“Someone shooting at my son isn’t okay. I’m ready to inform Marcel about this shit.”
Her voice sharpened.
“This position makes your existence hot.”
I leaned back in my chair slowly. “Madam.”
She crossed her arms. “Well?”
I sighed. “You in men’s business again.”
Her eyes flashed.
I wasn’t disrespectful, but I wasn’t sugarcoating it either.
“We got it handled, now don’t ask again.”
She stared at me like she was deciding whether to argue.
Before she could speak again, Yuna’s voice cut in.
“Don’t talk to her like that.” She looked straight at me. “She’s just concerned. Like the rest of us.”
I stared at her for a moment.
The whiskey in my system made my patience thinner than usual.
“Sounds like you ready to play your part.”
“Only part I’m playing is for me.”
I shook my head slightly.
“You’re right.”
I looked at my mother.
“I apologize.”
She didn’t say anything, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a little.
That’s when footsteps approached from the house.
My cousin Nico stepped onto the deck.
Dressed like he had just walked off the cover of Forbes.
Tailored jacket. Clean Prada sneakers. Plain gold Rolex watch.
My cousin was the poster white boy.
The kind who could get any race of woman to drop to their knees.
Nico nodded once.
“Evening.”
I leaned back in my chair.
