Chapter 75: Come & Gran Canaria

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Please excuse ANY grammatical errors.


October 6, 1996

~DeVanté P.O.V~

"The hell you say under yo breath?" Pops asked and I ignored him and kept walking. The moment I got in the bathroom, I snatch a rag from the shelf, wet it with soap, and scrubbed the hell out of my face.

All this because of these drunk ass niggas. Today was supposed to be MY day. A celebration of ME being my best. Me being sober. Yet, these niggas arrive at my house drunk as fuck. At this point, I don't care who gets caught in or told on. I need new friends because this ain't it. Messing with them will probably end with me relapsing and shit. I don't need that. I'm done with that mess.

After I finished, I went to the kitchen because I'm now pissed at pops and ain't want to be in the same room as him. That's another thing, since I was the oldest, I was ALWAYS held responsible for what the other two did. If he wanted to know where Dalvin was, all his ass had to do was look outside.

"You need some help?" I asked from the other doorway. Gospel music filled the room but it played low.

Mama turned around. "YOU want to help YOUR MOTHER in the kitchen?" She laughed. "I haven't heard you ask me that since you were ten. Come on!" She motioned.

"What you need me to do?" I asked.

"Chop those onions. Do you know how to do that?"

That's one of the only things I learn to do when it comes to cooking. I remember when Tia made me help her cook. I chopped up everything. That day was hilarious, from JoJo, who was not invited, eating up the food, to him noticing my bandaged finger and asking if I had AIDS when he was damn near done eating! I laughed. "Yeah, I can do that?"

"Why are you laughing so hard?" My mama said with a smile.

"I just thought of something from a while back."

"I got nothing else to do. I'm all ears." She asked stirring the pot. "We haven't had a one-on-one conversation in a while."

"We haven't." I nodded and grabbed a knife. "I had a friend stay at me and Dalvin's house. She made me help her cook-"

"A woman? Was it Rolita?" She asked me with a smile. You see, my parents like Rolita WAY more than me. Rolita is just a fling and I only have one interest in her. That is sex.

"Nahh, it's another girl," I replied.

"I never met this 'FRIEND' of yours. What's her name? Do you still talk? Close?" She asked me.

"We not close no more but we speak here and there. This was back in '92 I believe. She made me cook. I had to chopped onions and bell peppers. It was a difficult process and I ended up cutting my fingers all up. JoJo-"

"Hand me the knife son." She said holding her hand out with the other on her

"What? You didn't even let me finish." I said offended.

"Hand me the knife, son." She said in a stern voice.

"WOW!" I said in disbelief. "So you don't want my help?" I asked.

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