Chapter Thirteen

The Girls Are Fighting

Good head cured many a thing, but even getting ate out like a Jell-O pudding cup couldn’t erase my daddy’s words from my mind. Daddy seeing betrayal on her face was fucking with me. It wasn’t like I’d invited Jackie to come over, but if her presence rubbed Jucee the wrong way, then it was still my fault. I wasn’t even fucking with Jackie for real, but because I hadn’t told her that, she felt comfortable enough to show up to the studio. That was on me. I needed to fix that with Jucee and simultaneously needed to get us back on track. So when I texted Jucee the next morning and asked her to meet me at the newest food hall downtown for lunch, I held my breath. Wednesdays were her off days and usually the day we’d grab lunch together; things hadn’t been usual, but after our conversation last night, I had high hopes. After fifteen minutes, my phone vibrated as Jucee thumbs-upped my question and responded.

Jucee Baby: ...

Jucee Baby: What time?

Me: One?

Jucee Baby: Okay.

Maybe I was a little anxious, but it seemed like the driest interaction we’d had in a long time. It was enough for me. For now. My plan had been to spend another full day in the studio working on Hitta’s album, but my daddy was right about one thing. I needed to make sure my friendship was righted. No matter what had transpired between us, the bottom line was me and Jucee were locked in, and nothing was supposed to be able to shake that up.

I tried working up until it was time to leave, but I couldn’t even concentrate, so I went ahead on to POST Houston early. It was an entertainment venue with a food hall and was located in the old Barbara Jordan Post Office on Bagby. It was an amazing space, with coworking offices, a massive skylawn, and of course a large food hall. I’d heard of them when Trisha, Xeno’s girlfriend, brought in spicy chicken wings from a spot called Lea Jane’s, which was located at POST.

I was knuckle-deep in hot sauce when Jucee slid into the metal chair across the table from me, holding a tray with a plate of beef panang curry and jasmine rice, blackberry lemonade, and a basket of hot wings. She placed the basket in front of me and settled into her seat, fork already in her freed hand. Casting a cursory glance at the wings, I frowned at her. Never mind how she knew I wanted more of those, I was more concerned with the state of her arrival.

“So you’re just gonna sit your ass down and eat without even giving me a hug or a kiss? That’s what we’re doing? That’s how we’re treating each other today?” Eyes narrowed, I waited for her response on bated breath because I wanted—needed—something normal. I needed to know that she was still rocking with me. That sex didn’t mean we completely ruined our shit. I waited to see what she would do, and my heart split in half when an undeniable grin came on to her face. She rolled her eyes, but there was amusement there as well.

Tossing her head back, she hooted with laughter before shaking her head and pushing to her feet. Coming to stand behind me, she bent at the waist, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug as she pressed her lips to my jaw. I saw it coming and still couldn’t prepare myself. Her movements were slow—almost deliberately so—giving me ample time to categorize each and every moment before, during, and after her body heat and scent engulfed me. That pillow-soft bottom lip lingered just a fraction of a second longer than the top, searing a brand onto my skin. The weight of her limbs enclosing mine, holding me in place while she did what she wanted to me without my interference. The moment lasted less than two seconds, but from the way my eyes fluttered closed and my brain shifted into slo-mo, it felt like ten minutes of pleasure.

If I was unsure about my feelings before today, this moment absolutely solidified them for me. I’d just lived out a scene from a nineties Black rom-com in my head off of an innocent touch; if love was a destination, I’d moved in with my luggage in tow.

Dammit to hell, I was so fucked.

“I’m sorry, Poppa,” Jucee murmured into my ear, amusement woven into her naturally melodious voice. “I forgot for two minutes what a brat you are.”

The contented cloud of pining that had fallen over me cleared with a quickness, and I was back to glaring at her as she chuckled and returned to her seat.

“Or,”I emphasized, “I just want your love and affection at all times.”

With her attention on her plate, she nodded. “You know you got that already.”

I harrumphed, but didn’t otherwise say a word. I heard the deeper meaning in that loud and clear and my heart was swelling too big for my chest, but I didn’t know what to do with that reaction. It was a precarious situation I was in. On one hand, I was trying to hold on to one of the most fulfilling relationships I’d ever managed to maintain, and on the other, I wanted to explore something I’d never had before with the most important woman to me. It could very likely end in disaster. Twisting my lips, I watched Jucee take a bite of her dish, the way her eyes closed as she savored the amalgamation of flavors and spice causing me distress. Of course I knew that she loved me, and I loved her too, but this was different. This was something that made my heart feel too big for my chest and had me up writing love songs at three in the morning.

“Poppa, can I ask you a question?”

When she lifted her gaze from her plate, I realized that I’d been staring at her. Shifting in my seat, I returned my attention to my hot wings.

“What’s up?”

“Are you a no-touch stud?”

My eyes widened, and I started choking on the chicken. Jucee grabbed the glass of water on the table and shoved it into my hand. Then she jumped to her feet and ran off, returning with a glass, artesian bottled water. My coughing had subsided, but I still took the bottle and drained it quickly.

“Seriously, Jucee?” I wheezed, tapping at my chest.

“What?” She looked genuinely confused.

“You can’t say shit like that out the blue! That’s the kind of question that needs a warm-up. Prep me first, dammit!”

Grinning, she shrugged and sipped from the blackberry lemonade. “Prep first. Got it. I’ll file that away for future reference.”

Rolling my eyes toward the heavens, I groaned. “Marie...” This called for her middle name, because she was really out of pocket for that question.

Folding her arms on top of the table, she leaned forward, giggling at my exasperated expression.

“Yes, Poppa?”

Dropping my eyes from the ceiling, I swung them toward Jucee, pulling a smile outta her. Her attention was glued to my face. The expression on her face said that all she wanted to do was put her mouth on me, and my skin heated at the thought.

“Why would you even ask me some shit like that?”

I spoke the question in a low tone in an attempt to mask how turned on it had me. We didn’t talk about this kind of stuff. On purpose. Somehow I’d always known that it would be awkward, and now I knew the real reason was that I’d want to do whatever it was we were talking about.

“I asked ’cause I wanna eat your pussy again, and from the way you acted last night, I figured it wasn’t something you received often. I know you get pussy, so I could only assume why that was.”

My lips parted and my mouth fell open. Sitting back heavily, I cast my head from side to side, flitting my eyes around the wide-open space, trying to see if someone might’ve heard her. How in the hell did we get here? And why was her declaration that she wanted to give me another round of head heating me from my toes to my fitted?

Actually, I knew the answer to that second question. I wanted it. I wanted her.

Finally, after a full minute of feeling unexpectedly shy at her bold question and avoiding her gaze, I faced her, licking my lips nervously as I did so.

“I...”

Raising her eyebrows, she waited for me to continue, but nothing followed. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t even form words beyond yes and please, neither of which I could say because they had nothing to do with what she’d actually asked me.

“You...?” she prompted.

“You’re one of my best friends—”

“Your best friend.”

I chuckled and shook my head, glad to have something else to focus on. “Don’t let Xeno hear you say that shit.”

Rolling her neck from side to side, Jucee squared her shoulders. “She know what’s up. Besides, she don’t want these problems. I’m short but I can fight and these hands are rated E for Everybody.”

My chuckle grew into a boisterous laugh, and I cocked my head to the side and eyed her in amusement. She sounded serious too.

“So, you’d fight for the title of my best friend? Seriously?”

She quirked an eyebrow and met my gaze.

“I’d fight for that, among other things of yours.”

Like your heartwent unsaid, but I felt that shit with my entire being like she’d shouted it up to the rafters. It was corny as hell but I got it because that’s how these newish feelings for Jucee made me feel as of late. Hell, that’s how I felt during my songwriting sessions these last couple of weeks. Goofy, and corny, and giddy, and horny as fuck. Which was why I wanted to eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner before taking her for a long ride that ended with soaked sheets and the both of us passed out from exhaustion.

I groaned, running a hand down my face as I tried to clean those thoughts from my brain. The mental images seemed seared into my mind’s eye. The numbers six and nine floated past my eyes, and I thought that maybe I needed to schedule a visit to my optometrist.

“Jucee! C’mon, man!”

Maybe it wasn’t that serious, but why did it feel like she wasn’t interested in taking things slowly? I was tryna preserve what we had and slowly introduce something new, and she wanted to just throw all of that away on a whim! Frowning, I clutched my chicken wing in my hand and sighed loudly. Jucee sucked her teeth in response.

“Seriously, Cyndi? Kill all of the dramatics. If you’re not interested, you can straight up say no. All the extra shit is so rude and unnecessary.” Her over-the-top display of displeasure made me sit up straight and look at her. She was trying to mask it with annoyance, but there was slight hitch in her voice that tugged at my heart.

“Wait. Are you being serious right now?”

She narrowed her eyes into slits. “You know that I am or you wouldn’t be acting an ass.”

Dropping the chicken, I opened a moist towelette and wiped off my fingers. She had it all wrong.

“I’m sorry. For real. I just...” I shrugged. “I don’t know, man. You caught me off guard and I...” A heavy sigh pushed from my lips. “It’s obvious you’re not just playing and that shit threw me because...”

“Because what, Cyndi?”

My bottom lip curled up. “Aye! First off, stop calling me fucking Cyndi. It’s Poppa from you or nothing else.”

“When you act like Poppa, I’ll call you Poppa. Right now, you’re giving me big Cyndi Thomas aka Cyn Tha Starr energy.”

She’d leaned forward, her hand curled into a fist on the table top, genuine fire blazing in her eyes. I didn’t want to be turned on by the way she was tryna charge me up, but I’d be lying if I said my pussy didn’t throb a lil bit. My lips quirked up of their own accord.

“Don’t do me like that.” I could admit that it was silly, but when she called me anything other than Poppa, it pissed me off. Like full on grated on my nerves. I didn’t even get that mad when my mama called me my full government. You know what? Fuck it. If she wanted to go there, we could go there. I sat forward, ready to throw caution into the wind, when I heard someone call my name. Confused, I looked around until my gaze landed on Jackie.

“Are you shitting me?” I heard Jucee mumble under her breath, letting me know that I wasn’t imagining things. Jackie was actually here at POST and headed right for us.

When she reached our table, she launched herself at my side, wrapping her arms around me and aiming a kiss for my lips. It had caught me off guard and all I could do was let it happen, my stomach sinking with each second that it lasted. Pulling away, I patted her back and shot a glance over at Jucee to gauge her reaction.

Following the path of my attention, Jackie turned her head and finally acknowledged Jucee.

“Oh, Jucee!” she gasped. “I didn’t know you would be here!”

My eyebrows furrowed as Jucee’s shot up.

“I could say the same about you,” Jucee responded, folding her arms on top of the table and leaning forward as if she was preparing to watch a good show.

“Uh, what are you doing here, Jackie?”

Instead of immediately answering my question, she grabbed a chair from a nearby table and situated it right next to me first.

“I asked you yesterday if we could get together today and you said yes. You don’t remember?”

Jucee’s eyes flew to me and I slapped a hand against my forehead.

“Shit,” I muttered when I realized what Jackie was talking about. I’d forgotten all about that. Likely because I hadn’t meant it when I’d answered.

“Yeah, I did. But how did you know I’d be here?”

Jackie laughed and looped an arm through mine, hugging up on me.

“I didn’t. I’m meeting a friend on the skylawn for yoga and I saw you on my way to the stairs.”

Relief flooded me. I thought she’d been on some stalker shit, but luckily it was just a coincidence. Her being here wasn’t ideal, but it was like a wake-up call. It was unexpected, but maybe this was a good thing. Jackie’s presence kept me from saying and doing something that I didn’t need to be doing.

Jackie leaned into me and nuzzled my neck. It tickled, so I jerked away and immediately looked up at Jucee. I don’t know why I felt compelled to look her way. I’d been with women in front of her before; she was always chill about it. But this time just felt different. It felt wrong on several levels and my daddy’s voice echoed in my brain when he described the look on Jucee’s face from the day before. I could try and explain it away, but even if it didn’t make sense, it still felt wrong. And that wasn’t the only thing.

The blood wasn’t exactly bad between her and Jackie, but the vibe was off in a way I couldn’t describe. Little shit like having my neck kissed on felt performative. I had to wonder if Jackie’s display was for my benefit or Jucee’s. And if it was for Jucee, then I had to wonder why Jackie felt like she needed to put on a show for her. Those thoughts took me down a rabbit hole that I just didn’t have the wherewithal to travel, so I reeled it in and focused on my friend.

I watched Jucee press her lips together before she turned away. She only did that when she had things to say but figured it was best if she kept those things to herself. Usually I was in on it, sharing a look with her as she failed to keep the judgment off of her face. This time, I was the subject—or I was entertaining the subject, as Jackie was practically in my lap. Either way, I didn’t like it.

Pushing back from the table, Jucee hiked her purse up onto her shoulder.

“I’m going to go.” Standing, she took her tray to the nearby trash can, emptied her refuse into the bin, and slid the tray onto the waiting rack.

Disentangling Jackie from my limbs, I stood to my feet, not liking the random panic that shot me in the gut at the abrupt way Jucee had gotten up from the table. If she tried to walk out of the building without giving me some affection and a proper goodbye, I was going to riot. I wasn’t going for that shit two days in a row. I couldn’t explain the feeling—wasn’t at all sure why it even seemed like a possibility when we didn’t move like that.

She turned from the bin and headed right back to our table—right back to me—and I blew out a relieved breath. When she saw me standing, the corner of her mouth quirked up. I spread my arms, not even giving her a chance to do anything other than hug me. Her arms encircled my neck as she stepped into my hug, laughing when I squeezed her to me tighter than was necessary.

Thatlaugh was the right one. The force of the thought knocked the wind out of me.

Her head fell backward as her laugh tapered into a giggle as I dropped a loud kiss on her cheek.

“You really do the most sometimes,” she scolded as I released her. “You know that?”

Though she glared, I could see the amusement on her face, and better than that, I could hear it in her voice. My panic had subsided, allowing me to mirror the grin on her face. We were good. That’s all I needed.

“I’m well aware,” I replied before tilting my head to the side, offering my cheek for the kiss she’d yet to give me.

Snorting, she grasped my face a little roughly, causing my brows to furrow as she pulled me closer. But when she leaned in quickly and then paused just before her lips made contact, I found myself holding my breath. A million and seventeen thoughts flitted through my brain in the millisecond that passed before she brushed her lips across my cheek, in what was barely a kiss but also felt like so. Much. More.

An abstract beat popped into my head, and I closed my eyes to focus in on it, not wanting to lose it just because I was out in public. Jucee released me, putting some space between us, making my eyes pop open at the loss of her energy in my bubble. She wore a knowing smile.

“Mmhm, I recognize that look.”

I chuckled, because of course she did. She knew me too well.

Her smile stretched into a sticky sweet, false imitation of the one I was used to seeing as she turned to the table. To my surprise, Jackie’s head was bent as she stared at her phone. It had only been a few seconds, twenty at most, but somehow Jackie had checked out. Jucee stared her way for a beat before shaking her head.

“Enjoy your yoga session, Jackie.” When the woman neither peeled her eyes from the screen nor offered a nod of acknowledgement, Jucee slid her gaze right back to me.

She didn’t have to say a word—everything she was thinking was written all over her face. And, to be honest, I’d get it even if I hadn’t looked her way. Jackie was being incredibly rude. I shook my head, ready to apologize, but Jucee lifted a hand to stop me.

“Nah, it’s good. I’ll call you later, Poppa.”

At that, Jackie lifted her face from her phone and finally looked at Jucee. In my peripheral, I could see her face scrunch, her nose wrinkling as if she’d heard something bad. She turned to me, her expression suddenly more confused than disgusted.

“Why does she call you Poppa?”

Jucee’s eyebrows shot up, and she gave me an indecipherable look before huffing a laugh that was anything but amused. It wasn’t her usual laugh, didn’t have the same melody that had made my heart pound at VR that night. The notes of this laugh were short and sharp, coated in annoyance and riding a resigned rhythm.

“She,”Jucee emphasized, her head cocked to the side as she stared at the side of Jackie’s face, “is right here and fully capable of answering a question.”

Eyes wide, Jackie turned to Jucee and lifted her hands, clearly not wanting the smoke she’d ordered.

“Oh em gee!” she squealed, straightening up. “I didn’t mean any disrespect!”

Bullshit.

I didn’t understand the animosity that Jackie apparently held for Jucee, but one thing I did know was she meant each and every shred of disrespect she’d launched at my friend over lunch.

“Mmhm,” Jucee hummed, unconvinced. Without saying another word, she spun on her heel and walked off.

It took me a second to realize she was actually leaving, but I caught up to her before she passed the second set of columns in one of the halls that bracketed the main area of food market.

“I’m sorry,” I was saying before she even had a chance to come to a full stop.

Turning to me, she quirked an eyebrow and patted my cheek. “I know. Handle your shit, Poppa. If that means that we can’t do more of these forced, fake-ass happy-go-lucky-looking-ass lunches until then, so be it.”

To say she was irritated would have been an understatement. And I got it. I swear I did. For the second day in a row, Jackie had not only shown up unannounced, but she was kind of stealing my attention that should’ve been reserved for Jucee. But that shit pissed me off so bad. There was nothing fake or forced about the time she and I spent together. Never. My jaw clenched, and I blew a heavy breath out through my nose before I spoke.

“Nah, man. Shorty is on her way out.” I hope that Jucee knew that I meant out of my life and not just out of POST. “This won’t happen again.” When she didn’t respond, I felt compelled to get her to understand. “I’m serious, Jucee. I’m not with her. You know that, right?”

“Mm,” she hummed noncommittally, her disbelief woven into the short sound making me want to double down.

“Juc—”

She shook her head and pulled out of my grasp. “Get back to Shorty before she has a fit.” Jerking her chin over my shoulder, she gestured for me to go back in the direction where I’d left Jackie.

I didn’t want to do that shit. That wasn’t what I’d had in mind when I’d planned this meet-up. It was supposed to happen differently, with us back hugging and kissing and comfortable enough to cuddle while she binged reality TV and I scrolled social media.

What the hell did I have to do to get us back there?