“Type of time I been on since we met that night?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“What have I shown you since we met?” I asked, leaning on the island, staring at her. She was dressed the way I asked her to be. In black leggings, a white shirt.
She frowned and stammered over her words, hesitant to say what she really felt. “I don’t know. I guess… I don’t know. What that got to do with anything?”
I took a deep breath and shook my head, looking off into the living room again. “I need you to leave with Rocc, sweetheart.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and turned the corners of her mouth up before closing the door in our faces.
Rocc got back into the phone, shaking his head. “How you want me to move, Big Dawg?”
I stood up straight and finished cutting the orange. “Wait. She’s coming back out. This time, to go.”
A couple of minutes later, I heard the door open and Rocc flipped the camera, showing me her. She had on a jean jacket, her purse draped over her shoulder, and a pink pocketknife in her hand. She flashed it at Rocc and tossed a few threatening words his way. Instead of taking it seriously, Rocc snorted, laughed a little and got back into the camera.
“Aight bro. I’m on my way?—
“Stay on the phone,” Sereia interrupted. “I want you to see what I do to your mans if he try anything with me.”
I laughed. “Man what?”
She didn’t say anything. Rocc looked into the camera with raised brows and a smile. Neither of us were worried about her little ass. She couldn’t have been no more than 5’2, around 160lbs. She wasn’t a threat. Not with that knife, not even with a blick if she had one on her. Rocc didn’t just run errands andcheck on shit for me; he was security. Very accredited with his shit too. Sereia was out her damn mind.
“Yeah okay,” I said. “I’ll see you in a couple.”
Rocc flipped the camera again and I got a glimpse of the worry in her face. She gripped the strap to her knock off Prada bag and I took a deep breath. Instead of saying anything, I hung up and carried the plate of fruit over to my ma. After sitting it on the table, I sat on the couch and picked my phone back up to call Sereia.
She answered after the third ring.
“Hello?” She asked, sounding puzzled.
“Relax,” I told her, shifting my eyes over to the TV. “What you eat for breakfast?”
She was quiet for a couple of seconds before mumbling, “A sausage and pancake corn dog.”
I frowned. “You eat that fake ass shit?”
“With extra syrup,” she proudly said.
I shook my head and crossed my arm over my chest, slouched down on the couch. “What would you have rather eaten?”
“Huh?”
“If you had a choice, what would you have eaten?”
I was giving her comfort. She was worried so… I called to comfort her. Didn’t really give a fuck about what she ate or what she wanted to eat. She was a worrier. Which again, I understood. She didn’t know me for real. Didn’t know what I had her on. Like me, though, she was moving with faith. Because she was hesitant about leaving with Rocc I knew she’d probably been battling between fucking with me or not, all night. Sereia was apprehensive. Questioned shit a lot. Of course, she did… look at where she came from. Niggas didn’t usually show up on doorsteps with envelopes full of money, help with funeral services, or offer jobs in The Woods. I was an anomaly, for real.She had every right to question what was going on. Especially since it was coming from me and not Solo. I was the mean one. The quiet one. The asshole. Big 6’3, 250lb, intimidating nigga. I wanted her to chill though. She’d done enough worrying and overthinking in her life. I wanted her to be at ease when it came to dealing with me.
“Cheese eggs, bacon and hashbrowns with cheese,” she softly said.
“I bet you be gassy as hell, eatin’ all that cheese. I can’t fuck with it. I’m lactose intolerant.”
She laughed and I smirked. There we go. She was loosening up.
About forty minutes later, the security system let me know Rocc was pulling in. I pushed up from the couch and headed for the front door to let them in. When I opened the door, Sereia turned around to face me. She eyed me up and down and I looked down at myself, wondering if a nigga was dressed weird or some shit. I had on a pair of red hoop shorts and a black beater. On my feet were a pair of my Balenci’s. I was straight. Fuck was she looking at?
With pinched brows, I stepped aside to let her in.
