“Aight, aight.” Robin laughed. “I get it. She bad. I heard niggas in here acting like she a fuckin T-bone steak.”
“Tell them bum ass niggas to back the fuck back on that one. I’ll call the warden on they asses. Lock y’all niggas down with a quickness. On my granny.”
“That’s fucked up, bruh. I hope she what you need. I really do. Don’t nobody deserve it more than you. I been praying Pearl send somebody down there for you.”
“‘Preciate, that.”
“When do I meet her?”
“As soon as you touch down. But I gotta make sure she quits that running shit first.” Rolani laughed. “She keeps yelling ‘keep it professional’ since we work together now. But we passed that. ”
“Oh, you fucking up the workplace?” Robin’s laugh echoed through the line.
“Man, I ain’t trying to fuck nothing up. Paige and G had been on me for months about meeting her, but I wasn’t trying to hear it.” His voice dropped, got more serious. “But from the second we met on the plane, she’s all I can think about. Muthafucka ghosted me for six months. Now she’s back around and…”
“You’re stuck.”
“Like a kink in a chain, bruh.”
“Then don’t fuck it up,” Robin said simply. “Don’t let your pride, fear, or your past shit, anything get in the way. I already did that shit and look where it got me.”
Rolani heard what his brother wasn’t saying—the regret about his friend Spirit, about the choices that led to where he was now.
“But I ain’t tryna talk about that,” Rolani said, though he was still smiling, thinking about showing up at Kennedi’s parents’house like he had every right to be there. The memory warmed him even now, but it didn’t stay long. It was time to get into the real reason for the call.
“We need to talk about Monshay. You asked me to give you time to handle it. I did. Now I’m finna send some people to find her ass and drag that bitch back to face her daughter.”
Robin’s whole demeanor shifted, the playfulness draining from his voice. “Bruh, that hoe ain’t worth it. Fuck her. Swear.”
“I hear you, my nigga. I do, but nah, she gotta answer for this. And I don’t care if she does it in spirit, if you get me.”
Robin’s sigh came through heavy. “I had Duke file the paperwork last week. I’m moving forward with getting her rights terminated.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. She ain’t showed up for Monroe in months, Ro. She missed her birthday, missed her spelling bee qualifier, missed every weekend she was supposed to have. I’m done making excuses.”
Robin never bad-mouthed her in front of or anywhere near Monroe. Rolani didn’t agree with that approach. Monroe was smart as hell, probably smarter than both of them combined. All that pussyfooting Robin did, pretending like Monshay wasn’t the piece of shit at the bottom of the toilet, rubbed Rolani the wrong way. Monroe was his heart, his whole world, and unless it was death itself, there was no excuse for being a shit parent. None.
There was heaviness in Robin’s voice. This wasn’t the passive acceptance Rolani had been frustrated with—this was a man who’d reached his limit.
“What Monroe say about it?”
“I haven’t told her yet. Waiting on Duke to tell me when.” Robin’s voice cracked slightly. “But she already knows, you know? She stopped asking about her mama months ago. Just stopped.”
“That’s fucked up, bruh.”
“Yeah, it is. But I can’t keep letting her hurt Monroe to protect Monshay’s image. My baby deserves better than a mama who treats her like an option and plots on the one who been raising her.”
Rolani cracked his knuckles; this was a sore spot for him. “You need me to handle anything? Say the word, Rob, I’ll take the trash out.”
“Nah. I need you to be there for Monroe. Be the constant you’ve always been. She’s gonna need that when this shit gets official. And keep running Luther’s for me. That restaurant’s for Monroe and the future Prachers.”
“You know I got both. Always.”
“I know you do.” The humor left Robin's voice. “That's why I can do this from in here. ‘Cause I know even if I fuck it up, you got my back, and you got hers. I’m about to walk these next few months down.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
