“Nigga, you lucky it was your ass,” I said as I embraced him for a bro hug.
“Or what?” He joked. We looked at each other then he laughed because he knew I had them hands.
“Yeah, you know,” I said.
“You right. I don’t want them hands. You got that, but I saw you crossing the street and called your name. You seemed to be in lost thought. Aye- hold on real quick.” He said before taking his iPhone out and answering it. “Where you at? Well, I hope you know, grandma said if there is another incident, you are coming with me and I ain’t allowing none of that shit you pulling go down over here. I’m not playing, Kay.” He said before I tuned him out.
Maroon and I went to school together and always remained cool. I wouldn’t call him my best friend, but it damn sure seemed like it since we’ve been friends for a long time, and he was like my right hand. We grew up just alike with struggling backgrounds, but when we were in middle school, his mother gave him and his sister away to their grandmother. And after that, he seemed cold-hearted except towards his sister and me. Education was no longer his focus, and he only showed up to the school to eat and keep his grandmother off his back. When we graduated from high school, he went right into the streets full time, and I found a 9 to 5 to support my family. He was forever trying to get me on with him, but that street life wasn’t for me, and my parents would kill me before I even said yes. My mother didn’t care what kind of job I had as long as it didn’t involve the streets. Once Roon turned eighteen, his grandmother let him bounce and do his own thing. I know he was working them corners for a minute, but word around town was that he ranked up and was calling some shots now. I don’t know if he was the direct plug or not, but I definitely saw the glow-up and admired it. Even now, his brown skin ass was rocking a damn lime-colored du-rag, black Henley Helly coat, black sweats, and Balenciaga sneakers. His jewelry was minimal today; diamond earrings, watch, and chain. Niggas always clowned him, saying he was a pretty boy because of how well he kept himself groomed.
“See you when I get home. Love you.” Roon said before ending his call.
“That was your lil sister?” I asked him while he put the phone in his pockets, then took the blunt tucked behind his ear and lit it.
“Yeah, man.” He said then took a couple of pulls from it. He took a couple more than handed it to me.
“Nah, man, my job is randomly testing,” I said.
“Shit, my bad bro. More for me, but I got something to help make sure urine is clean.”
“I’m good, man. But how is your sister doing? I haven’t seen her in years.” I said
“She’s good. She’s getting too grown though, acting like she's thirty or something. And always in some shit with her fake ass best friend. Grams getting old and tired of it, so I told her if she can’t put up with it anymore, I’ll get her ass. I’m hoping Kay gets it together because I don’t know anything about raising a teenager. Shit, I’m only twenty years old myself. And all of the shit I got going on is not a good environment for her, but that’s baby sis, so I’ll do whatever.”
“I get it. I’ll do the same for my little sisters.”
“Facts. So what’s up with you?” He asked, continuing to smoke.
“Man, Aniyah is stressing me out. She pressing me for a ring now. And I don’t why. We always said once we got better jobs and a place of our own, we would eventually get there, but now she is rushing shit.”
“Don’t rush marrying her ass. Propose when you are ready.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m nowhere near ready. But that’s not really what’s bothering me.” I said and regretted it instantly. I wasn’t sure about sharing what else Aniyah said, because I wasn’t trying to look like a sucka. I couldn’t be crying about having woman problems in front of my boy.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Uhh, nothing, man. It’s just relationship shit, you know, shit you avoid.”
“Right because I don’t have time for that emotional shit. You, my boy and all, but the way Aniyah be having you stressed, makes me happy that I don’t have a main joint.” We laughed. Roon wasn’t into relationships because he felt like it was too much maintenance to keep up. Still, I think it’s because of my sister, Raquel, who broke his heart about three years ago. I don’t know the exact details, but he was definitely hurt afterward, and since then, he avoided love.
“Yeah, fool. I’ll get up with you later. I need to go get these kids from Ms.Brenda.”
“Ms.Brenda is still watching kids?” He asked, finally ending his blunt.
“Yeah, in the same apartment, around the corner.”
“Damn, I ain’t even know that. I got some guys set up shop in that building. If I would’ve known she was babysitting your kids, I definitely would’ve picked another building. I’ll get on that ASAP.”
“Appreciate that,” I said then dapped him. We talked for another five minutes before I left to get my babies.
∞∞∞
“Hey, Ms.Brenda. How were my babies today?” I asked as she opened the door. She smiled then moved aside to let me in. Ms.Brenda was the neighborhood babysitter and always had a crib full of kids. She used to watch my siblings and me whenever my mother was working late. She was in her late fifties and still looked good for her age. She always reminded me of light-skin Aunt Viv from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
“Hey baby, they were fine. Spoiled as ever.” Ms.Brenda said.
