“Bye Shemel. See you at two,” she said, ignoring his question.
He looked at the time on his phone and nodded. He had about four hours to handle business for himself, then take care of his mama’s requests. He hopped in his Yukon, after responding to a few folks’ text messages, and pulled off. It didn’t matter how early it was or what day; his phone was forever ringing off the hook. If it wasn’t customers tryna catch their next high, it was promoters in his email asking him to do a show. He and his family were well known in St. Louis, but Shemel wanted to be known worldwide. He had bigger dreams than selling drugs, but he was surrounded by the lifestyle, and it was hard to shake.
His best friend since childhood was heavy in the game, like the rest of his family, and he had no plans of retiring. It was all he knew. Pierre was all for his boy making it big in the rap game, and supported him no doubt. Only thing he hated was Shemel leaving the streets. He knew shit wouldn’t be sweet trying to get out, especially with the way Mel was getting it, but he was going to have his back with whatever decision he made.
Shemel cruised through the city, stopping in various places to serve his customers. He was cruising because if he ever got pulled over, he was going straight to jail, no questions asked. He had everything from weed, pills, lean, and even coke in the whip. Only reason he would get pulled over is because he’s a black male. Other than that, he was good. His insurance was paid up for the year and his tags were up to date. His pops had always told him, as long as he was riding legit, he could pretty much get away with whatever, so he wasn’t tripping about the amount of illegal substances he had left… only the money that continued weighing his pocket down.
Four hours and forty-five hundred dollars later, Mel pulled up to the address his mama texted him and shut his truck off. Pierre was ringing his line, but he already knew what he wanted, so he declined the call and slipped his phone in his back pocket. Walking up to the door, blowing his warm breath onto his hands, he rang the doorbell and waited. He had heard a lot about Mrs. McQueen over the years, but had never met the lady in person.
“Look at you, as handsome as you want to be! Come in, come in,” Mrs. McQueen said, holding the door open.
Mel stepped in the warm home and looked around. The sweet smell of something baking invaded his nostrils, making him lick his lips at the delicious smell.
“How are you, Mrs. McQueen? I’m Shemel, Tamika’s son,” he said, extending his hand for her to shake.
“Boy, you better give me a hug. I haven’t seen you since you were little. And call me Mrs. Carla,” she said, pulling him into a hug.
Shemel hugged her back, awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. She was the same height as his mama and he towered over her. He pulled back, smiling at her hospitality.
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember you. How long you been knowing my moms?” he asked, as they walked into the kitchen.
“Me and yo mama go way back. She used to bring you and your brothers up to the hospital all the time before she stopped working there. I can’t believe you’re this grown. How old are you now?”
“Twenty-five,” he answered, looking at the beautifully designed cupcakes in the tray.
“Ooh, that is right. You were always a year older than my baby,” she said, closing the box to the sheet cake.
“Why she have you make all these cupcakes? Amani only turning six,” he asked, laughing.
“I didn’t make all these; my daughter did. And you know Tamika go all out for that grandbaby of hers.”
She wasn’t lying. Tamika spoiled all of her grandkids, but Amani was her baby. She was the oldest grandchild, and anything she wanted, she got.
“You ain’t lying,” Mel said, laughing.
Just as he reached into his pocket to pull some money out to pay for the cakes, Brix waltzed into the kitchen.
“Ma, are they here to pick up the cakes yet? I need to go some—” she stopped talking and covered her mouth. She was not prepared to walk into the kitchen and see the guy she ran into last night, standing in front of her.
“Brix, where are your clothes? We have company,” her mama said, looking down at her attire. She was wearing spandex shorts that showed off every curve of her short frame and a cami, leaving nothing to the imagination. Mel grinned as he eyed her nervous expression. Her eyes grew wide, and he was now more than happy to have come and picked the cakes up.
“I am so sorry. I did not expect for someone to be down here, especially you,” Brix said, tugging on her shorts that kept navigating their way into her crotch area.
“Especially me? That’s no way to greet the man who helped you out last night,” Mel said, smiling. He could tell she was nervous and loved the innocent look she gave him.