shared a look.
_
We pulled up to Jules' spot after dropping mama off, my eyes immediately locking onto Chiana's car parked out front. My eyebrow lifted as he cut the engine. She ain't mention shit about coming over here today. Jules must've peeped my expression because he let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he pushed open his door, smirking as we stepped out the truck. I ignored him. We stepped inside Jules' house, the scent of food and the low hum of female voices filtering in from the backyard. Nia always had a way of making their house feel like a home—something I admired but never really thought about too deep.
As soon as we hit the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of Chiana, Nia, and some other chick out back. Amina. I recognized her from pictures and the way Chiana always cracked up on FaceTime when they talked. That was her ace. Pierre had pulled up after dropping Noles off somewhere . I turned back to the window, watching Chiana throw her head back laughing at whatever Nia and Amina were talking about. She looked good as hell. Her skin was glowing, her braids swinging over her shoulder, that soft ass smile on her face. She was comfortable.
I leaned back against the counter, watching Pierre grab a bottle of Don Julio off the counter like he was about to go out there and make himself real comfortable. "I tell you niggas what," he said, twisting the cap off with a smirk. "I'm about to take this bottle outside and watch them kids run around and look at some ass. See what Ms. Lady out there talkin' 'bout."
I chuckled, shaking my head as Jules let out a laugh. "You tryna push up on Amina?" Jules smirked, shaking his head. "Nigga, they say she got a mouthpiece on her. You ain't ready for that one." Pierre raised an eyebrow, stepping toward the back door. "Man, listen. A closed mouth don't get fed." He shot me a look before twisting the bottle in his hand. "And neither do a thirsty nigga. But I'm gon' drink either way." I shook my head, watching his ass walk outside, sliding right into the circle like he belonged there.
Nia, Chiana, and Amina all turned to look at him. Chiana's eyebrow lifted like she already knew he was on bullshit. Amina, on the other hand, looked Pierre up and down, then shook her head with a smirk. I poured myself a cup of liquor, shaking my head as I stepped outside with Jules. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the backyard, where Nia, Chiana, and Amina were posted up, lounging like they didn't have a care in the world. Pierre was already out there, holding the bottle of Don Julio like it was an invitation to bullshit.
Chiana smiled when she saw me and stood up, meeting me with a kiss. Her lips tasted like tequila. I lifted her sunglasses up, looking her dead in the eyes. She was high and tipsy. She grinned at me, knowing exactly what I was doing. "Don't say anything," she giggled. I smirked, pulling her down onto my lap as I sat in her chair. Across from us, Amina, who I hadn't officially met yet, raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down. "So you the famous Juste?" she mused, her voice laced with amusement.
I smirked. "That depend. What the fuck she been tellin' you?" Amina laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "That you crazy as hell." I chuckled, shaking my head. "That's fair."
Pierre leaned in, eyes locked on Amina like she was a full-course meal. "And what they been tellin' you 'bout me?" Amina barely glanced his way. "That you a headache I ain't got time for." Jules busted out laughing, damn near spilling his drink.
"How long you been ova' here?" I mumbled, my lips brushing against Chiana's collarbone as I spoke. She adjusted herself on my lap, her body molding against mine. "Little while," she said, looking down at me, smirking like she was up to something. I ran my hand up the side of her thigh, watching her shiver before I looked back at Pierre, who was still locked in on Amina like she was the last shot of Henny at the end of the night. This nigga was really trying it. Amina had her legs crossed, one hand holding her drink while the other scrolled on her phone like Pierre wasn't even worth the data to acknowledge. "So you single-single, or you got a lil' somebody somewhere?" Pierre asked, his voice smooth, leaning in like he just knew he was about to bag her ass.
Amina took a slow sip, then side-eyed him over the rim of her glass. "If I did, you wouldn't be worth the response." Nia covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. I shook my head, smirking as Pierre sat back, blinking slow like he was recalculating his next move. "Aight, that's cool," Pierre nodded. "So what you saying is, you open to options." Amina rolled her eyes. "Niggas hear what they wanna hear."
Chiana laughed on my lap, shaking her head. "Pierre, why you doing this to yourself?" Pierre ignored her, still focused. "Look, I ain't gon' lie, I like a challenge. A woman with a slick-ass mouth? That's my type." Amina gave him a blank stare. "And what type am I supposed to be?" Pierre grinned, adjusting his chain like he was about to say something real smooth. "The type that needs a real nigga in her life. Somebody who can handle all that mouth, but still make you feel safe, y'know?" Amina stared at him for a long moment, lips pursed like she was really thinking it over.
Then she leaned forward, placed her glass on the table, and said real slow, "Niggas love talking about handling a woman with a slick mouth—until they realize she got hands too." Pierre blinked three times fast, then let out a slow breath. "I mean, if you tryna put your hands on me, we can do that too—long as we do it in private."
The whole backyard lost it. Amina sucked her teeth, shaking her head. "See? Niggas just can't help themselves." Pierre laughed, rubbing his beard. "I can't help it, baeeby. You fine as hell. You got me over here ready to get on one knee." Amina picked her glass back up, smirking now. "That's cute. You practice that in the mirror?"
Pierre shook his head. "Nah, this real life. I'm tryin' to be in your life." Chiana laughed against me, shaking her head. "I don't know, Amina. He really tryna apply pressure." Amina shrugged, sipping her drink again. "I'll think about it." Pierre grinned. "That's all I needed to hear." I smirked, pulling Chiana closer, kissing the side of her neck.
CHIANA
