Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Hey, Montana.” Adelle’s gaze sucked me in, ready to pass a good time.
“Why you here?” My land had more private property signs than a prison yard. Gates on gates. “How you know where I live?”
“Genèse—”
“Bet.” I nodded, planning my cousin’s funeral. I scrubbed the back of my neck. “Look, ever since high school, we linked up fresh off a breakup.” Her breakups. Not mine. “You said you didn’t want to be tied down, remember?”
Adelle’s smile slipped. “I was seventeen, Montana.”
My momma would light me up if she heard this, not because of Adelle. She always told me just to not play with nobody’s daughter. And truth was? I’d been lying to myself for years, thinking I wasn’t the bad guy.
There were freaks. Some of ‘em acted like they ain’t never had no daddy.
There were good girls like Zuri.
Then there were women like Adelle … who never set the bar. Never said she wanted more. And I didn’t step up.
It was time to step up now. Couldn’t let Big Country keep acting a fool.
I swallowed. “I’m sorry, bébé. I care too much for Zuri.”
Her whole face dimmed, right before I eased the doors shut.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang again.
I muttered curses, dropped the remote, and proceeded to the entrance.
I flung the doors open without checking, and my expression could’ve murdered someone. Then I cleared my throat. “Momma—”
“Why you invite that sorcière over, huh?”
Damn, over here calling the woman a sorceress. I held up my hands. “I didn’t—”
“I bring Zuri and the bébé home, and we see her driving off. I coulda snatch her face. Her whole face.”
I had to juggle this like double Dutch. Jump in when safe. “Momma … I ain’t invite Adelle. She appeared.”
“Oh, she appeared? This a magic show? Poof! She appear in ya living room with red lipstick after you got snappy with Zuri? Non, non.”
I stuttered, fumbling like a rookie at bat. “I-I—”
“Hush! Ya non have nothing to say. I’m the momma. Ya think I care about whatchu say, because ya make those home runs? Oh … ‘Big Country’ bringing jezebel spirits in the house, not yah?”
I winced.
“Don’t play with me. Ya have Zuri sidelined for a sorcière.” She sighed, then stepped past me, strolling into the kitchen.
“Momma, you want a cold drink?” I rushed forward, smiling. “Swamp juice?”
She sat on the stool, leaned her elbows onto the marble ledge, and massaged the back of her neck.
“Momma, bébé, you ain’t supposed to put your elbows on the table.”
Her eyes turned to slits.
No jokes, it is.
I poured her some water anyway, placing it in front of her, and leaned against the sink across from her. “Momma.”
“Boy, don’t make me shame—I raised you better.”
Okay. Progress. She didn’t switch to Louisiana Creole in anger—proper Miss Virginia adjacent.
I said, “Don’t know nothing about Adelle swinging by. Zuri ain’t tell me her last name. Or the name of Darius’s dad. She’s evasive!”
“Pah. She need to tell you about her past? For why?”
“She’s working as a waitress, not using that 3X head.”
“3X …?” Momma sipped her water, then light and comprehension danced in her eyes. “Boy, stop it!”
“Can’t. She has too much potential for HC&PP. She’s …” I glanced toward the line of French doors, as if I could see past the rolling hill, the horse stables, and into my momma’s cottage. See … her. “She’s stubborn.”
“Consider the emotions behind it. Why she set in her ways?”
“Yeah …”
“Non, non! Zuri is smart. Sweet. The girl makes you laugh, Montana. When was the last time a woman made you laugh?”
“Madison—”
“Not family did that? Maddy’s my daughter-in-law until I die.”
“No woman ever made me laugh,” I replied, brave enough to answer. “I’m not feeling her secrets. Gotta know her last name. Have you asked Darius about his dad?”
“I’d never.”
Me either. Little Dude had no filter, but she’d trained him well. “I think his dad put hands on her. The other morning. We were … I mean, I … checked her for scars.”
“When I arrived?” Momma smirked.
“Yeah. She might’ve had scars not everyone could see.”
Momma chortled, stared at me sideways, then her attention panned across the room. “See that rolling pen.”
“Always so violent. Who rubbed off on you? Ezek—” I cut myself off with a fake cough. Damn, Zuri and her jokes. “Sorry, Momma.”
She took another sip of water. “Bébé, say his name. Ezekiel. I done forgave him a long time ago. Best you learn to forgive, Son. You never know how long you’ve got to forgive him.”
My shoulder lifted. “If he dies tomorrow—”
“Not for him! For you, Montana. Some people been abused all their lives. The fool dies, and they still hold on, keeping evil alive in their hearts. Whatchu think that does?”
“Momma. The dude reeked of prison. Then he walks up to me, says, Good game. Like he ain’t once told me to stop playing that white-boy game when I was a kid!”