“Excuse me?”
I stepped to the side, taking Myome with me and gesturing toward the entrance.
“You’re excused.”
“Son—”
I cut Ralph off. “I’m not your son.”
“Drix.” Myome set her free hand on my chest and I placed my hand atop hers.
“Ralph and I want to talk to our daughter and?—”
“The ideal time to check on her was when you found out she was in the hospital. Don’t come in this bitch acting concerned now.”
“And you’re going to let him speak to me that way?” Joyce glared at Myome.
“He’s a grown man, Mom.” She shrugged.
“And we’re having a family conversation.”
“The divorce didn’t go through, remember? I’m her mothafuckin’ family,” I reminded her.
“Drix.” Myome looked up at me and pleaded with her eyes.
I nodded once. “Go ahead and talk to your people then, Twin, but let me address the room”—I looked from her to each of her parents—“Watch how the fuck you talk to and about my wife in my presence. If you’re going to be taking shots at her confidence and career, you better not let me hear that shit.”
“Or what?” Joyce pressed.
“Or my mama gon’ beat the fuck out you,” I deadpanned, kissing Myome’s hand and sliding out of her hold. “As somebody who actually has a family who fucks with them, trust me. If I call her, she’ll have yo’ ass on the ground in twenty minutes max.”
I pivoted and slid by Ralph to walk out of the kitchen and plopped down on the couch, just close enough to still hear what was going on.
“That’s who you chose to marry, Myome?” Joyce hissed.
“He just threatened your mother!” Ralph added.
“He was defending me and he means well. He’s just overprotective, and honestly, I need someone like that in my corner in this industry.”
“He’s bad PR,” Joyce snipped.
“Well, I didn’t get married for PR, Mom.”
“Myome, when you decided you were going to throw away the top notch education your father and I fought tooth and nail for you and your brothers to get just to dance around on stage yelling into a microphone for pennies on the dollar, we let you. We weren't happy about it but we told you to do what you wanted and?—”
“That’s not what happened. When I told you about my music, you told me I was being ridiculous and threatened to kick me out. Drix may have been a little rough in his delivery but he was right. Y’all downplay what I’m trying to do.”
“What are you trying to do, Myome?” Joyce’s voice rose.
“Look, baby. We’re just worried about you,” Ralph offered.
“It’s a little late to be worried about me now,” Myome whispered loudly. “Now that I’m finally on the verge of making a breakthrough.”
“A few gigs and a tour isn’t enough to sustain a life, Myome, and if you think for a second that man in there is going to help you stay afloat, you’re sadly mistaken,” her mother warned.
“We’re just trying to remind you that shit is hard and a lot of people don’t make it in this industry,” Ralph said softly.
“But a lot of people do,” Myome argued.