𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐆

60

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I sat on the edge of my seat with Chyna famous Louisiana shrimp and sausage jambalaya digging into my nostrils. I couldn't even focus because she had me on her every word. That was probably why she had that same accent like Lil Wayne or some shit.

"That's crazy. How did you even find all of that out?"

"My granny." Chyna took a sip of her wine and took a bite of her jambalaya, licking the grain of rice off her beauty-marked lip. "Apparently, she knew Romeo since he was a lil' baby. She watched him grow up and she even babysat him a few times till my mama came along. Jocin she ain't know that much but my grandma up and left the Nola before shit got too crazy. Even when my daddy had us up in Mandeville, she ain't take no chances. Then, when she realized how much she loved marrying rich, she ain't have no reason to go back to Louisiana except to visit her mama grave. But she was my mama. She taught me everything, and I'm grateful for her. More than she probably know or I ever showed her but I promised myself I was gonna stack enough money to open a little shop in Atlanta or something and move my granny there. Even if she just stay a few months out the year, why the fuck not?"

"She taught me how to cook and all that shit till she got real sick. Rich don't be liking all that spicy shit so I just slowed down cooking Louisiana-style and just made like southern style shit. If you ask me, I don't even like it. I prefer my gumbo and shit. Cooking this nigga ribs, red rice and beans and I'm always eating shrimp salad and shit."

I took another bite and I could feel how much love she had put into this shit from the seasoning to the shrimp to the sausage, even down to the fucking rice.

I popped the fork out of my mouth, tapping it on my cheek as she took another sip of wine.

"So, has your mama tried to reach out to yo u or call you or anything?"

Chyna took a minute to respond as she sat down. I could tell by the way her eyebrows were scrunching together that it was a sore spot. And to be real with you, who wouldn't be salty about the fact their mama just left them to figure it out. Listening to her story made me think about me and my mama story. How, me and Chyna wasn't that much different although she carried a different demeanor but, I guess that just comes with the game after a while. You just, play the poker face.

"Nah." She said flatly, stuffing her face with her jambalaya. Something about that answer ain't sit right with me.

"Did she call your grandma or anything? See if you was alive? Nothing?"

Chyna kept chewing her food slower and slower as I asked each question. I took the hint and just dropped it, dropping my shoulders in defeat.

"Silent treatment, huh?" I mumbled under my breath, hopping off the stool to plop on the couch. Maybe I would find that show I was watching the other day before my daddy called.

"I lied," No shit. "She did call me. But it wasn't no 'hey baby how are you I miss you.' Type shit. It was more like 'your granny giving you money? Do you think you can western union me some money' type shit."

I swallowed hard as I sat on the couch, looking her way with a hard look of pity. If that was thing I could say about my mama, she ain't never do no shit like that. Even with all the shit going on, until it got really bad, I stayed with my mama.

"She started doing coke and shit and eventually made her way back to Louisiana. But, I'm not in no mood to comb through Baton Rouge looking for her. I thought she would have caught some sense to not go back to where this nigga was literally slaughtering everything Romeo touched, kissed, and made money at. But..." Chyna expression softened and she grinned, but it was so sad I couldn't even look her way no more. I just turned around and pulled out the fabric on my robe.