“That is lung cancer.”
“Your generation don’t know nothin’ ‘bout good shit.”
“My generation know the importance of oxygen,” I countered, smirking.
“Crazy how you know that, but you don’t know when you ‘bout to get punched out.”
I put my hand up to block the jab as soon as he threw it.
Laughing, I backed down. “Aight, aight, I’m off your cigars.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause you down here talking about everything but what you need to be talking about.”
He leaned against the bar, sipping his drink in silence. Rushing to words had never been his thing. He’d always taught me to think before I spoke so that when my words did comeout, they were what I wanted to say, not what I thought people wanted to hear.
Eventually, I found my words. “I met someone.”
“Kinda figured that the moment you paused. And your mama texted me before you came in.”
I shook my head. “What she say?”
“I’ll read it to you.” He picked his phone up and unlocked it. “Our son got something he need to get off his chest. Don’t go trying to beat him at figuring out what it is. Just listen and wait till I get in there to give your opinion.”
We both smiled.
“That lady there…”
“Don’t know how to do nothing but run shit,” he finished.
“Facts.” I chuckled.
“Tell me about this someone you met.”
My smile widened. “Key… well, Kyiris. Kyiris Sullivan.”
His head tilted and brow creased. “Any relation to Ace Sullivan?”
“His niece,” I confirmed.
“Oh, shit. Small world.”
“Yeah.”
“How is she? I know them Sullivans personally, and all them muthafuckas a handful. And I say that respectfully.”
“Key is definitely that. Cool as hell though. She say what she want, challenges me word for word, and she have me dying laughing. She make me think, hell, assess forreal.”
He nodded. “That’s dangerous.”
“Hell yeah. Especially when somebody make you question something you’ve been certain about.”
“I brought cobbler with some ice cream,” my mother announced, walking in with two plates, setting them in front of us.
Seeing ice cream made me think of Key’s favorite flavor.
“Is he smiling at the ice cream?” she asked my father, standing next to him.
He looked over at her and nodded. “He is.”
