Pierre and Juste had appeared out of nowhere. Juste talking to Pierre turned toward the mess still on the floor. "Man, get this bitch outta here, bruh." Amina threw her hands up, mouth full of attitude. "Oh, hell no." We all turned to her. "If Jade love sucking other people's men dicks so bad, she won't suck Pierre’s'. Get somebody else to do it!" Silence. Then, I lost it. Like, full-blown, stomach-hurting, can't-breathe type laughter. Even Nia, still raging, let out a half-crazed chuckle, shaking her head. Pierre was crying laughing at this point. "Aye, she got a point, though!" Juste, meanwhile, ran both hands down his face like he was reconsidering his entire life choices.
"Noles," he gritted out, his patience damn near gone, "get the bitch outta here, now." Noles sighed like this was the worst inconvenience of his life, but still bent down and helped Jade up. Her lip was busted, and her weave was hanging on for dear life. She sniffled, glaring at all of us, but didn't dare say a word. She knew better. "You lucky he ain't let her kill your ass," Juste muttered at her as Noles led her toward the exit.
Nia huffed, still breathing heavy. She looked at Jules. Jules looked at her. The tension between them, was Thicker than church gumbo. "Im done . Get your shit out of my house . I want a divorce." She said taking off her ring leaving us all standing there .
JUSTE
I pulled up in front of the set of condos, cutting the engine and gripping the steering wheel for a second. Shit had been crazy since the Family Formal. Jules had been ghost for a whole damn week. No calls, no texts—nothing. I already knew where he was. This condo was something Me and Jules got together when I turned twenty-one, back when we thought we was untouchable, before Pops had fully put us on. We never let go of it. It was one of them hidden spots, the type of place we came to when we needed to disappear. The problem was, Jules wasn't supposed to be disappearing right now. My phone rang, and I hit speaker without thinking. "I'm gon' kick your brother ass when we find him," Pops' voice boomed through the car.
I exhaled. Pops had been pissed since the formal. Not even about the fight itself—hell, we all expected some shit to pop off. But Jules, He had embarrassed his wife. And that was the part Pops wasn't letting slide. "Yeah, his truck here," I muttered, scanning the parking lot. "Look like he here."
"Bring his ass to me," Pops ordered. I climbed out the car and made my way up the stairs, my footsteps heavy on the pavement. When I got to the door, I ain't bother knocking. I twisted the hidden spare key, stepping inside. The place smelled like liquor, weed, and musty balls. Jules was on the couch, one arm thrown over his face, a bottle of D'usse sitting on the table next to an ashtray full of blunts. The TV was on, but muted, and his phone was facedown next to him.
"Nigga, get up." My voice cut through the quiet. He didn't move at first, just exhaled through his nose like he was debating whether to act like he ain't hear me. Then he slowly peeled his arm back, squinting at me. "What the fuck you doin' here?" I sat down in the chair across from him, arms crossed, legs spread, leaning back like I had all the time in the world. "Should be askin' you the same thing," I said coolly. "Yo ass been missing for a week. Jules sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. "Man, I ain't in the mood for this shit, Juste."
"That's too bad. 'Cause Pops wanna see you." Jules froze for a second, then groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. "Shit."
"Yeah, nigga. Shit. You done fucked up." He sat forward again, reaching for the bottle, but I was faster. I grabbed it before he could, twisting off the cap and taking a slow sip myself. "You embarrassed ha, Jules," I continued. "Nia had to scrap at a formal. Pops ain't lettin' that shit slide." Jules leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked tired, stressed, fucked up. "I ain't mean for it to go down like that," he admitted, voice low. "Jade wasn't supposed to be there."
"Then why the fuck was she?" He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. "I don't know. That bitch crazy, Juste." I let that sit between us for a second before speaking again. "Aight," I finally said, shaking my head at him. "Go get a shower, nigga. You stink. And hurry the fuck up." Jules shot me a look but didn't argue, dragging his tired ass toward the bathroom. I pulled my phone from my pocket, scrolling through notifications when Chiana's name popped up.
Girls' night tonight with Nia and Amina.
I smirked, shaking my head. That meant she was gon' be tipsy, high, or both when I got back.
I'll wait up.I responded back .
A while later, Jules reappeared looking slightly more human, fresh clothes on, but still with the weight of his own bullshit dragging behind him. We hopped in the car, rolling through the city in silence for a few minutes before he finally spoke.
"You ever feel like shit just... get outta your control?" I side-eyed him. "You feel like shit got outta control, or you just ain't like the way it played out?" Jules exhaled through his nose, rubbing his hands together. "Man, I ain't mean for shit to happen like that." I didn't say nothing, just gripped the wheel, staring ahead. When we pulled up to the house, I already knew this wasn't about to be a peaceful visit.
Inside, Pops was already at the kitchen table, eating what looked like a fried pork chop sandwich Mama had just fixed him. The whole house smelled like seasoning, but the energy was thick. Mama was at the stove, still moving around, like she wasn't trying to involve herself too much. Jules exhaled slow, bracing himself. I dropped my coat on the back of a chair, taking my seat next to Pops, watching him take a big-ass bite before he finally cut his eyes up at us. Jules ain't even sit down yet. Pops chewed slow, then finally swallowed. He flicked his gaze up at Jules, then went back to his food. "You look like shit," he finally said. I bit back a smirk. "Appreciate it," Jules muttered, sitting down across from him.
I leaned back. "Fix me one, Ma. Please." She waved me off, already moving to the stove. Pops took another bite, wiping his hands on a paper towel before speaking again. "Jules, tell me how you thought this was gon' go." Jules shifted. "I ain't—"Pops held up a hand. "Nah. For real. Walk me through what was going through that dumb-ass head of yours. You thought you was gon' cheat in peace, bring that bitch around your family, and Nia wasn't gon' do nothing?" Jules rubbed his face, already exhausted, but he ain't try to defend himself. "You embarrassed your wife. Made her look like a fool in front of everybody. You done put your family name out there for some outside ass. So tell me—what's your next move, son?"
Jules exhaled, shaking his head. "I don't know." Pops laughed, but there wasn't shit funny about it. "Wrong answer," he said, reaching for his drink. "See, that's the problem. You ain't got no control over your shit, so now I gotta clean it up. You fuck up, we all gotta deal with it."
Jules' jaw flexed. "I ain't ask y'all to clean up shit for me." Pops raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you got it handled then? You went home yet?" Silence. Pops smirked, shaking his head. "That's what I thought."
I finally spoke, my voice low, calm but firm. "You need to go home, handle your shit." Jules leaned back, eyes flicking between us. "You actin like you ain't never fucked up before."
Mama slid a plate in front of me, shaking her head at all of us like she was sick of our shit. "Y'all need to stop acting like y'all don't know how to handle your households," she muttered, pouring herself a drink. "I raised y'all better than that." Jules scoffed, but he ain't argue. Pops leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. "You gon' take your ass home, apologize to your wife, and fix your marriage. No more bullshit. No more outside bitches. We got bigger shit to focus on." Jules exhaled, defeated but listening. Then the front door opened, and heels clicked against the hardwood floor. A second later, Nia appeared in the dining room, her presence like a damn storm cloud. Her expression held Pure irritation.
"Nu-uh, Ms. Evie," she said, shaking her head as she crossed her arms. "You dead wrong. This is not what you called me over here for." Me and Pops sucked our teeth at the same time and looked dead at Mama, who suddenly looked real invested in stirring her drink. Jules leaned back, already preparing for the bullshit.
"And you—" Nia jabbed a finger at Jules as she stalked closer. "You can ignore my texts all you want, but you better be there to pick them fuckin' kids up from school and put them in the bed tonight. They ain't seen your ass in a week, and I'm goin' out." Jules frowned, standing up from the table, eyes narrowing. "The fuck you mean goin' out? You gon' get your ass home with our kids. That's what you doin' tonight."
Nia rolled her eyes hard as hell, waving him off like he ain't just say shit. "Nigga, you ain't talkin' 'bout nothing. Pick them fuckin' kids up." Jules took a slow breath, flexing his jaw. "So that's what we on?" He stepped up, trying to tower over her, but Nia wasn't backing down. "You think I'ma just let you go out after all this shit?" Nia smirked. "Lemme guess—you can fuck up in peace, but I'm supposed to stay home and cry?" She let out a short laugh. "Yeah, okay." Jules stepped in closer. "Where you goin', Nia?" His voice dropped lower. She tilted her head, poking her tongue into her cheek. "Out."
"Nia," Jules warned. She leaned in, smiling real pretty. "Don't you got some kids to pick up?"
"Ain't nobody tryna let y'all marriage implode in my damn house," Mama grumbled, rubbing her temple. She turned to Nia. "I'll pick up the damn kids and make sure they get in the bed." But before the words were even fully out her mouth— "No the hell you won't." Pops' voice cut through, shutting that shit down immediately. "We got plans," he continued, voice firm. "This nigga ain't seen his kids in a week. He need to spend time with 'em." Jules shifted, jaw clenching. He knew Pops wasn't wrong, but the tension between him and Nia was too damn thick for logic to settle in. Nia turned on her heel, ready to leave. But Jules caught her by the arm. His voice was lower now, gritted, like he was holding back. "Put your ring back on." Nia froze. Then, slowly, she turned back to face him. Her expression was blank, unreadable—until it wasn't. "Did you keep your ring on when you was fuckin' that bitch?" Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut . Jules didn't answer. He just stared at her. The silence was heavy, stretching out between them. And then— She snatched her arm away and walked out.
Jules stood there for a long moment, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to punch something. The air in the room was thick, still holding the weight of his bullshit with Nia, but none of us was here for that. We had real shit to discuss. Noles and Pierre walked in, pulling up seats at the table. I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly as Pops tapped his fingers against his whiskey glass, his expression unreadable. "Back to business," he finally said, voice level but firm. "This shit ain't necessarily what I called y'all over here for." That got everyone's attention. Jules, who had been standing stiffly, finally sat his ass down, rubbing a hand over his head. I could tell he was glad for the distraction.
Pops sighed, swirling the ice in his glass before taking a sip. Then he looked up at us. "Your uncle startin' shit. "I felt my jaw tighten. I already knew where this was going. Abel. Pops continued. "He wanna come home to Louisiana and take over. Feels like 'cause his numbers so high, he should be able to slide back in like he never left. Like we supposed to just bow the fuck down. "Pierre let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I knew some shit wasn't right with pops at the formal. That nigga always been a sneaky motherfucka."
"Feel like he's entitled," Noles added. "Like shit ain't been running smoothly without him all this time." I nodded slowly, biting into my sandwich before responding. "The fuck your brother got going?" Pops sat forward, his face unreadable, but I saw the way his fingers tapped against the table, a dead giveaway that this shit had been weighing on him. "He on some real devious shit. Always have been. Y'all know how he move. Snake shit, conniving shit, backdoor shit." Pops took another sip, then set his glass down with a solid thunk. "I don't trust him. Never have."
