“Oh yeah,” he says. “I was doing battles in the Ring, hoping it would lead to something someday, but my family was struggling. Supreme came along, set up a game plan, now my family ain’t gotta worry about a damn thing. We good.”
Good. One word, one syllable.
If I could, I’d give everything I should,
To make my family good.
I swallow the tightness in my throat and look at Supreme. “If I work with you, can you make sure my family is okay?”
“I’ll make sure you and your family are good,” he says. “You got my word.”
He holds his hand out to me.
It’s a betrayal to Aunt Pooh, but it’s a way for my mom and Trey. I shake her hand.
“We ’bout to get paid!” Supreme practically shouts. “You won’t regret this, baby girl, I swear you won’t. But first things first, I gotta come over and talk to your mom. The three of us gotta sit down and—”
If my life really was a sitcom, this is the moment where the record would scratch. “You, uhhh . . . you gotta talk to Jay?”
Supreme gives this kinda unsure laugh, as if he thinks he’s missing a joke. “Of course. Is there a problem?”
Too many problems to name. I scratch the back of my head. “That may not be a good idea right now.”
“O-kay,” he says slowly, waiting for the rest. That’s all I’m giving him. “I’ll have to talk to her eventually. You know that, right?”
Unfortunately. And she would shut all of this down, though, in a heartbeat.
But it’s like how when she does stuff I don’t like and says it’s “for my own good.” This is for hers. I’m willing to do anything to keep that sadness in her eyes from becoming permanent.
“Let me talk to her first,” I lie to Supreme.
“All right.” He grins. “Let’s work on getting this money then.”
Nineteen
When I get home, all of the recovering addicts are gone, and Jay is putting cans in the kitchen cabinet. Grocery bags cover the table.
I slide my backpack off and set it on the kitchen floor. “How did you get all of—”
“Girl, if you don’t put that backpack in your room, I swear!” Jay snaps.
Goddamn, she’s not even looking at me! Peripheral vision is the devil.
I toss my backpack in my room. Probably should’ve done that anyway. Those Timbs Supreme gave me are stuffed inside. Nobody’s got time for the interrogation that’ll come once Jay sees them things.
Supreme went on for hours about all of the plans he has for me. He wants me to do some interviews to address the drama, he wants me to do a song with Dee-Nice and a song with Miles. He wants me to do a mixtape of my own. Said he’s gonna pay for the studio time and the beats.
It’s hard to be excited, knowing I gotta tell Aunt Pooh that I’m basically dropping her, and knowing I can’t tell my mom yet. I gotta wait for some things to fall in place first. You know, have a seven-figure contract in my hands and be like, “Look what I got!” There’s no way she’ll say no to that.
Okay, there’s a hundred ways she’ll say no, but I’m gonna try for a yes.
She’s moved on to the freezer by the time I return to the kitchen. She slides a pack of chicken in, next to the frozen vegetables that are already in there.
I peek in one of the bags. There are crackers, bread, chips, juice. “Did Aunt Pooh bring all of this?”
“No, I got it,” Jay says.
“How?”
She keeps her head in the freezer as she stuffs another pack of frozen meat inside. “I got my EBT card in the mail today.”
EBT? “You got food stamps? But you said we weren’t gonna—”
“You can say a whole lot before things happen,” she says. “You never truly know what you will or won’t do until you’re going through it. We needed food. Welfare could help us get food.”
“But I thought you said they don’t give college students food stamps unless they have a job.”
“I withdrew from school.”
She says it as casually as if I asked her about the weather.
“You what?” I’m so loud, nosy Ms. Gladys next door probably heard me. “But you were so close to finishing! You can’t quit school for some food stamps!”
Jay moves around me and gets a box of cereal from a bag. “I can quit to make sure you and your brother don’t starve.”