Niya winced. “What do you mean?” she asked.
God. No. Niya means too much to me.
I gave Marshall a warning glance and he coughed, realizing he was saying too much.
“I uh, I’d better go see about getting some ice.” He grabbed his plate and rushed toward the door. I resisted the urge to bop Marshall on the head when he passed by me.
Once Niya and I were alone again, the tension rose between us.
“What did you tell him about my brother’s death?”
“It was a long time ago. The details of what I told him are a little murky.” Not true. I remembered every single detail about that night. Would remember them for life.
She pierced me with her glance. “But he said—”
“Jhavon’s death was very painful for both of us. I shared my feelings with these guys during some really rough times. And here I am, again, with another friend gone.”
Niya’s face changed into one of concern. “I didn’t even think of it from your perspective. I can’t imagine losing two close friends.”
“Let’s go meet the others and get you something to eat. The next couple of days is about Ms. Maizie and Simmonds,” I said to Niya, holding out my hand. I held my breath and waited, hoping she would follow my lead. I couldn’t have this conversation until we could talk in private and I could prepare her to hear what really happened the night Jhavon died.
Her eyes narrowed but she went along with the conversation shift. “We can talk about all that soon enough. You’re right. This is about your friend.” She placed her hand in mine. A sign of her trust. A trust I knew would evaporate if she knew the truth about her brother.
I gave a jerky nod and we made our way to the backyard.
“It feels good out here,” Niya observed.
“Yeah. It pretty much stays summer until close to December. Then it feels like fall to me.”
Her mouth formed an O. “Wow. I could get used to this, and it’s not even that humid.”
I smiled, admiring the light breeze teasing at her dress and hair. The temperature outside was about 82 degrees. Unlike Texas, where the heat could cause small sparks of fire on the asphalt.
There were mismatched chairs across the yard and about six to seven men seated, eating burgers, corn, and barbecue chicken. Latin music played softly in the background. Ms. Maizie had her back turned, tending to the food on the grill.
“Why are you letting Ms. Maizie do all the work, you slackers?” I yelled, lifting a fist. “Hooyah.”
“Hooyah,” they responded, jumping to their feet.
My men swarmed me and I soaked in their warm welcome. I avoided Leroy “Bear” Holt’s pat on the back. Bear had football-sized hands and I knew from experience he didn’t always think about his strength.
Once we all had greeted each other, I introduced Niya to the men and made her a plate. I would eat later. Then I strode over to Ms. Maizie. She had turned to watch all the commotion and waited patiently as I made my way over to where she stood.
The petite, sprightly woman opened her arms, giving me a wide smile. A smile that didn’t cover the sadness filling her blue eyes. “I’ve been waiting on you,” she said. She had a few more crow’s feet around the eyes and a little more gray in her curly hair but Ms. Maizie looked the same. Tears fell from her eyes and her chin wobbled. “My baby’s gone. Just like that. My baby’s gone. He’s not coming back, is he? He’s gone.”
Fighting back my own tears, I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Maizie.”
Her knees buckled. I scooped her close to me to keep her from falling to the ground. Ms. Maizie shattered against me like glass hitting a concrete floor. I hoisted her shaking body in my arms, marveling at the sudden frailty of a woman who had been the energetic bee fluttering from one chore to the next.
Niya came over with napkins in hand.
“Let’s get you inside,” I said, using one of the napkins to wipe Ms. Maizie’s cheeks. Ms. Maizie didn’t argue which was a sure sign of her deep grief. I gestured to Bear to man the grill and I cradled her close. Ms. Maizie buried her head in my chest.
“I didn’t want them to see me cry,” she wailed before engaging into another crying session. It was like once her tears had started, there would be no stopping them. I was glad though because Ms. Maizie needed to release her pain. It was too much for her to keep on the inside.
“Never mind that. You go ahead and cry. No one is looking,” I said loud enough for my men to look away. I began the trek across the lawn. Niya accompanied me and Marshall rushed to open the door.
I enjoyed the cool draft of the air conditioner and placed Ms. Maizie on the couch, still covered in plastic.
