“Call somebody to stitch him up. Pup’s got money to make for me.” He drops the knife with disgust, swaggering to the back door while blood cascades over my waistband and sinks into the fabric of my shorts.
He reaches out to push the door open, but stops and looks over his shoulder. “Oh, and Pup?”
His cold eyes veer over to Rasheeda. “Send my love to the lady in your life. Slim, is it? I hope Slim knows what kind of man she’s got on her hands. Jamari always said it was in your eyes.”
He looks back at me, sizing me up. “Come on, Rasheeda. I got a meeting across town with Mayor Julian. I can’t be late.”
Rasheeda’s nostrils flare, and she narrows her eyes at me before turning and following him out.
PART THREE
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
LOVIE
“I don’t knowif I can keep at this training thing,” Uncle Kenny garbles around a mouthful of spaghetti.
Aunt Faye rolls her eyes and collapses into her matching La-Z-Boy across from his. “What you talking about, Ken?”
“Your boy showed up at the gym yesterday with two black eyesanda busted head this time.”
I blow out a breath, hugging the loveseat’s ratty throw pillow closer to my chest just like Rich had told me to. My eyes stay on the football game playing on the living room TV even though they want to veer toward Uncle Kenny.
Aunt Faye scoffs. “Okay? What’s the problem? He’s a boxer. That’s what happens during sparring.”
“He ain’t no damn boxer.”
I hold in my own scoff, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.
Richreallywasn’t a boxer.
Last weekend, his fist landed against Wendell’s fat face with the same deafeningbangthat rang out when he punched thattire in his backyard. I’ve never heard that sound come from any of the punches that Uncle Kenny’s boxers landed.
At first I buried the memory deep into the back of my mind where I put me and AJ’s fights, but it kept clawing its way out and begging me to remember the tiny bit of satisfaction I felt after Rich hit Wendell and the way he didn’t apologize for it afterward. It floated in my head as much as the memories of our tongues gliding together.
Uncle Kenny huffs. “I’ll be damned if I let him spar with any of my guys. So I know he ain’t get no two black eyes from nobody at Worthing.”
I shake my head, but they don’t even notice.
When they drift into their world, I’m almost always an afterthought. It’s not that they do it on purpose, it’s just that they had planned a life together before I came to be with them. Terrica always thought it was a “biological thing.” She said it didn’t mean they didn’t love me. They were just forced to be parents before they could even have their own kids. They only had a year together before I came, and the older I get, the more I think there’s some truth to her theory.
“If he keeps messing around with my time, he ain’t gon’everbe a boxer. One thing I can say about those other boys that showed up on our porch is that they wanted it,” Uncle Kenny says, leaning forward with his bowl cupped in his hand. “They were tired of walking into a lion’s den. They wanted out. It was the first thing that came out of their mouths when I met them on that front porch.”
He points toward the front of the house. “What the hell does Pup want? Huh?”
“He wants to be a boxer,” Aunt Faye replies.
Listening to them bicker is different now that I’m privy to things that I wasn’t privy to before. Now I know the “lion’s den”isn’t some metaphor for the streets. It’s Lucky’s. It’s interesting to witness the creative ways they tiptoe over their words.
Aunt Faye crosses her legs, staring at the TV. “Rich wants it. I told you he wanted it the day he came and sat in our kitchen.”
I glance toward our small kitchen.
Rich had actually been past our porch and walked into our house?
My Rich?
