Page 39 of All In

Jackie’s momma had taken Max for the weekend, which surprised her.

The woman didn’t miss Friday night bingo for nobody. But Jackie knew this impromptu babysitting gesture had Kormia’s name written all over it. She could picture it now—Kormia begging, bribing, and charming her way into getting her mommato agree. If there was one person that old woman couldn’t say no to, it was her baby sister’s only child. Now, Jackie’s house was finally quiet.Too quiet.Jackie told herself she was gonna chill tonight and finally take advantage of having the house to herself. Max had Face Timed her twice since being at her momma’s, both times complaining about the food. “Mommy, Mom-Mom made gizzards again. Please, can I get Uber Eats? Just one time.

”After the third call, Jackie gave in, ordered his spoiled behind a personal pizza and fries, and figured that’d be the last she’d hear from him until Sunday. The plan had beensimple. She should’ve been relaxing. Practical Magicqueued up on the TV—one of her low-key favorites, especially in the fall. A pre-roll in the ashtray. Buttery microwave popcorn. Loose sweatpants. A chilled glass of Honey Peach Stella.Autumn Vibesby Replica burning on the coffee table. Just one quiet, kid-free night to herself.But no.Instead, she was bent over her bathroom sink, sucking in her stomach, trying to zip up this little,and she meant little—black corset dress she had pulled from the back of her closet. A light beat on her face, lashes curled, edges laid. She even ran a few curls through her hair—soft, bouncy, with just enough body to make it look like she had somewhere important to be. And she did.

“Bitch, you really got me doin’ the most,” Jackie muttered at her reflection, tugging the zipper the rest of the way up. Kormia had sworn up and down that this new hookah lounge in Olde City was the move. Some exclusive spot fresh on the scene. Classy. Not on the YNs’ radar yet.

“It’s upscale, sis. Very low-key,” Kormia had said, voice full of promise. “No broke niggas, no bottle girls fighting over sections. Strictly big spenders. We got VIP, bottle service, the whole nine.”

“Courtesy of who?” Jackie asked, side-eyeing her. “My gentleman friend, Mr. Cleotis,” Kormia replied, not meeting her eyes, “and a few of his homeboys from D.C.”

“Cleotis?” Jackie repeated, dragging the name out like a curse word.

“Girl, his ass sound ancient.” Kormia rolled her eyes.

“He older, yeah, but he solid. Jamila introduced us.”

Jackie’s expression stilled. “When you start talking to Jamila again?”

“I mean, if you and Syxe can fix y’all relationship, why can’t me and Jamila?” Kormia responded, intentionally not meeting Jackie’s eyes. Jackie wanted to laugh. To warn her. To say,because Syxe ain’t a male-centered, clout chasing, superficial, deadbeat groupie hoe that burns bridges everywhere she go.

But shedidn’t.Some lessons had to hurt. So she said nothing. Kormia filled the silence. “Anyway, Cleo and his homies are some grown-ass men. No baby mamas, no drama. Just money, vibes, and a good time.” She smiled, standing behind Jackie in the mirror. “And you overdue for a good time , cuzzy,” she added softly. “Let somebody take care of you for once.”Maybe she was right.Jackie thought.One night outside wouldn’t kill her. Maybe she’d laugh, enjoy herself, and just breathe without feeling guilty for it.Jackie studied her reflection one last time. Then she heard the black truck pull up outside, she sighed, and finally said, “fuck it.” She was almost certain Kormia was withholding a key detail about the night, but at this point, Jackie was doing it for theplot.

Sliding into the back seat, Jackie found Kormia already in rare form—1942cracked open, ring light clipped to her phone, grinning like she’d just pulled off a heist. “Baddie, baddie, shot o’clock!” she sang, tipping the bottle toward Jackie’s lips. Jackie took the shot, smooth but burning, feeling it warm her chest.“Kormia, these niggas better not be a mess,” Jackie warned, laughing but dead serious.

Kormia smirked. “Just trust me. You gon’ thank me later.”

Kormia had already taken control of the aux cord, Nicki Minaj’sFTCUblasting through the speakers as the city lights blurred past. Jackie leaned back, let the bass vibrate through her chest, and snapped a quick selfie—her first story post in weeks. Captioned:??Outside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JACKIE

Jackie hadn’t been “outside” in over a year.

Everything was the same, the lights, the noise, the people. But Jackiewasn’t.Once upon a time, outside was her playground. Jackie Brown was a name, a face, and a vibe. People knew her, loved her. She could walk into any spot in the city and feel the whole room shift, like gravity itself was in on the secret. But after the shit Marcus pulled, the streetsweretalking. Nobody ever addressed it directly—at least not to her face. But Jackie wasn’t stupid. She heard the whispers, even when she tried not to.

And truth be told,outsidedidn’t hit the same anymore.

It would’ve been easy to blame everything on Marcus, but that wasn’t the whole of it. Jackie found herself going through a bit of a metamorphosis. She was growing and evolving in ways she never thought she would. She still liked to be out, still liked a good time—but her idea of fun had changed.

At thirty-five, standing on couches, drunk, screamingfuck my baby daddyinto somebody’s camera wasn’t in her spirit anymore. Jackie wanted peace, not spectacle. Somewhere she could breathe easy, sip something smooth, and listen toVictoria Monetin a dimly lit lounge instead of tussling with a young bitch over a hookah. Now, stepping back into it felt like wearing a pair of shoes that didn’t fit anymore. Her feet hurt because she hadn’t worn heels this high in a year. The dress was a lot shorter, andtighter—than she remembered. Sure, she was snatched, and the body wasbodying. But the dress felt like astraitjacket.On top of that, she was hungry, cold, and would’ve much rather been in her Walmart muumuu—titties hanging, a sleeve of Oreos on her lap, sippin’ her Stella, and scrolling through Danielle Allen’s latest. But no. Here she was.Outside.With half the goddamn city.

And to make matters worse? Kormia had the damn Isley Brothers waiting on them. Old men in linen suits, Stacy Adams, gold chains, and Kangols, waving at them like they’d just spotted their long-lost girlfriends at a cabaret. Jackie tugged at the hem of her corset dress, heat creeping up her neck. “I know you fuckin’ lying. You did not drag me out my house to party with the Five Heartbeats.”

“Bitch, hush,” Kormia shot back, waving her hand like she was offended.

“These old niggas got money, businesses, pensions, and paid-off mortgages.”

“As they should,” Jackie said flatly. “Mia, they are retirees.”

“Well, we here now,” Kormia said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

“And as you can see, the shit look like a movie in here tonight.”

“A horror movie,” Jackie muttered, watching as Kormia waved to one of the older men on the low. She followed her cousin’s line of sight and immediately grimaced.

“Mia, don’t tell me you be letting that old-ass man fuck on you?”