“I know yo’ ass ain’t been out the country,” Nash shot back. “You still on papers?”
Thank God he wasn’t.
“Nah. I’m off,” Heavy answered, pushing open the last bedroom door.
The spare room wasn’t used for much besides storage and what Heavy needed it for. A twin bed sat pushed against the wall, with a dresser in the corner, and a closet that held more than clothes. It wasn’t decorated like the rest of the house.
“Bet. So, what’s up?” Nash pressed.
Heavy stepped fully inside, leaving the door open.
“Shit. Let me think about it. I got a few things to handle,” he replied.
“Man,” Nash dragged, already knowing he was faking. “You gon’ always have shit to handle. That ain’t gon’ change whether you here or not.”
He had a point, but so did Heavy. Knowing the type of person his cousin was, Nash needed an answer from him today, or he’d never get one. The trip would be forgotten, and he’d bring it up months later.
Pushing the twin bed over just enough to expose the loose floorboard beneath it, Heavy crouched down to lift it. “I hear you, cuz. I do. Let me line some shit up, and I’ll let you know. When is it?”
“Around Christmas time,” Nash replied. “That’s when baby girl gon’ be out of school, so I’m trying to take advantage of the time.”
Heavy nodded as he reached down and pulled out the first black duffel bag, setting it on the floor. “Yeah… I might can fuck with that.”
“A’ight. Might do you some good to get away and clear your head for a few days, too.”
Heavy couldn’t argue with that. The idea of being somewhere quiet, relaxing in the sun, with his feet in the water didn’t sound like a bad idea. It’d give him some space to breathe without constantly checking his surroundings or thinking three steps ahead. That’s exactly what Nash wanted his cousin to do. It made no sense to be getting all the money they were getting and not enjoying it.
“Send me the info,” he said, unzipping the bag. “I’ma check it out. It’s just you and baby girl?”
“Nah, her mama and a friend of hers. I think her sister or cousin is coming too,” Nash said, not knowing the guest list. “You think Mesha would wanna bring her and the kids?”
Heavy nodded, already knowing his sister, niece, and nephew were hopping on a flight if he was.
“Hell yeah. You already know she would.”
“Bet. I’ma have Candice send you everything. What’s your email?”
Heavy rattled off the community center’s main email address, grabbed the second duffel bag, and pulled it out from beneath the floorboard.
“You still ain’t figured out what you doing with the center?”
Heavy paused for a second with the bag halfway open. Nash wasn’t the first person to ask him that. Or something along the lines of it. He probably wouldn’t be the last either.
Heavy was still trying to figure out why the responsibility had been placed on him. The answer was obvious when he first got out, but after Dre was killed, his motivation to get it up and running had dwindled. He didn’t see the point if his right-hand man wasn’t there with him. Since then, he’d been heavier in the streets and out of the way, pushing the promises Gramps wanted him to fulfill to the back burner.
“Nah, not for real,” he admitted. “Just sitting on it until I’m ready to invest for real.”
He tossed his phone onto the bed so he could move around freely, pulling out stacks and laying them out across the mattress.
Nash wasn’t trying to be preachy, so he saved what he really wanted to say for another day. He still laced him with game, though, and his helping hand.
“Understood. When you get the ball rollin’, you know I’m all in. That’d be a good look.”
Heavy knew that. He’d seen its potential, then watched it shatter right before his eyes and in his lap.
“Fasho. I’ma hit you when Candice sends me that email, though,” he said, ready to get to work.
“Bet. Love you, cuz. Be safe out here,” Nash said.
