Dark caramel skin. High cheekbones. Soft, brown eyes the color of my favorite Hennessy. Full beard that probably looks so good covered in pussy juice. Long, thick hair woven in intricate braids that stop at his shoulders. And thatbody. All those dips and divets and muscles rippling when he gets out the pool, making all them tattoos move. He was probably born in the gym.
Jesus.
I mean, all the niggas Dal and Brina be around are fine, don’t get me wrong. But it’s something about Shotta that just makes your clothes start disintegrating. That man is fine,and can sing.
What I’d give for him to sing me happy birthday.
He walks around to the fridge and takes out the ice cream labeled with a peanut, and I can’t help but snort. Shotta’s been living here for a couple months, and he and Peanuthead are always doing little things to get on each other’s nerves. I guess it’s Peanuthead’s turn to be mad because he doesn’t play about his ice cream or wings.
“I had a craving for some mint chocolate chip. ‘Sup Mace?”
I stick more ice cream in my mouth and smile, which makes Dal shake her head. You’d think that in these past couple months of him living above the garage and me in one of the guest rooms, I’d stop acting so starstruck. But I can’t help it, I swear!
This has never happened before.
I’ve always had the upper hand. With everyone. Especially men. My mom says I was born with a big mouth and the confidence to match. So this new and persistent shyness is embarrassing.
Dal’s ass eats it up. Peanuthead eyes me like I’m a weirdo.
At least Shotta doesn’t feed into it.
“Put Patrick’s ice cream away and have some of ours. I don’t have time to be playing referee with you guys this week.” Dal glares at him with her mama glare and he rolls his eyes but obeys her. He grabs a spoon out the drawer and bumps her shoulder to take some of our sundae.
“What’s this sundae for? New clients?”
“Nope,” Dal gets another scoop. “Macy’s having a girl.”
Shotta turns to me and the smile that grows on his face… it’s taking everything in me not to become a puddle.He’s got a fuckingdimple! On the apple of his right cheek.
God don’t play fair.
“Good shit, Mace. All these girls… me and my bros gone have to go to the range soon.”
I feel my eyes narrow, and cock my head to the side. But before I can say anything, Dal bumps his shoulder.
“You think Brina’s having all girls too?”
“Shit, the way everyone else is, I wouldn’t be surprised… you gone tell the dad?”
The ice cream in my mouth turns into sand but I choke it down and set my spoon on the counter. “I conceived via immaculate conception.”
Something passes through his face before it turns carefully blank. “C’mon, Mace, you not the Virgin Mary. You can’t hide him forever.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Dal’s shaking her head so hard it’s about to fly off her shoulders.
“I’m not hiding him. He doesn’t exist.”
“Okay, Mace.” He stands, grabs our spoons and puts them in the sink before leaving out.
“How is he?” I ask once the door closes. Him collapsing into a seizure on the BirchFest stage was all over the blogs for days. People speculated drug use and all, even though the official statement was extreme dehydration. Shotta’s always had that quiet confidence about him, really only animated while performing, but even now, when we see him around the house, he’s subdued. Withdrawn.
And that’s if he even comes out of his dwelling.
Dal puts her spoon down. “To be honest… I don’t know.”
Shad
Theroomsmellslikeeucalyptus and lavender. I guess that’s supposed to relax me enough to tell all my deepest darkest secrets.
Instead, I slouch on this comfortable ass couch and stare at the clock on the wall behind my therapist.
