Page 117 of Anything Necessary for Her
“What you think, a nigga got the best of me?” I smirked.
“I hope not. That’s why I’m asking. I can’t hand my daughter off to a nigga that can’t fight.”
“I think you know that ain’t the case, Mr. St. Thomas,” I assured him, and he nodded, awaiting my explanation still. “My mother. She got mad at me because I told her she would have to go to rehab. She an alcoholic.”
“For how long?”
“Since almost forever. Last time I remember her not being a drunk was when I was in elementary school. But ever since I was ten, she been an on-and-off alcoholic. She had moments where she’d sober up for like half a year straight, but once my baby sister turned three, it’s been consistent. It’s a shock she ain’t dead yet.”
Prime nodded, and when I glanced his way, his lids were low as he held the cigar between his lips.
“If she been getting sauced since you was a fucking kid, how was you getting by? Where ya pops?”
“I been getting by because of me. I never met my father and don’t know that nigga. Wouldn’t recognize him if he walked up on me and made conversation.” I blew out smoke. “From ten, I started robbing stores and shit to feed myself and kept on until I was old enough to work in order to feed my brother. Themdepartment store jobs and fast-food gigs wasn’t enough money, though, and that’s how I got into hustling.”
“With Sif.”
“Yeah. When I came in, though, I was wild as fuck, and he put me in line. If it wasn’t for him, I’m sure I would’ve been dead or in jail. I was so focused on getting paid and nothing else. He taught me how to be low-key, make this shit last and work for me for as long as I needed it to. Showed me how to not just make petty cash to eat, but how toeatfor real. I been straight on the money tip ever since.”
“Glad to hear that,” Prime replied, looking over at me. I could tell he was studying a nigga, fighting with himself internally on whether or not to stamp me with an approval for his daughter.
“Mr. St. Thomas?—”
“Prime or P is good.”
“Prime, I lo—like yo’ daughter a lot. I don’t even think I’ve ever liked a woman as much as I do her, because I ain’t ever felt anything like this. She make me wanna do shit I ain’t used to doing and makes me wanna sacrifice in ways I never would for a random female. I get excited waking up just because I know at some point, I’m gon’ see her or talk to her. I don’t even know what the fuck I was doing before I met her.” I peered down at the smoking cigar between my fingers, speaking the last line of my statement more so to myself. “I respect her and Sif way too much to play around when it come to her. She’s too special, and Sif too real for me to do either of them dirty.” I finally picked my eyes up to lock with his.
He inhaled on the cigar, then asked, “You love my daughter? I heard the slipup.”
I’d been hoping he’d ignore the shit, the same way Banks had done the few times I’d almost said it.
Shrugging, I responded, “I think so. I don’t wanna make her think she gotta return my affections though.”
“Well . . .” He ashed the cigar and sighed, interlocking his fingers as he pressed his elbows into his thighs. “One thing about Banks is that she loves her family, so if she’s willing to live with disunity among us to be with you, she loves you. I know my daughter, and she’s not willing to risk her people that she cares for dearly just to be spiteful or for any old nigga.” His eyes pierced mine as he spoke, the same way his daughter’s often did. “Tell her.”
“I don’t want her to lose her people behind me, but I also can’t let her go,” I admitted. “As selfish as that shit may sound.”
“She not gon’ lose nobody. That ain’t in our nature to stop talking over some shit like this. For one, you seem to really wanna do right by her, and secondly, if I or her brothers felt you was gon’ bring her harm, we’d just murk you. Wouldn’t be no estrangement over you ’cause you’d be a memory.”
I nodded with a smirk. “Nah, not unless I murked one of y’all first.”
His brows kissed his hairline as he took me in momentarily.
Expelling a breathy chuckle, he said, “As badly as I wanna wring yo’ fucking neck for that comment, I wouldn’t want my daughter with a different type of nigga.” He sipped some of the alcohol from his dinner glass that he’d brought over. “I didn’t wanna say this, but I like you. I like that you don’t stand down when it come to her and you being with her, but you also know how to show some respect. I like that you give a fuck about her restoring shit with her family while also not playing pussy and surrendering the relationship. I like that you brought yo’ ass here tonight and acted like you had some sense, all for the love of my daughter,” he confessed. “Fuck.” He grunted before we guffawed in unison. “I don’t even wanna hear Sif’s mouth.”
“He gon’ gloat for sure,” I said, and Prime bobbed his head, concurring. “You need to be honest, though, and tell her you love her.”
“Eh.” I shrugged again, staring out at the night sky and mountains, noticing how peaceful that shit looked.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to use my money to buy a peaceful ass but big ass home. Have Banks as my wife and some kids in that bitch too.
At the moment, my house was simply something nice my siblings, mama, and I could lay our heads in. It wasn’t special to a nigga, and crossing the threshold didn’t immediately provide me with solace.
“Why the hesitance? You think I don’t know my baby girl?” he queried.
“I’m just not the lovable type, and I don’t wanna make her lie nor do I want to mess up what we got by the thoughts I start having because she ain’t say it back.” I ashed my own cigar, polishing off my whiskey.
“Who told you that you not the lovable type? I hope you not assuming that shit because of ya father. As a father, I can tell you any nigga who abandons his child ain’t do it because of the child; it’s because he ain’t a man. That child could be predicted as the future Kobe Bryant, and that nigga still wouldn’t stick around to raise him.
