Page 3 of A King’s Obsession

My eyebrows pulled together. “What about it?”

“Y’all are behind.”

I laughed, but there wasn’t anything funny about the sudden tightness in my chest. “No, we’re not.”

“Yes, you are,” he answered firmly.

“That don’t even make sense. I gave my mama money for the rent.” I sat up straighter, trying to keep my voice down even as my frustration started rising.

“Well, she hasn’t given it to me.”

Everything around me seemed to go quiet.

Even Tasha must’ve noticed the change in my face because she stopped counting money and looked over at me. I stared at the bottles lined up behind the bar while my mind started going backward, trying to remember every time Mama had asked me for money over the last few weeks.

“When was the last time she paid you?” I asked, my voice noticeably quieter.

“Beginning of last month. And even then, she was short.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Last month?”

“Yeah. I’ve been calling her about it, but she either doesn’t answer or tells me she’s gonna bring it by.”

When Mr. Harris told me, my stomach dropped.

Hell no.

I’d given Mama money twice since then. Once when I got paid. Then again when she told me we were still short.

I could see both moments clear as day. Mama standing in the kitchen telling me we needed a little more to get caught up. Me going into my account knowing damn well I couldn’t afford to pull anything else out but doing it anyway because having somewhere to live mattered more than whatever I had planned for that money.

If Mr. Harris was telling the truth, none of it had made it to him.

“Are you sure?” I asked, rubbing my forehead as if that might somehow change his answer.

“Jru.”

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. The way he said my name, tired and almost disappointed, told me everything I needed to know.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Anger was already crawling up the back of my neck, but underneath it was something worse.

Fear.

Because being mad at Mama wasn’t going to make the rent magically appear. Whatever she had done with the money, Mr. Harris still needed to be paid, and I already knew who everybody was going to expect to fix it.

“How much do we owe?” I finally asked, bracing myself.

“With what was left from last month, this month’s rent, and the late fees? Twenty-one hundred.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen before pressing it back against my face.

“Twenty-one hundred dollars?”

“That’s what y’all owe me, Jru.”

For a second, I couldn’t even speak.