I nod at the pastor and give a tight smile. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he nods towards the pews. I turn and make a beeline through the rows and avoid my parents’ gaze as I have more than enough guilt to marinate in at the moment.
Little did I know, I had a surprise waiting for me back in my seat.
“Won’t He do it?” Zaza asks.
“Yes, he will.” Frankie’s voice is sound in response, following a yawn.
The two of them are leaning back in my row, looking like they just snuck in. Which, in all fairness, they probably did.
“Why are y’all in my spot?” I whisper-yell.
“Your spot?” Zaza responds in the same tone. “We always sit in the back. Right, Frankie?”
Another yawn from sleeping beauty, but that was it.
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask as I slip in between them taking great care to focus on the woman who kept me up all night.
“Go easy on us. We woke up thirty minutes ago,” Zaza whispers as she adjusts her sunglasses.
That is when I notice their outfits. Plain and ordinary. Nothing like the crazy shit they had on yesterday. The only weirdthing that stands out is the oversized shades both of them are wearing.
“Christ.”
“I know.”
“At least you still had time to do your makeup.”
?“Did it on the bus over here.”??
“Wow,” I shake my head. “Hungover, overslept, and didn’t even take an Uber to get here quickly. Not a good look, Za.”
“I know, I fucked up.”
“Swearing in the house of the Lord, too?”
“Wow,” one of her eyebrows rises over the frames. “You sound like your mother.”
I softly gasp. “Take it back.”
With a playful shove, she chuckles. “How mad do you think she’s gonna be?”
“She’s already pretty ticked off.”
“Of course,” she sighs. “I can’t do anything right, so what’s the point?”
I face forward, thinking of the pastor’s words. “That’s the million-dollar question.”
She scoffs. “Oh please, Jabari. My ‘can’t do anything right,’ and yours are two different things, bruv. Your bare minimum outshines my best efforts by miles.”
I tilt my head to the side before I reply. “What makes you say that?”
I hear Frankie snort next to me, and Za shakes her head in understanding. I’m getting sick of these little inside jokes and conversations.
“Just forget it,” she sighs. “I’m over this conversation already, my head hurts.”
“Come on,” I push louder. “Just spit it out, yeah?”
