Deju're

Chapter Seven

For the first time since bullets started flyin', silence actually felt good.

We'd made it halfway to the airport before moms finally took the exit toward a little side street diner tucked under the freeway — the kind of spot locals guard like a secret, where the neon sign buzzes like a drunken bee and the smell of fried everything floats in the air like a hug.

Raquel was still curled up against me in the backseat, hands on my chest, breathing steady now instead of fast. When we stopped, she peeked through the cracked window and whispered:

"...We at Jackie's?"

I grinned.
"Yeah. Mama must really trust you — she don't bring just anybody to Jackie's."

Moms cut the engine and looked back at us over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"Y'all gon' sit in the car all day or come eat? I just dodged a full tactical squad and my blood sugar low."

Her voice was sharp, but her eyes had softened.
Raquel giggled.

Inside Jackie's, everything felt like a different universe — warm lights, red leather booths, old school R&B humming through the speakers. The smell of syrup, waffles, bacon fat, coffee... like somebody threw a breakfast bomb at your nose in the best way.

A big woman behind the counter squinted at us.
"Déjà, girl, what you doin' here lookin' like you crawled through a demolition site?"

Moms slid into the booth and waved her hand.
"Don't start, Jackie. Just bring me two waffles and a bucket of that peach syrup."

"A bucket?" Jackie laughed.
"You feedin' a army?"

Moms smirked.
"If I was, they'd be fatter than yours."

Jackie slapped her with a towel on her way past, laughing so loud the whole diner turned to look. The tension in my chest eased for the first time in hours.

Raquel slid in next to me, leaning her head on my shoulder. The warmth of her body felt like a reminder:
We still alive.

"So... how long you been comin' here?" she asked.

I shrugged.
"Since I was six. Mama brought me after we outran a dude she pistol-whipped in front of the Walgreens."

Raquel's eyes widened.
"You was six!?"

"Yeah. I wasn't even tall enough to see over the booth. Jackie had to put two phone books under me."

She laughed so hard she snorted — loud and unexpected. The sound warmed something in my chest I didn't know needed warmth.

Moms watched us from across the table.
The lines in her face — the hard ones carved by years of pain and hustle — softened just a little.

"You two cute," she said, pouring water.
"Y'all act like y'all ain't just left a damn war zone."

Raquel groaned.
"Mama Déjà... don't ruin the vibes."

"I ain't ruinin' nothin'. I'm jus' sayin' — if y'all gon' be Bonnie and Clyde, at least enjoy breakfast before gettin' shot at again."

I choked on my water laughing.

Raquel playfully flicked moms' hand.
"We ain't no Bonnie and Clyde..."

Moms raised her eyebrow.
"Oh no? Y'all just double-tapped two knuckleheads behind the library and then escaped a squad of grown men with rifles?"

Raquel blushed, sinking deeper into the booth.
"Okay... maybe a little."

Jackie came back with our plates — three giant waffle stacks drowning in syrup, bacon so crispy it snapped like chips, eggs steaming, and a side of hot biscuits.

Raquel's eyes lit up like she'd witnessed a miracle.
"Mama Déjà... is this legal?"

"Nothin' in this lifestyle legal, baby," moms said, smirking.
"But this food worth goin' to jail over."

She was right.
That first bite hit my soul so hard I closed my eyes.

Raquel tapped her fork on her plate.
"I swear this the best food I've ever— OH MY GOD, what is this?"

She pointed at a biscuit so buttery it glistened.

"That," Jackie said proudly from the counter,
"is a sin in bread form."

Raquel took a bite, froze like she saw heaven, then whispered:

"...I'm marryin' whoever baked this."

I pointed at Jackie.
"That's her."

Raquel blinked.
"...Jackie, will you marry me?"

Jackie busted up laughing.
"Girl, I'm on husband number four, but I got room for one more if you cook."

Moms sipped her coffee.
"Ain't nobody marryin' nobody until this trip to Jamaica handled. After that? Y'all grown."

A warmth spread across the booth.
Comfort. Humor.
Safety — even if temporary.

For a moment, none of us were killers, or hunted, or running.
We were just... us.

Family in a stolen pocket of peace.

Raquel leaned close and whispered in my ear:

"Baby... even with all this crazy shit... being next to you feels like safety."

I kissed her cheek, slow.

"Nah, ma...
You feel like home."

Moms pretended not to hear but cracked a tiny smile behind her mug.

When we finished eating, Jackie handed us a to-go bag bigger than Raquel's purse.

"Road food," Jackie said.
"Y'all look like you might have a long night."

Moms hugged her tight — something she almost never does.
"Thank you, sis. For everything. Always."

Jackie nodded solemnly.

"Be careful, Déjà. Word been drifting on the street... island folks been askin' questions. Dangerous ones."

Moms' face went flat again — the softness gone in an instant.

"I know."

We stepped out into the cool night air.

Raquel intertwined her fingers with mine, leaning her head on my shoulder as we walked toward the SUV.

The world was still unforgiving.
Still deadly.
Still hunting us.

But for the first time since the chaos started —
we felt human again.

Warm.

Safe.

Loved.

And ready for whatever came next.