Though some things were still up in the air, like what the place was about to become and what it would be called once it wasn’t just Mr. G’s Community Center anymore, Heavy couldn’t even focus on that right now. He was just glad to have pulled it off. To anyone else, pulling something together like this on such short notice might’ve felt impossible. To Heavy, it was everything aligning perfectly.
Once he had his mind set on something, it was nothing but motion behind his plans moving forward. Thankfully, everyone who lent a helping hand was on the same page. The right people had shown up, the right conversations happened, and the right doors opened.
“You right,” he said, nodding to himself more than anything. “I can’t do nothing but accept that.” He glanced over at Mama Dot. “You good? Everything running smoothly in the kitchen?”
She hummed, adjusting her pearl bracelet. “Mhm. Almost everything. One of the sinks in the main bathroom is leaking.”
“A’ight. I’ma go look at and try to get a plumber out here tomorrow.”
Mama Dot lightly shook her head. “You don’t have to wait that long. Mr. Joe is out there right now.”
Heavy paused. “He still be fixing up everybody’s houses?” By now, he was sure the older gentleman had retired.
“Sure does,” she replied. “You can’t tell him to sit down. Standing right out there waiting on somebody to give him something to do.”
A small grin pulled at Heavy’s mouth. “Sounds like someone else I know,” he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
Mama Dot playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, hush. If I sit down, who’s going to keep everyone in check around here?”
“I guess we’ll never know.” Heavy smirked, turning toward the exit. “Let me go holla at Mr. Joe real quick.”
The noise from the gym trailed behind as Heavy pushed through the double doors. It wasn’t as loud in the hall as people stood around, talking in small groups. Jasmine’s two youngest ran up, greeting him with hugs. Rick was playing in the next game, and they couldn’t wait to cheer their brother on. Heavy glanced as he walked around, searching for Mr. Joe.
“Man, there you go.”
He turned at the sound of Dre’s voice, catching him coming down the hall with a bottle of water in his hand. He’d been there for a little over an hour and needed some cool air from the outside heat.
“What’s up. Everything straight?” Heavy asked, stepping toward him.
Dre nodded. “Yeah. You been on the move since I got here, nigga.”
“I know. Every time I turn around, somebody is calling my name.”
Heavy wasn’t complaining, just stating the obvious. Mama Dot warned him how chaotic it would be, so he appreciated this quick breather. Dre looked him over for a second, smirking as if he’d just confirmed something to himself.
“You really did your thing with this, bruh. Proud of you.”
“‘Preciate that. A nigga was nervous like we were when we hit our first lick.”
They smirked, recalling the days when they were young and grimy, trying to line their pockets. The true terrorizers of the block had come a long way.
“Man,” Dre dragged, chuckling, “my stomach was rumbling like a mothafucka. This is different, though.”
“Not for real. I walked into this shit blindly, too, not knowing the outcome.”
Dre spread his arm out, motioning to all the people. “Looks like a damn good one to me. Mr. G probably up there grinning, happier than a mothafucka.”
Laughing, Heavy couldn’t help but agree. “Hell yeah. I lowkey think him and Mama Dot was fucking around while I was away.”
“Shit, I wouldn’t put it past them. He was an ol’ fly nigga, fasho. Mama Dot is a looker still. She was a baddie back in the day.”
“Nigga, how you know?” Heavy asked, humored.
“You know them old heads at the shop be talkin’. Fuck all that, though,” he said, switching topics. “What time this over with?”
“We put five on the flyer, but you know how that shit goes. Folks gon’ still be mingling and shit. Why?”
Dre grinned as his phone vibrated with a text, and a woman with a cold, jet-black pixie cut stopped in front of them.
