~Zoey~
So not to appear leery as I got out of the truck, I decided to first retrieve the gifts. As soon as I closed the driver’s door, I clicked the fob to lock the truck. Observing the block of desolate and some abandoned homes, I clicked again to unlock the trunk. Once the cargo door was lifted open, I clicked to lock the truck again. Jordan was in the back seat, sleeping soundly. I didn’t want to disturb him, but I also felt the need to be extra cautious with having him on the Westside of Brick City.
Once I had the gifts in hand, I headed to the back seat to retrieve his baby bag then unhook him from the base of the car seat. When I locked the truck for the last time, I gathered Jordan by the handle of the car seat, lifted the gifts, and wobbled up the stairs to the address my mom had given me the night before. While swaying my way up the cemented stairs, I caught the captivated eyes of the neighbors sitting on the porch. It was nearly noon, but the block was relatively quiet. I rang the doorbell and waited…anxiously.
Hurry up, please…
“Yo!”
And there it was.
I turned my head, not my body, to the nosey neighbors and found a chocolate, thin framed young man who could be no more than seventeen. His hair was unkempt, knotted with gray matter interspersed. His eyes were big and yellow, though he appeared very sober. There was crust about his mouth and I could tell he’d just recently awakened for the day.
“That’s StentRo’s seed?” he asked.
I don’t know why but my eyes rolled down to Jordan before I shook my head. Was that a mistake? Should I have lied? Would we be attacked or robbed because of who his father is? I didn’t know the etiquette of handling Stenton’s fans, or enemy’s, from his famed celebrity I’d been thrust into recently with Jordan.
“Oh, shit! Could I come see?” he asked, clearly excited.
“Leave her alone, T-Murder,” admonished the humpty dumpty figure of a woman next to him, seated on a stoop too small for her frame.
T-Murder?
Her demand was too late. T-Murder was on his way over to us. I rang the doorbell again, even more impatiently.
Come on!
“Oh, shit! Lil’ money look just like Stent! Tash come see this lil’ nigga!” he cried with sheer excitement.
I gasped and the door finally opened.
“Tyrone, I know I didn’t just hear that derogatory word fly from your mouth regarding my great-nephew!” Stanley stated in a warning manner.
“Oh, nah, Uncle Stan! It’s just that lil’ man look just like him.” T-Murder—because that’s what I was still stuck on—was still gushing.
I knew this because I could clearly see the beam in his crusted eyes and twitch in his white crusted lips. Oddly, that morning’s messy display thawed me. Stanley, on the other hand, wasn’t taken at all. He grabbed the gift bags and pivoted to welcome me into his home. I lifted Jordan and followed his command, not missing the words of caution he issued T-Murder before closing the door.
“I’m sorry about that,” Stanley offered from behind.
I was too busy trailing my gaze against the old pictures hanging from the wall. There were lots of them, far more than normal, causing me to take Stanley for a sentimental man.
“I’ve been in this house more years than you have on this earth, young lady.”
He must have caught my fixation. I didn’t reply, just moved Jordan out of the doorway and wandered over to a weathered picture of two young boys no more than eight…who heavily resembled Stenton.
“You and his dad…”
“…were twins, yes,” he offered from behind me.
I didn’t startle at his wit. I couldn’t remove my gaze from the photo.