“What up?” He asked, voice high and low because of puberty.
“I’m looking for Miss Erica,”
“Yo, who is that?”
I heard another voice yelling at the door. This voice was deeper, and another kid stepped into my view. He was older, maybe nineteen or twenty.
“What’s up? What do you need?” he questioned me with his nose turned up.
“I’m here for, I’m guessing, your mom, Erika,” I said, locking eyes with him.
“What do you need with her?”
I watched this boy’s movements, his face, the way he talked, and it felt like I was looking at someone I knew. If I’m being honest, he reminded me a lot of Mecca, which tripped me out completely.
“My bad, I actually need to roll out, something has come up.” I backed down the stairs and jogged back to my car. Now that I know where my mother is, I now have even more questions that need answering.
Did those two boys belong to Mecca? Was I not really the last living Quatar in New York?
Chapter 17
Jasmine
“Can I help you cut up anything, sister?” I asked Pernelle as she chopped up some vegetables on her cutting board.
“Nah, sis, that’s okay. Everything is chopped up because Ciara came by earlier and did it for me. I appreciate you, though.” She bumped me with her hip.
“Oh, of course, your bestie did it already. She does everything for you and keeps me from being able to be sister in law of the year.” I joked, with a little truth behind my smile.
“So, is my nephew going to make it to the cookout today? You know, we are letting the kids jump in the bouncy houseonce my mama brings them back today.”
“No, I haven’t heard from him. I called his dad today to ask him to call me, but he hasn’t. He’s really starting to get on my nerves, P. I would hate to have to take his ass to court after all.”
“Well, we may have to and trust, Crew and I will be backing you a hundred percent. We will get you the best lawyers and run that nigga name through the mud in the streets so bad that his mama won’t even want to be a character witness.”
Pernelle made me laugh.
Our small talk was interrupted by the sound of the guys coming into the house down the hall. I recognized Hov, Crew’s voice, Bam, and of course Amir.
When Crew walked into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around Pernelle. Hov spoke, “What up?” Followed by Bam, “Yo, Jassy. P.”
Amir’s smooth, respectful ass shook hands with Pernelle and then came over to hug me so gently that I almost melted right off the fuckin bone for him.
“Y’all need some help in here, P?” Bam asked, looking over the pots.
“No, we don’t. I got it from here, and I’m about to show you how to really get down on these ribs.”
Bam rubbed his hands together.
“I’m ready to see. Shit, if these ribs are better than mine, then I may need the recipe for my restaurant.”
“When you opening up your restaurant, Bam,” I asked.
“The fifteenth of never-fuckin-uary.” Crew interrupted before Bam could even answer, but Bam found that shit funny.
“This hating ass nigga just talking shit, but next year sometime.”
“Don't save your appetite for that day, you will starve to death, but let’s head to the backyard to smoke this so called fire Hov grew outside.”
