“Every time I bring it up, he flips it.
Jamila didn’t say anything at first.
She just shook her head and looked at her. Kormiaknewthat look. It saideverythingwithout needing words. It wasn’t surprise or concern—just a quietI told you so.
“So, what’s the plan?” Jamila asked. “’Cause he don’t get to take your condo.” Kormia’s jaw tightened, because for the first time in a long time, she didn’t have one. Her fatherwasthe plan. Big Ant was who people called when something needed tobe handled. The one who made other people move, not the other way around. You didn’t go against him. Youadjusted.
Which was exactly why she was sleeping in her shop.
She had tried to stay in her condo, tried to stand her ground, but it didn’t matter. He had taken it over completely, and every time she mentioned him leaving, he turned it around on her.
“You try changing the locks?” Jamila asked. “He changed them first,” Kormia said, feeling embarrassed as hell even saying that aloud. “And you ain’t call the cops because…”
“That’s my daddy.”
The silence that settled in the room was thick and complicated.
Kormia tossed the wipe in the trash before taking a deep breath. “Enough about my situation,” Kormia said sharpening her tone. “Tell me what the fuck happened with your homegirl and Cleo. His old ass got crazy with me.” Jamila flexed her fingers.
“Well… I could’ve told you that.”
“Told me what?”
“Cleo a trick. A big one. But he also crazy as fuck. That’s why I put you on to Mr. Lester.”
“Jamillah, that man had a beeper.”
“It was a pacemaker,” Jamila corrected calmly. “And he was more your speed.”
Kormia rolled her eyes because Jamillah was trying to skate past the question.
“What did Cleo do to your homegirl? And don’t leave nothing out.”
Jamila leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other like she had all the time in the world. “He did a lot of shit, Jamillah said barely glancing up from her nails. But mostly he made her life hell for a year or so.” Kormia stopped filing. “What that mean?”
“It means his old ass don’t like feeling used,” Jamila said, her voice lowering just enough to shift the air, like she was choosing her words more carefully now. “He stalked her, blew up two of her cars, and set the dumpster outside her restaurant on fire. A bunch of petty shit.” Kormia’s eyes flicked up.
“That ain’t no petty shit. That sound serious.”
“Well… to her it was,” Jamila said with a small shrug. “But it could’ve been worse.” Her gaze dropped back to her nails. “He could’ve killed her. Like he did the bitch before.” Kormia’s hand stopped completely as everything inside her went quiet. “But he didn’t,” Jamila added, like that was supposed to soften it. Kormia let out a slow breath, but it didn’t steady her the way she wanted it to.
“And you ain’t think to tell me this?”
“I told you to be careful.”
“That’s not the same thing, Jamillah. And you know it.”
“I ain’t introduce you to him,” Jamillah shot back, finally meeting her eyes.
“You cozied up to Cleo’s crazy ass yourself—don’t try to put that shit on me.
Silence filled the shop, heavy and unsettled. “I told you to stick with Wheezy,” Jamila went on, her tone leveling out like she was explaining something simple. “Yeah, he a dog-ass nigga, but at least he do right by you most of the time. Because whether you want to believe it or not, sometimes the devil you know is better than the one you don’t.” Kormia swallowed that, even though it sat wrong going down. Because as much as she wanted to be mad at Jamila, she had no one to blame but herself.
“Mia…” Jamila’s voice softened just a fraction.
“You not built for this life. And that’s a good thing.”
“If I didn’t have to—” Jamila cut herself off, like whatever came next wasn’t meant to be said out loud. Their eyes met, and for a second, Jamillah looked like the old Jamillah, the one sheknew before life got to her. That landed harder than everything else.