Page 37 of Gotta Jones For Ya
“I already know, Ma,” I told her mama. “I like when you call too. You be keepin’ her grounded.”
Her mama smiled at the screen. “That girl needs somebody to remind her she ain't too grown. She has always been hard-headed.”
“Still is,” I added, takin’ another pull.
“Still on FaceTime!” Nyla snapped, smackin’ my stomach playfully. “Okay, lady, I’m about to eat. Call you later.”
“You better,” her mama said, then winked at the screen. “Keon, I want a plate next time.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, grinnin’. “You locked in.”
She ended the call and I placed Nyomi’s phone down on the island. “You’re gettingtoocomfortable with my mama and y’all only met on FaceTime.” She gave me the side eye type shit.
I shrugged, hittin’ the blunt again. “She like me.”
“She doesn’t fully know you, crazy ass,” she teased.
“She don’t need to. She know I make you smile like that.”
She looked at me sideways, but I saw the smirk she tried to hide. She laughed and stepped in front of me. “You always got a motive.” She wrapped her arms around my waist, pressed her body into mine. Her lips kissed my jaw. “Are we doing movie and card night, or are we skipping right to bed after dinner?”
I tilted my head, gave her that look, exhalin’ smoke. Lately, her ass been wantin’ dick every second we got near each other. I loved that shit but I was used to our routine. Call me corny but fuck it. I loved that shit too. “Now you know we gotta stick to routine.”
Her smile was soft but slick. “I guess.”
That was our vibe now. We didn’t live together, but we moved like we did. In between us makin’ money and shit, I was either in Arbor Hills at her spot or she was in East Hollisstretched across my bed or my couch. We did date nights at bougie ass places and I brought her ‘round my niggas and my family a lot. Took her to some art shows and her ass even read me a couple of them smutty books while I rubbed her feet. We took turns bein’ in each other’s worlds. My briefs were in her dresser. Her lashes stayed on my sink. And don’t let me even think about movin’ her pink toothbrush. Shit was war.
“Movie time,” she said, grabbin’ a plate and headin’ to the couch. “I wanna watch that new Netflix drama romance.”
“Yo, you picked last week.”
“And I’m picking again this week. I’m in the mood for something lovey dovey.”
“You always in the mood for that shit.”
“Better than Belly,” she shrugged, settlin’ in.
I damn near dropped the cup of Don I just poured up. “Watch your mouth.” We got to eatin’, but it wasn’t no quiet, candlelit type dinner.
She was sittin’ cross-legged on the floor, plate in one hand, cup in the other, poppin’ shit about how I don’t ever win at nothin’ when we play games. Big talk for somebody who barely knew the rules to Spades a couple weeks ago.
I was across from her, leaned back on one arm fuckin’ up a piece of salmon. Lickin’ my lips, I muttered, “Talkin’ crazy for somebody who just learned what a reneg was like two weeks ago,” I muttered, grinnin’.
She finished a spoonful of mashed potatoes and flicked her wrist. “I’m beating you tonight. Watch.”
I chuckled. “Aight. We finna see.”
We ate and washed it down wit’ that bougie lemonade then pushed the food to the side and set up two-handed spades right there on the carpet. Corny ass movie still playin’ in the background, a slow R&B and trap mix on the Bluetooth speaker, and a blunt burnin’ between turns.
“You sure you're cutting hearts?” she asked, squintin’ at the hand I just threw down.
“Stop playin’ wit’ me, Ny.”
“Don’t cheat.”
“I don’t gotta cheat to beat you, baby,” I grinned, showin’ my books.
Moments later, Nyomi leaned forward, brows raised, lips pursed, and said loud as hell, “You reneged, Keon. Uh uh! That’s a book off!”
