Page 33 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
“You can’t make the sauce because you can’t fuckin’ cook. How you gonna invite us over for dinner and not have dinner?”
Nia looked up from the second failed attempt and directly at Reign. “You invited him?”
Reign frowned in detest. “No. I don’t even talk to him.”
“Damn, she can form a sentence, who knew?” Markus stated with a dumb smirk across his face.
Reign rolled her eyes and moved further away from him. “What are you trying to make?”
“Alfredo because it’s pasta night which is probably why his ass is here. Cyn is bringing marinara and meatballs. Like surely I can make alfredo, it’s the basic bitch recipe,” Nia huffed, tossing the pan in the sink. “I’m going to order pasta from Maruccio’s.”
Markus poured himself a drink and grunted. “Which is the same thing Cyn’s ass is doing. I could’ve stayed home for this.”
“You were supposed to stay home, Emilliano. Again, who invited you?” Nia questioned, her hands on her hips. “Girls’ night. Meaning we don’t want to see you niggas.”
“Cyn told me her dumbass nigga wanted to apologize for acting like a fuckin’ rookie,” Markus stated, making himself comfortable in the living room. The seat he chose gave him an unobstructed view of Reign.
She picked up on it and purposely moved to the other side of the kitchen. “I can make alfredo. I learned how to do it when I was like ten.”
“Oh, you think you’re better than me,” Nia joked, gladly moving out of her way. “I bought so much butter, heavy cream and cheese. I just knew I could do it.”
“You can, it just requires patience and not cooking on high,” Reign pointed out turning the tap down while Nia moved to get her the things she needed.
“So I figured Cyn coming over will give you two some space to get to know one another. She’s skeptical of new people.”
“Mmm,” Reign buzzed, pushing the sleeves of the hoodie up before remembering what Markus said. She pulled it off andrested it on a nearby chair. “I don’t think it’s new people. I think it’s just her. From the coffee shop to today, I think it’s just her personality and that’s okay.”
Nia couldn’t argue with her, she was right. It was Cyn’s personality. She’d been high-strung ever since B had brought her around. “She’s always been on edge. This life really isn’t one she’s used to. Her family is from upstate. She came down here to take a nursing job, met B in the ER when he got shot and that was all she wrote.”
Reign didn’t see a need to reply. She took the ingredients and started making the sauce and avoiding Markus’ eyes on her. It was consuming and aggravating. He was aggravating.
“Ayo!” Svyn sounded off, walking into the house with a bottle of wine in one hand and a baguette in the other. He strolled into Nia’s space as if it were his, Reign took them in for a second and smirked. “I got wine for the lady of the house and my contribution to dinner.”
Nia rolled her eyes. “Oh great, bread. What’d you get for the nigga of the house?”
Svyn cut his eyes down at her, his lips twitching with a comeback and Nia’s eyes dancing with the need to hear it. There was no denying that she and Markus were siblings, they shared the same need to aggravate people.
“You want to play that game with me? Again?” Svyn grumbled, making Nia almost bite her lip before huffing.
“Get your ass out of my kitchen.”
Svyn smirked and turned his attention to Reign. “What’s good, Reign?”
She offered him a subtle wave and a barely-there smile. “Hi.”
“Money, you owe me a band! I told you she talks,” Svyn called out, exiting the kitchen.
“Boy, fuck you!” Markus fired back. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Reign looked at Nia. “Is your brother…you know. Slow?”
Nia snorted in laughter. “You would think. No, he’s just aggravating as hell. But between you and I, I prefer this version over him stressed out.”
Reign gave a weary smile and muttered. “I prefer no version.”
Focused back on making the pasta, the rest of their group trickled in, turning the mood from slightly lighthearted to strained. Cyn didn’t say a word to Reign before taking the bread Nia sliced and placing into a basket. Reign didn’t take it to heart. She could ignore women with hatefulness in their bones like the best of them.
Everyone surrounded Nia’s dining room table and Markus fixed his plate. A spoonful of Reign’s alfredo and a piece of bread – purposefully bypassing the store bought dishes made without care or love. Not one for small talk or bullshit, he broke the silence.
