Page 148 of Mia

“Mmm hmm. Whatchu want? Where my boy at? You ain’t did something to him, did you? You calling me to hide a body?”

“Booker, please be for real. If I did anything to that man, you would be the last person I'd call to hide a body.”

“Why? I’m sufficient.”

“Because I’d end up hiding yours.”

“You cut me deep, Mia. You cut me real deep,” he sighed. “What can I do for you, sis?”

“Somebody wants to tell you something.”

“Who?”

“My mama.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “She wants me, don’t she? She ready to leave that old nigga alone and fuck with a young stallion?”

“Boy, bye!” Ms. Maddie said.

“Is that my baby? Hey, Ms. Maddie with your fine self. How you doing, my love?”

Ms. Maddie rolled her eyes as Mia turned the phone on her. “I’m well, Andrew,” she said, calling him by his first name.

There was disdain in his voice as he spoke to Mr. Bronx. “Sup, old head? You treating my lady right? You know I’m in there if you ever screw things up.”

Mr. Bronx laughed. “I’m sure you would be, Booker. I know you’d take care of her.”

“See, Ms. Maddie. Even your man knows that.”

“I’m about to hang up on your ass.”

He laughed. “What do you need to tell me that you couldn’t call me for?”

She held up her ring in the camera. “We’re getting married.”

The line went silent. I peered over to look at the camera, and he was just sitting there with a blank expression.

“You okay, my nigga?” I asked.

He blinked. “I gotta go walk my fish.”

He hung up the phone, and we all broke into laughter. I knew his was probably crashing the fuck out right now, and I was gonna have to hear about this shit for the rest of my life.

“You know he’s gonna object during the wedding, right?” I asked.

“I will shoot him. As a matter of fact, don’t tell him when it is. I’d hate to strip Jacqueline of her only son.”

Booker was absolutely gonna find a way to show up to this wedding and find himself being dragged out.

We continued eating while Mia and her mother talked wedding things. All I heard were dollar signs, but shit, Mr. Bronx could afford it. Something told me he was going to give her the wedding of her dreams and spare no expense while doing it.

After dinner, we retired to the patio. Mr. Bronx turned on the fire pit and we sat around shooting the shit. It wasn’t long before I noticed a disturbing look on my wife’s face. She sat up next to me, clutching her stomach. When she started to heave, she quickly got up and ran inside to the bathroom. I followed behind her. When I walked in, she was on her knees in front of the toilet, bringing up everything she’d consumed.

I held her hair and rubbed her back as she tried to get it all out.

“You might be coming down with a stomach bug,” I said as she flushed the toilet.

I helped her to her feet and sat her on the counter so I could clean her up. “How long have you been feeling like this?”