Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
“Don’t you get too close to this man until I’ve met him.”
“Yes, Grandma.”
"I mean it. I don't care how handsome he is or how much money he got. If he treats you wrong, he's done."
"I know, Grandma. I promise."
"Good." She sighed. "Speaking of Japanese men, we got a bunch that appeared in Charleston a few days back. Many of 'em live right in my neighborhood now."
My blood went cold. “What?”
"Yes, ma'am. Came here and bought up Suzi Mae Jenkins shack for triple the price! Now why did they do that? That place is a trash heap. Suzi Mae took that big check fast and flew straight to the Bahamas. She sent me a picture this morning with her at the bar. In her hand, she got one of those little drinks with the umbrellas in it. Now she too old to be doing all of that. Got some young Bahama man smiling next to her. Younger than her grandson. You know he ain’t got no good sense in his head and going to do everything to help her spend that check. Praise Jesus I told her—”
“But grandma, hold up.” My heart boomed in my ears. “Japanese guys are in the neighborhood?”
“Right across the street. And not bad looking either. Nice suits. Pretty lean, but got some muscles. If grandma were thirty years younger this would be a problem for them. . .not me. You know Grandma was out in those streets back in the day.” She began laughing.
“Hold on, Grandma. Give me one minute.” Terrified, I quickly muted the phone and turned to the guards. "Can you check with Reo? I need to know if he sent men to Charleston to watch over my grandmother."
The guard with the scar nodded and lifted his wrist to his mouth again. "Reo, the Tiger wants to know if men were sent to watch over her grandmother."
A pause hit.
Next, Reo's voice came through, clearer now and more awake. "Yes. I sent ten of our best men to South Carolina. They bought the house across from hers. Their sole purpose is to make sure the Tiger's grandmother is comfortable, at peace, and safe."
My throat tightened.
Ten men.
A whole house.
All to protect one woman who didn't even know she needed protecting.
Reo continued, "Tell the Tiger that there are also people positioned around her mother. And we have additional people in Rikers Island prison in New York, keeping watch over her father."
My breath caught.
My father. . .
I hadn't spoken to him in several years or moreover he hadn’t spoken to me since I wrote that book about him. But hearing that Kenji had people watching him made something complicated twist in my chest.
I hated that I still wondered how my father was doing. Hated that some small part of me wanted to know if he was okay.
"Tell Reo thank you."
The guard relayed the message, and I heard Reo's response. "Tell her she's welcome. And remind her. . .one hour."
Right. The curfew to get back to Kenji's arms.
I unmuted the phone and returned to my call. “Hey, Grandma. Sorry. I’m back.”
“Are you busy, baby?”
“Oh no. I just had to check something. So go back to telling me about the men in the neighborhood.”
“I’m going to find out if some of them are single because they look to be closer to your age—”
“Oh no. I’m good, Grandma—”
“They're so nice, baby. Fixed my fence that's been broken for two months. And they look to be patrolling the neighborhood too, keeping everyone safe at night. Must be a cultural thing. I like it. We need more Japanese people around here with the way these youngins be out here with them guns acting like they’re gangsters when they’re not."
I headed down the stairs and tried to imagine ten Japanese men in expensive suits patrolling my grandmother's predominantly Black neighborhood in Charleston.
I pressed my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh out loud.
The guards behind me remained silent, but I could feel their presence—steady, professional, and completely unaware of the comedy unfolding in my head.
Oh God.
I could see it so clearly. Mrs. Patterson across the street probably had her curtains pulled back, watching these suited men walk the block at night.
Mr. Johnson—with his old, nosy ass—next door with those stupid binoculars was definitely asking questions.
And the church ladies?
They were probably having an emergency meeting about it right now, speculating over too sweet tea and pound cake.
"They're very respectful," Grandma continued. "I get out the car with my groceries, and they run right over to take them. And from what I’ve seen, they don’t do that for anyone else, so they’ve definitely taken a liking to me. One of them—sweet young man—said he's going to paint my porch for me tomorrow. You know I had those cans of white paint sitting out there for a month waiting for No-good Roger to do what he said he'd do. These boys gonna do it tomorrow. For free. Such nice young men."