That was because of Alejandro.
I was sixteen when he first noticed me. He didn’t take a liking to me because I was tough; it was my intelligence that pulled him in. Most young boys trying to be gangsters move loud. I moved quiet, watched everything, said little, and learned fast.
Alejandro pulled me to the side one night outside a corner store and said something I never forgot.“You either gonna die in this neighborhood or run it.”
I chose the second option.
He started mentoring me after that, teaching me things most grown men never learn.
By the time I was twenty-two, people weren’t just respecting me, they were afraid of me, and somewhere along the way, Alejandro stopped being just a mentor… he became family. My mama didn’t love the life, but she loved that I survived it, and she appreciated Alejandro for making sure I did.
I stepped out the car and headed to the door. Before I could even knock, it swung open. Mama stood in the doorway, wearing a robe, a headscarf tied tight, and house shoes.
Still hood… still beautiful.
“Lord, my baby is home!”
She wrapped her arms around me before I could say a word.
I laughed and hugged her back. “Hey, Ma.”
She stepped back and grabbed my face. “Look at you! Still handsome… still mean-looking.”
I chuckled. “I’m not mean-looking.”
“You look like somebody owe you money, and you came to the city to collect.”
“Ma,” I said, shaking my head, “when I come home, I’m here on personal. I don’t mix business with this. Ain’t nobody getting checked, pressed, or handled in my city… not when I’m around family.”
“Mm-hmm. Either way, I’m glad you’re home. Come in.” She pulled me inside.
The house smelled like Thanksgiving had personally RSVP’d, and Thanksgiving was three days away.
“I’ll have you know I’ve been up since five this morning, cleaning and cooking, just because I knew you’d be hungry when you made it,” Mama said as we headed into the kitchen.
“I appreciate that, Ma, because a nigga sho’ is starving.” I rubbed my stomach dramatically.
She turned around and studied me from head to toe. “Mmm. Looks like they feeding you real good down there in that Mexican city.”
Mama tripped me out. She would never say Mexico, alwaysMexican city.
I glanced down at myself and smirked. I wasn’t fat, and I damn sure wasn’t a slim ass nigga. My build sat right in that space where strength showed without trying. I had broad shoulders, a solid chest, and arms filled out from years in gyms and fights.
“I always been an eater, Ma.”
She waved me off. “I’m talking about food, boy!”
“Shid, me too,” I replied with a grin. “I don’t put my lips onnofemale.”
That part was true. I wasn’t built like these other dudes. If I ever ate a female’s pussy, it would bemy wife. She could get all that. But until then? Nah.
Mama rolled her eyes. “But you wasn’t always an eater,” she continued. “When you was little, your ribs used to introduce themselves before you did. But sit down and get you a bite toeat,” she offered, waving me toward the table. “I made yourfavorite.”
Before sitting, I looked over toward the stove, and there was a big pot of spaghetti covered in thick meat sauce, crispy fried fish stacked high on a platter, sweet corn glistening with butter, and a pan of garlic bread toasted just right around the edges.
I finally sat down and shook my head slowly. “Ma, you went crazy. You must be expecting more company later? You done cooked enough to feed at least two families.”
“I’m not. I just know you eat like you’re feedingthe whole block.” She joked, then piled my plate high the same way she used to when I was a kid, like feeding me was still her job, even though I could buy the whole grocery store now.