Suddenly, my mama jumped to her feet. “And why are y’all even here?!” she shouted toward the back. “We’re tired of rich outsiders coming to destroy our community! We’re tired of gangsters bringing their violence in our community!”
A few people cheered her on, while my soul left my body.
“Mama,” I hissed, grabbing her arm. “Sit down!”
She tried to pull free, but I was stronger than I looked, especially when I was embarrassed.
“Rhythm, don’t you tell me to—”
I yanked her back into her chair. “If these men are really drug dealers, you do not need to be talking mess to them.”
Her nostrils flared. “That’s exactly why I’m speaking up. We can’t let them bring their dirty money over here and pretend they’re saviors.”
“Mama—”
“We have enough to deal with in this community. We don’t need some cartel bringing their bullshit with them.”
I pressed my lips together, frustrated. She was one of those overly involved community mothers who knew everybody, had everybody’s number, and acted like every meeting was a personal mission. She had even joked about running for alderman like she wasn’t already exhausting enough as a regular citizen.
While she kept whisper-yelling at me, one of the men in the back—taller, heavier, with a colder face—suddenly stepped forward like he was about to step in the face of the protester that was recording them. The room felt it immediately. Conversations died mid-sentence.
I held my breath.
Then the man with the glasses reached out and caught the other man by the arm, pulling him back. He leaned in and said something in his ear. The effect was instant. The angry guy paused. His jaw still worked like he wanted smoke, but he listened. The man with the glasses kept talking, like he was calming the other guy down.
He wasn’t just fine. He was in charge of himself in a way most men weren’t. He was a different kind of leader. It was attractive in a way that made me mad at myself for never having experienced it before.
The protester kept his phone up. He was still loud and demanding answers. But the men in the back looked like they’d decided this was no longer worth their time.
They began to move quietly and together. The man with the glasses was the last one to turn, and I swear my eyes chased him like I was trying to memorize a painting before someone took it off the wall.
My mama leaned toward me again. “See? They know they’re wrong. That’s why they’re leaving.”
“Or they know how to avoid giving people a show,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
She glared at me like I had betrayed the revolution.
The men walked out the back doors, leaving behind a room full of noise, speculation, and adrenaline.
I sat there, oddly disappointed because the room felt a little less bright without Mr. Glasses in it.
4
RHYTHM BROOKS
By the time I pulled up in front of Voss Contemporary House two days later, my nerves were louder than my engine. I put the car in park and looked back at my kids. For a half-second, I thought about locking the doors and going in alone. Then I realized how busy the street was.
I turned to them and started to threaten them through gritted teeth. “Listen, when we go in here, y’all better act like y’all got some sense. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” KJ said, a little too fast.
Kinsley nodded just because KJ had.
“I’m serious. This is a very important meeting for mommy, and I need you two on your best behavior,” I pushed.
“We gon’ act right, Ma,” KJ whined.
As I glared at him for emphasis, my phone began to ring. I looked back at it in the cup holder and blew an irritated breath when I saw that it was Kodi.
