The woman lifted her hand into the air. “Hi!”
“That’s Angela, Annika’s best friend,” Sicily said, before pointing back at me. “This is Deon.”
Angela waved. “Hello, Deon.”
I waved back. “Hi.”
“All right. Come on, man. I’ll introduce you to my folks,” Sicily said before heading inside. I nodded at Annika one last time, earning myself a seductive look before she turned around and made her way back to her friend.
We stepped through the front door into an entryway with more shoes than I had ever seen in my entire life piled up along the walls. Sicily kicked his shoes off and added them to the group, and I did the same, though I was careful to set mine together and placed them neatly off to the side of the fray.
“How old is Annika again?” I asked.
“Sixteen, but she’ll be seventeen in a couple of months.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
“Oh, no disrespect or anything. She was making eyes, so I wanted to know how much to avoid her,” I said with an awkward chuckle.
Sicily shrugged. “Hey, Annika’s a catch, man. I’m not one of those creepy stay-away-from-my-sister types. You two could do much worse. Want me to put in a good word?”
“Uh.” My gut reaction was to say no as Cherri skated across my brain, but in the month since we came close to sleeping together, she’d made no evident attempts to leave The Royal Court behind. That ship probably sailed. “Yeah, maybe.”
“I know you’ve got the whole thing with Cherri, so don’t do it if it’s just a rebound thing.”
“No, there’s not really anything to rebound from,” I replied. “I need to start moving on, so why not with someone as beautiful as Annika?”
Sicily smiled. “There ya go!” He made a robotic noise and lifted his arm to either side of his body. “Wingman-mode activated.”
“Okay, weirdo,” I huffed back.
We walked out of the entryway and into a huge, open living room. Three identical kids, maybe about ten or eleven years old, were situated directly in front of a large, flatscreen television, all with video game controllers in their hands. They were all wearing varying hoodies and were difficult to distinguish from one another. Sicily whistled, and they looked over in unison. It was borderline creepy.
“Hey,” Sicily said. “This is my friend, Deon.”
“Hi, Deon,” they resounded.
“Shit, that’s weird,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.
Sicily chuckled. “Yeah. Those are the triplets. The far one’s Max, the middle one’s Mina, and the closest one’s Mave. Mina and Mave are girls. I know it’s hard to tell. Max is trying to figure some stuff out, currently using they-them pronouns.”
“Not a problem,” I said, offering a quick wave before following Sicily through the back of the living room, through a dining room, and into a big, open kitchen. The second I was smacked in the face with the amazing smell of seasonings and fried food, my stomach started to growl. “Oh my god. It smells so good in here.”
“Yeah. Mom’s a cook. Like a legit one. She’s got her own place and everything,” Sicily replied. “Ma!”
A woman standing at the oven turned around and smiled. She looked like a slightly aged version of Annika, though with shorter hair. She had a form that I refused to believe had birthed twelve children. She didn’t even look old enough, so I was beginning to convince myself that it was actually another one of Sicily’s sisters, but he walked over, kissed her on the cheek, and greeted her again as his mother before turning to face me.
“Ma, this is my friend, Deon. Deon, this is my mom, Nijah. Do not call her Mrs. Luciano because she’ll hit you, I’ve learned,” he introduced.
“I will,” she added. “Nice to meet you, Deon.”
“Nice to meet you. I have to say, you do not look old enough to have twelve children,” I said.
She laughed. “Oh, well, thank you. I don’t have twelve children. Tank here came out of me, but the older five came from their father’s first marriage.”
“That makes no difference,” I said with a laugh. “Seven kids is still crazy.”
“Yeah, well, we like big families, what can I say?” She tapped Sicily on his head. “Why don’t you take Deon up, and I’ll bring dinner up when it’s done?”
“Okay. Thanks, Mom,” Sicily said, then nodded in the direction of the other door out of the kitchen, and I followed.
He led me up a flight of stairs, introducing me to two more younger kids as we went, Bella, a preteen with lighter hair and a face still similar to Sicily, and Vio, a kid of maybe seven or eight that looked nothing like Sicily with borderline blond hair. I was assured Vio looked just like their dad. We walked down a long hallway with doors on both sides, and when we got to the last one on the left, Sicily opened it and led in.
There were two beds in the room, one against each wall. Sicily pointed at one that didn’t appear to be recently used and said, “You can sleep there. It’s my older brother Jamie’s bed, but he started college this year. Dorm life. I can’t wait.”
I set the bag I’d packed down on the bed and sat down on it. There was a TV on a dresser with a Playstation next to it and a small bookcase between the two beds with a picture on top of Sicily and a man that looked like he could be his twin. “Is this Jamie?” I asked.
“Yeah. I know things are a little chaotic around here now, but Jamie is like a walking tornado. God save his roommate this year. I love him, though. He’s my bro.”
“You’re the oldest in the house right now?”
Sicily sat down on his bed. “Yeah. You met everyone who lives here now, except for my dad, but he works the night shift. Jamie and our even
