But the damn phone rings.
Everybody else is outside, leaving me to answer. I shove a chicken wing in my mouth. “Hello?” I chomp in the other person’s ear. Rude? Definitely. Am I starving? Hell yeah.
“Hi, this is the front security gate. Iesha Robinson is asking to visit your residence.”
I stop chewing. Iesha was MIA at Seven’s graduation, which she was invited to, so why did she show up to the party she wasn’t invited to? How did she even find out about it? Seven didn’t tell her, and Kenya swore she wouldn’t. She lied and told her momma and daddy she was hanging with some other friends today.
I take the phone outside to Daddy because, shit, I don’t know what to do. I go out at a good time too. He’s trying—and failing—to Nae-Nae. I have to call him a second time for him to stop that atrocity and come over.
He grins. “You ain’t know your daddy had it in him, did you?”
“I still don’t. Here.” I hand him the phone. “That’s neighborhood security. Iesha’s at the security gate.”
His grin disappears. He plugs one ear and puts the phone to the other. “Hello?”
The security guard talks for a moment. Daddy motions Seven to the patio. “Hold on.” He covers the receiver. “Your momma at the gate. She wanna see you.”
Seven’s eyebrows knit together. “How did she know we’re here?”
“Your grandma’s with her. Didn’t you invite her?”
“Yeah, but not Iesha.”
“Look, man, if you want her to come back for a li’l bit, it’s cool,” Daddy says. “I’ll make DeVante go inside so she won’t see him. What you wanna do?”
“Pops, can you tell her—”
“Nah, man. That’s your momma. You handle that.”
Seven bites his lip for a moment. He sighs through his nose. “All right.”
Iesha pulls up out front. I follow Seven, Kenya, and my parents to the driveway. Seven always has my back. I figure he needs me to have his too.
Seven tells Kenya to stay back with us and goes toward Iesha’s pink BMW.
Lyric jumps out the car. “Sevvie!” She runs to him, the ball-shaped ponytail holders on her hair bouncing. I hated wearing those things. All it takes is one hitting you between your eyes and you’re done. Lyric launches into Seven’s arms, and he swings her around.
I can’t lie, I always get a little jealous when I see Seven with his other sisters. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But they share a momma, and it makes things different between them. It’s like they have a stronger bond or something.
But there’s no way in hell I’d trade Momma for Iesha. Nope.
Seven keeps Lyric on his hip and hugs his grandma with one arm.
Iesha gets out. A bob haircut has replaced her down-to-the-ass Indian import. She doesn’t even try to tug her hot-pink dress down that obviously rode up her thighs during the drive. Or maybe it didn’t ride up and that’s where it always was.
Nope. Wouldn’t trade Momma for anything.
“So you gon’ have a party and not invite me, Seven?” Iesha asks. “A birthday party at that? I’m the one who gave birth to your ass!”
Seven glances around. At least one of Uncle Carlos’s neighbors is looking. “Not now.”
“Oh, hell yes now. I had to find out from my momma because my own son couldn’t be bothered to invite me.” She sets her sharp glare on Kenya. “And this li’l fast thang lied to me about it! I oughta whoop your ass.”
Kenya flinches like Iesha already hit her. “Momma—”
“Don’t blame Kenya,” says Seven, setting Lyric down. “I asked her not to tell you, Iesha.”
“Iesha?” she echoes, all in his face. “Who the hell you think you talking to like that?”
What happens next is like when you shake a soda can real hard. From the outside, you can’t tell anything is going on. But then you open it, and it explodes.
“This is why I didn’t invite you!” Seven shouts. “This! Right now! You don’t know how to act!”
“Oh, so you ashamed of me, Seven?”
“You’re fucking right I’m ashamed of you!”
“Whoa!” Daddy says. Stepping between them, he puts his hand on Seven’s chest. “Seven, calm down.”
“Nah, Pops! Let me tell her how I didn’t invite her because I didn’t wanna explain to my friends that my stepmom isn’t my mom like they think. Or how I never once corrected anybody at Williamson who made the assumption. Hell, it wasn’t like she ever came to any of my stuff, so why bother? You couldn’t even show up to my graduation yesterday!”
“Seven,” Kenya pleads. “Stop.”
“No, Kenya!” he says, his sights square on their momma. “I’ll tell her how I didn’t think she gave a damn about my birthday, ’cause guess what? She never has! ‘You didn’t invite me, you didn’t invite me,’” he mocks. “Hell no, I didn’t. And why the fuck should I?”
Iesha blinks several times and says in a voice like broken glass, “After all I’ve done for you.”
“All you’ve done for me? What? Putting me out the house? Choosing a man over me every single chance you got? Remember when I tried to stop King from whooping your ass, Iesha? Who did you get mad at?”
“Seven,” Daddy says.
“Me! You got mad at me! Said I made him leave. That’s what you call ‘doing’ for me? That woman right there”—he stretches his arm toward Momma—“did everything you were supposed to and then some. How dare you stand there and take credit for it. All I ever did was love you.” His voice cracks. “That’s it. And you couldn’t even give that back to me.”
The music has stopped, and heads peek over the backyard fence.
Layla approaches him. She hooks her arm through his. He allows her to take him inside. Iesha turns on her heels and starts for her car.
“Iesha, wait,” Daddy says.
“Nothing to wait for.” She throws her door open. “You happy, Maverick? You and that trick you married finally turned my son against me. Can’t wait till King fuck y’all up for letting that girl snitch on him on TV.”
My stomach clenches.
“Tell him try it if he wants and see what happens!” says Daddy.
It’s one thing to hear gossip that somebody plans to “fuck you up,” but it’s a whole different thing to hear it from somebody who would actually know.
But I can’t worry about King right now. I have to go to my brother.
Kenya’s at my side. We find him on the bottom of the staircase. He sobs like a baby. Layla rests her head on his shoulder.
Seeing him cry like that . . . I wanna cry. “Seven?”
He looks up with red, puffy eyes that I’ve never seen on my brother before.
Momma comes in. Layla gets up, and Momma takes her spot on the steps.
“Come here, baby,” she says, and they somehow hug.
Daddy touches my shoulder and Kenya’s. “Go outside, y’all.”
Kenya’s face is scrunched up like she’s gonna cry. I grab her arm and take her to the kitchen. She sits at the counter and buries her face in her hands. I climb onto the stool and don’t say anything. Sometimes it’s not necessary.
After a few minutes, she says, “I’m sorry my daddy’s mad at you.”
This is the most awkward situation ever—my friend’s dad possibly wants to kill me. “Not your fault,” I mumble.
“I understand why my brother didn’t invite my momma, but . . .” Her voice cracks. “She going through a lot, Starr. With him.” Kenya wipes her face on her arm. “I wish she’d leave him.”
“Maybe she afraid to?” I say. “Look at me. I was afraid to speak out for Khalil, and you went off on me about it.”
“I didn’t go off.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Trust me, no, I didn’t. You’ll know when I go off on you.”
“Anyway! I know it’s not the same, but . . .” Good Lord, I never thought I’d say this. “I think I understand Iesha. It’s hard to stand up for yourself sometimes. She may need that push too.”
“So you want me to go off on her? I can’t believe you think I went off on you. Sensitive ass.”
My mouth flies open. “You know what? I’m gonna let that slide. Nah, I ain’t say you need to go off on her, that would be stupid. Just . . .” I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t either.”
We go silent.
Kenya wipes her face again. “I’m good.” She gets up. “I’m good.”