Page 20 of Delirium 2

“I’m about to head out. Redd should be here in about thirty, forty minutes with the groceries,” I told her, the MacBook she kept glancing at, tucked under my arm.

“Okay,” she softly said, her eyes fixed on mom’s hair again.

I looked at it. I surveyed her. I noticed how while I was in the middle of working, Sereia changed her out of the black t-shirt, and gray leggings I helped her into. She put her in one of her dresses. Something I hadn’t seen her in, in years. Black with gold swirls throughout it. Knee length. One of the dresses she only wore every now and then. We used to call her ‘bougie’ dresses special sermon dresses. Shifting my eyes from her dress to her feet, I snorted at the black flats. Back in the day, you wouldn’t catch my momma in a pair of flats. It was so bad that Genny had to go out and buy her a couple of pair for when we had to leave the house for doctors’ appointments. That was the only reason Sereia was able to find a pair.

“You changed her clothes,” I pointed out, taking in the jewelry she had on too. Tear drop earrings, gold cross necklace, bangles. Shifting my eyes to her hands, I noticed the wedding rings too. That made my chest tighten a bit. Moms hadn’t worn her wedding rings in a minute. Not because we didn’t want her in them but because we just… shit… we never thought to put them on for her.

Sereia glanced up at me. “I did. Is that a problem?”

I lightly grunted. “Nah. Why would it be a problem?”

She shrugged. “Just making sure.”

“I like it,” I added.

Softly, she smiled, glanced at me, and went back to braiding my ma’s hair. Looking over to the other side of the couch, I noticed one of her wigs. “She goin’ somewhere?” I joked. “You know you gotta tell me before you⁠—”

“On a walk. That’s it. Dressing her up to make her feel good. You look good, you feel good. First Lady⁠—”

“What?” I interrupted. “What you just call her?”

She stopped braiding and looked up at me with furrowed brows. “First…lady,” she hesitated to say. “If it’s unprofessional⁠—”

I shook my head. “Nah… nah, you… you good. Keep doing what you’re doing, Sereia. I appreciate the fuck out of you shorty. No lie.”

Her face softened and a smile threatened to touch her lips but instead she looked away and her fingers got to moving again with the braids.

I clenched down on my teeth and inwardly thanked God. Sereia didn’t know it, but she was a fuckin’ angel. A true ass Godsend. Literally. When I say I’m locked in with Big G, I’m dead ass locked in with dawg. He’s never stirred me wrong. I knew that when I was told to hire Sereia… when I felt compelled to pray for her and shit like that, that it was for a reason. For a reason I didn’t understand at the moment but reasoning that made perfect sense today.

* * *

“Did you do what I told you to do?” I asked Redd, as I pulled up in front of Kiss’ crib. Would have parked in the driveway but because the nigga was a car collector, there was no room for the truck.

“Yeah, she was pissed but I got what you asked me to get. Skewers, pancake batter and sausage links. The best shit, too.”

I killed the engine and sat back against my chair. “Good lookin. You took the bags to the back of the house so she wouldn’t have far to walk to⁠—”

Redd laughed. “Yeah man. I got you, Big Dawg. I took care of her. Double bagged… got the best shit… everything you asked for.”

I nodded. “Bet.”

“You need anything else before I go?” He asked.

I thought about asking him to swing over to Jada’s hood to keep an eye on her, but I quickly dismissed that. Shorty wasn’t my issue anymore.

“Nah, I’m smooth.”

We hung up and I unhooked my seatbelt, getting out of the truck.

On my way up to the crib, I tugged on my beard, taking notice to an unfamiliar red Tesla. With a smirk, I put two and two together. Kiss had company. Only bitch he let touch his doorstep was Ramani. I thought about turning around and leaving, not wanting to deal with their shit. But said fuck it. I’d come this far; I was sitting down with the nigga.

I jogged up the stairs and tapped on the door a couple of times. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my shorts and surveyed the neighborhood. Bro lived in Jamoca City, MI, one of Everly’s most prominent black neighborhoods. To stay in Jamoca, you had to make crazy bread. Which wasn’t a problem for bro. Obviously. The thing about it was, the governor didn’t give a fuck about blacks, so the property tax and the price tag on everything out here was outrageous. I didn’t too much give a fuck about Jamoca, although it was a nice ass spot for blacks, I was cool on it.

There was a target on Jamoca City. It was just about twenty minutes outside of Brickhaven. All the young hitter niggas swung around this way to steal from their own people. Was easier to hit them than it was for them to go across the bridge to hit the rich white muthafuckas.

After standing there for a couple, the door opened and Kiss let me in. Before stepping in, we did our handshake.

“What up doe, fool?” I spoke, with a smirk. “Got company?”