Page 24 of The Key To His Soul
The men in our family weren’t raised like that. India knew he wouldn’t hit her either. Which is why she always pushed it to the limit.
“You ain’t beating shit!” she spat. “Get my son.”
“He won’t, but you know for a fact I will.” I made clear, stepping in front of Jay, making her take a step back. “The same son you claim you want is the same son you didn’t even acknowledge when he pulled up. But you a bad bitch. You want your son, go to my car and get him.”
I moved to the side to give her space and me the opportunity. Her eyes shifted to Jay, then to me, then she looked behind herat security. Only she didn’t need to be concerned with the guys. It would be me putting hands and feet on her.
“You know what? Y’all stay thinkin’ y’all betta than somebody. And the only reason I’m not snatching my son up out that car is because I don’t wanna scare him. But what you,” she pointed her long acrylic nail at me, “need to remember is that I’m Jamison Jr.’s mother. And the only people that have authority over him is me and this nigga.” She pointed at Jay.
“First off bitch, we both know that ain’t the only reason or a reason at all. You ain’t inched towards this car cause you know what I’ll do to you in this parking lot. Now, I don’t know who you tryna convince that you actually want the title of mother, but there’s dogs out here with full litters of puppies that I would call a mother before calling you one. And so long as that little boy sitting in that car has our last name and Sullivan blood running through him, I’ma be here. So, miss me with the authority shit. And yes, yes, I am better than you.”
She rolled her eyes and looked past me at Jay, like she was expecting him to jump in. But by the way he was standing, I knew he just wanted her to get the hell on.
“Fuck it. Jay, if you don’t have my son home tonight, we gon’ have a problem. And not in the streets, nigga. In court!” Storming back to her car, she hopped inside and peeled off so fast, she almost side swiped his Porsche.
“If she would’ve hit my car, I swear to God I would’ve shot one of her tires out. Wit’ her dumbass,” he spat.
“She wasn’t dumb when you fucked raw. Even after Grandma Lettie told you,‘Make sure you strap up twice with that heffa.’”He cracked up laughing at my imitation of our grandmother.
“She dead said that shit and hadn’t even seen her face.”
I shrugged, opening my car door. “Said she didn’t have to. She didn’t like the way she chewed her gum over the phone.” Isnickered. Grandma Lettie never gave a fuck and wasn’t afraid to let you know. “What time you picking him up?”
He glanced down at his watch. “Gimme two hours. He ate already. Snacks are in his bag, and the tablet is on a timer. He only got thirty minutes left on YouTube before the parental control kicks in.”
“Okay. Let me hurry up and get him to the house before then. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Aight. Thanks again for coming through, big head. Love you.”
“Don’t I always? Love you too.” Getting in my car, I reversed out of my parking spot and headed home.
Despite Jay’s obvious poor choice in women, my cousin was a great father. He didn’t play about his sons, and it showed in the way he made it his business to be there for them even on days when he felt lost. It was Jay who’d first pointed out the difference in development between Justin, his older son, and Baby Jay. While they were just two years apart, Justin seemed to reach milestones quicker than Baby Jay. India’s ignorant ass took it as him trying to compare one son to the other like some silent competition, while Jay was clear that if something was wrong, he wanted to catch it early.
I watched him do his due diligence, even with her trying to fight it. He got the answers he needed and a diagnosis that made things clear. Jay fully engrossed himself in all things autism in order to learn the ins and outs of the disability. And he stayed on top of everything to make sure his son was heard and understood the best way we all knew how. Because if there was one thing you could count on a Sullivan to do, it was to meet you where you were and love you through some shit.
It wasa little after eleven when I turned the TV off in the living room and headed for my bedroom. I was taking it in early tonight. Jay had come by to get Baby Jay later than he said he would, and being the forward thinker I was, I already had him bathed and in pajamas when he arrived. The moment that two hours turned to four, I knew Jay had gotten caught up at the distillery. I let him slide this time, even though his son had run me ragged. The way he’d fallen asleep on his own, sprawled out on the floor, was pure evidence of that.
I reached for my phone on the coffee table when it chimed just before I picked it up. A small smirk tugged at the corners of my lips when I saw the name on the screen —Eric The Eater. It had been a minute since I’d heard from him, and I was willing to bet that it had everything to do with his bruised ego. Eric Chisholm was a Senior Investment Banker and used to having his way with women due to his status and the money that came along with it. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t a bitch that was easily impressed or moved by money, especially not when I had my own.
What started out as casual dates, spontaneous trips, fuck sessions that left him in awe, and what I thought was a mutual understanding somehow made him think that exclusivity was a no brainer. It wasn’t. Not with me at least. See, it only took for me to have to remind a nigga that I was single once to know that he wasn’t with what I was putting down. And unfortunately, Eric couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was dating a woman who kept options. I respected that and didn’t take offense when he disappeared. I didn’t chase after him either.
Now, let’s not confuse my wanting options with me being a ho because I was far from that. I was intentional when I dated. I liked to peruse my men like the toppings at a salad bar. Sometimes, I wanted a little bit of this and a little bit of that. And it was on rare occasion that I gave this pussy up. Oh, but when I did, I most certainly knew how to make a nigga feel like he was the birthday.
EricTheEater: Long time no hear from. You feel like coming to sit the prettiest pussy on my face tonight? I miss her.
I smiled and laughed under my breath. Being subtle had never been one of his strong suits. However, he had me at sitting my pretty pussy on his face.
Me: Look at you, remembering one of my favorite pastimes. I’d be delighted to come and wet that beard up, sir.
His reply came back instantly.
EricTheEater: I can taste you already. Where should I send the car?
“Oh, dear, Eric. How soon you forget who you’re talking to,” I said out loud to myself, already catching on to his attempt to be slick. He knew that by arranging transportation, it made it more likely that I’d stay the night. But I knew the game. I’d grown up with the elite players.
Me: No need. I’ll drive myself. Just send the address. And leave the key at the front desk.
EricTheEater: Will do. See you soon.
