Footsteps followed firm and commanding, I didn't have to look to know it was Ms. Evie. The bathroom door swung open wider, and there she stood, purse tucked high on her arm, nose already turned up like she'd walked into something offensive on principle alone. "It fuckin' stank in here," she announced flatly, eyes sweeping the room. "Nia, that better not be your ass I'm smellin'."
For half a second, I thought Chiana might lose her mind. "Ms. Evie, that's low down and rude as hell," Chiana snapped, standing up. She crossed her arms, posture defensive, protective. Evie didn't even blink. "Out my face, Chiana," she said, waving a dismissive hand without turning. "I'm not talkin' to you."
She stepped fully into the bathroom, her presence filling the space like pressure. She glanced at Nia once, really looked at her and her mouth tightened. "Knowin' damn well you don't smoke," Evie muttered. "Gimme this damn cigarette." She snatched it straight from Nia's fingers, pulled a lighter from her purse, and lit it. She inhaled deep, held it, then exhaled slowly. The audacity of it all almost made me laugh.
Nia lifted her head, eyes heavy, rimmed red and swollen. "Where the kids?" she mumbled.
Evie blew smoke toward the ceiling. "Lookin' for they damn parents. That's where the kids at." That did it. Nia's face crumpled. Evie didn't soften, not immediately. She flicked ash into the ashtray on the bathroom counter, then turned fully toward Nia, eyes sharp, voice cutting. "Get up and get your shit together, Nia. This situation is what it is. Y'all figure it out like grown people just like y'all figure anything damn else out. But this?" She gestured broadly at the room, the mess, the smoke, the tub. "This sittin' around depressed, not washin' your ass? Uh-uh. Not on my watch." Nia flinched. "You a St. Jean woman," Evie continued, voice rising just enough to sting. "Your hot ass been a part of my family since you was fifteen. You know better."
Something in me twisted. Because beneath Evie's sharp tongue, I heard it. Love, dressed up in armor. I watched Nia's hands tremble. Watched her swallow hard like she was trying to choke down years of shame, guilt, and fear all at once. "I didn'tmean for this to happen," Nia whispered. "I didn't plan none of this."
Evie took another drag from the cigarette, then finally her shoulders dropped just a fraction. "Don't nobody ever mean for life to knock 'em upside the head," Ms. Evie said again, her voice calmer now but still sharp at the edges. "But here you are." She crushed the cigarette out hard in the ashtray , the sound final. "And Chiana," she added without even turning around, "I don't give a damn 'bout you cuttin' your eyes at me. I said what I said, and I meant what I said."
Chiana sucked her teeth. "It's a way to say anything, Evie."
Ms. Evie paused at the door, one hand on the frame, and looked back at Nia steady. "I meant every word," she said. Then she walked out, her heels clicking down the hallway like punctuation.
I watched Nia stare at the doorway long after Evie disappeared, her shoulders sagging like the fight had finally drained out of her. She looked smaller somehow. Younger. Like the weight she'd been holding up finally slid down her spine. "Evie make my nerves so damn bad," Chiana exhaled, rubbing her temples. "She worse than the children."
Despite myself, a breath of laughter escaped my chest. It surprised me. Felt foreign in my throat. Chiana stood and moved into action the way she always did. She reached over and pulled the drain in the tub. The water gurgled loud, like the house itself was exhaling. "We gon' get you right, girl," she said to Nia, already turning the faucet back on. "Fresh water. Fresh start."
Amina nodded in agreement, rolling up her sleeves. "I'll order food. Good food. None of that sad shit." Nia let out a shaky breath that sounded like it might turn into another sob but it didn't. She just nodded. Just like that, we moved.
No more talking about Nash.
No more replaying Jules' silence.
No more drowning in the what ifs.
We cleaned. Not just the house. The air. The energy. The heaviness that had settled into the walls like mildew.
Amina opened windows. The smoke lifted, slow and stubborn, but it lifted. Sunlight crept back in, touching corners that hadn't seen light in days. I gathered clothes from the couch, folding them carefully not rushing or judging, just restoring order piece by piece.
Noles
I stared at the chart on my phone longer than I realized. Different symbols flashin in the calendar on the app tellin me when her body was supposed to be most fertile and give us what we wanted. I didn't know when I started trusting apps over instinct, but here I was tracking cycles like a nigga who was on the hunt. Like time hadn't already proven it didn't promise shit.
I rubbed my thumb across the screen, jaw tight. Ayida wanted this. I wanted this. That part was real. But the other part of me, the part that crawled back from death angry and mean, didn't like waiting on anything.
Especially not fate.
Especially not bodies.
Especially not bloodlines.
Especially not curses I didn't believe in but still felt hovering over us like smoke you couldn't wave away. I typed the text before I could overthink it.
We miss you.??????
I stared at it, smirked, then locked my phone. We were posted up in the lower level of the yacht, casino closed for the morning while Juste went through numbers like he was preachin scripture. Papers everywhere. Tablets glowin. Money talk floatin heavy in the air.
The hum of machines upstairs was gone, but I could still hear it in my head, coins, bells, voices, luck changing hands. Juste was proud. Pierre was half listening. Jules was quiet. That's how I knew shit was bad. Jules didn't get quiet unless somethin was eatin at him from the inside out. "And that's month and a half," Juste finished, tapping the table. "Weexceeded projections. By a lot." Pierre whistled low. "Nigga really did it."
I leaned back in my chair, crossin my arms. "Aye," I said, lifting my chin. "I got a question." I said raisin my hand gettin their attention. Pierre cut his eyes at me. "Put yo stupid ass hand down." I ignored him. "Since the casino off the ground and doin' what it's doin'," I continued, eyes on Juste, "when you gon' give me the green light to make the Baptiste family a memory?" The room stilled. Juste looked at me like I'd just kicked over a church pew. "Huh?" he said. "When the fuck we agree to wipe out a whole family?"
"When that old wrinkled-finger bitch opened her mouth about my wife," I said flat. "That's when." Juste rubbed his temples like he was already tired of my shit. "So what, now we just makin the family extinct because feelins hurt?"
"Feelins?" I scoffed. "She tried to mark her. Tried to break her spirit in front of everybody. That's war not feelins nigga." Pierre leaned back, watching me carefully now. Juste exhaled slow. "So what y'all thinkin'?" I didn't hesitate. "I can handle it clean. Quiet. Don't even gotta ripple."
