“Not as many as the ones who fail, and looking at where you’re headed, there’s a good chance you’re going to be in the latter.”
I stood and headed toward the kitchen.
“Why? Because you were?” Myome scoffed. “You failed at being a musician so you automatically think I’m going to fail. Is that it? You don’t think I can do something better than you?”
“I was a musician and watched this game chew up and spit out artists ten times the singer and performer you are,” Ralph said. “Shit. I was one of them. There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, baby, but you’ve got to know when to fold them.”
“You named me and my brothers after music. You still play your old songs while you work. You never gave up and you never moved on. You just couldn’t cut it and you can’t stand the thought of me reaching my dreams when you let my mom end yours. I know that’s why you hate me in specific. I wasn’t the firstborn. I didn’t end your career. I didn’t make you stop touring. That was Major, but you love him. He can do no fucking wrong. It’s only me that you do this shit to and why is that? Because I remind you of what you could have been?”
“Look—”
Ralph took a step toward Myome. I slid my safety off and made my presence known.
“Talking to my wife crazy will get yo’ ass beat but putting yo’ hands on her will get you killed out here.” I nudged my head toward the entrance. “I feel like this conversation is over for the day. Myome just got out of the hospital and should be resting anyway but thank y’all for stopping by.”
“We—”
“Thank y’all for stopping by,” I repeated. “Don’t make me have to say ‘get the fuck up out our shit’ because I’m trying to be respectful,” I warned.
Joyce clenched her jaw and glared at Myome who crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.
“Come on, Joyce,” Ralph coaxed his wife and grabbed her hand when she was close. “Call us when you give up on this stupid idea, Myome.”
“Or are actually going through with the divorce,” Joyce added.
I chuckled. “Yeah. A’ight. Keep waiting on that shit.”
I watched them hobble their old asses out the front door, walked over and locked it behind them, then headed back to the kitchen where Myome stood in front of her fridge trying to open a water bottle.
“I’m proud of you,” I offered as I walked over. “You stood on shit.”
Myome scoffed and looked up at me. “You think?”
“Yeah. I do. I’m proud of you.”
“I’ve been beating bitches up for as long as I can remember but there’s something about my parents that just gets under my damn skin.”
“That’s probably why you beat on women, Myome.” I chuckled.
“True. That anger has to go somewhere while I’m trying to play respectful daughter.”
“Well, if you ever want to put hands on your mama, I’ll put feet on yo’ pops, Twin. I promise.”
Myome cut her eyes at me but the corners of her mouth tilted.
“You know they’re never going to like you now, right?”
“As long as you like me and they respect you in front of me, it’s whatever.”
“I really appreciate you looking out for me and defending me though.” She threw her arms around my neck.
“I told you, Myome. I got you.”
“I know.” She smiled and lifted to kiss me but we pulled apart when knocking sounded at the door.
“Can you get it? If it’s my parents coming back, can you get rid of them?” she asked.
“I’ve got you.” I grabbed her chin, tilted her head back, and kissed her again then headed to the door. I yanked it open, prepared for the bullshit, but found myself face to face with Dashawn. “Fuck.” I moved to the side to let him inside. “Sit down and give me five.”