Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
A Going Out of Business sign flickered in the wind like a bad lash extension. I hated that. Another Black woman’s dream flickering out.
While I leaned out the window to search the store’s windows for shoppers, a vendor passed me a strand of green beads.
“Throw me something, Sistah!” he hollered, holding out his hands.
My brows pinched. What? He just gave me these. I shrugged, then threw the beads back to him. The beads smacked his forehead.
Montana tapped on the brake. “Chère, my little league tryout didn’t have nothing on you.”
His mom shook her head from the back seat. “Bébé, you don’t throw beads like you mad. You toss them, gentle. Like handing down joy from the balcony.”
“Mommy …” Darius whispered.
Not you too, baby.
My son groaned. “You almost killed Mardi Gras.”
That had Montana howling.
“Find somewhere to park, boy.” I leaned over to swat his shoulder.
Years later, we parked on a side street. The sun did its best to pretend it wasn’t winter, but as Montana started to close the door, I said, “Wait.”
“Lawd, don’t tell me you cold, boo. Lemme keep you warm.”
With a voice all growl and just above a whisper, I said, “Cool it with your mom around.” These winds are whispering enough sweet nothings.
We turned a corner I hoped would lead us back to a main street, and bam! A glitter-covered alligator float sat parked in front of a deli. Massive, with giant, cartoonish teeth, its alligator eyes saw too much. Before I could blink, Darius ran off. “Mommy, a dinosaur. I gotta ride the dinosaur!”
“No, Darius,” I yelled, but he was halfway up the float’s legs, his sneakers scrambling for purchase. Montana not only spotted my son, but he also helped the kid climb.
“Look at him go. Fearless!” Miss Virginia cheered, pulling out her phone to record.
“Should he be doing this?” I glanced at the crowds, but most of them meandered away from us, toward the main streets.
She waved. “Pft. Builds character! Besides, he’s almost there.” She said, “Get to that there head, mon amour. It might have a plastic baby inside.”
“Okay, alligator, gimme the babies!” Darius growled, sounding all types of wrong while he tugged so hard a tuft of the papier-mâché fell off.
“Darius, nooooo!” I shouted.
The deli door crashed open. A man rushed out, waving a footlong salami, various ingredients falling out with every step. “Hey …”
Montana snatched Darius from the neck of the alligator.
“I done watched y’all play with my float. Now you—”
Trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of my son’s actions, I swear, my eyes twitched.
The anger on the man’s face erased when Montana approached him, smiling. “Okay, okay, we just having fun.” Montana pulled out his wallet. “I do tours for outta towners.” He handed the man some cash.
“Tours, Montana Babineaux? You a lie.” The man pocketed the money, laughing. “Thank you. Can I have your autograph?”
“Yessir.”
“Sign the float.”
“Anywhere?” Montana asked, revealing a Sharpie as if he were that man. That damn famous. Which he was.
“That spot the bébé ruined.” The man pointed his sloppy sandwich at the Styrofoam showing where Darius ruined the design. “Put Montana Babineaux was here.”
I tilted my head. Big Country’s inflated ego stemmed from this very reason. No consequences! The guy ran out so quick I almost questioned all my life choices. Now, Virginia filmed and chuckled. Montana signed his name. Big and loud. And Darius was that same old record. Asking about his cake baby. Again.
montana
. . .
“If you and Mémère see any floats, I swear, y’all better not touch them,” I said, squatting to Little Dude’s level.
“Aww, I want a cake baby.”
“My boy!” Did I say that?
After the way his momma and me connected in Paris, I had plans on Valentine’s Day, but I was already claiming them as my family. Gotta make sure Zuri stays, though.
“Hey,” I caught Darius’s attention as a man on stilts strolled by, head even with the top balcony. “Don’t go near no giants either. It’s a long way down if they fall.”
“Ugh. I can’t do nothing.”
“Darius,” Zuri groaned.
“What did I say, Darius?” Damned if I didn’t sound like a daddy.
He regurgitated what I’d said through pouted lips. “Don’t mess with giants or floats.”
I winked at Zuri, telling them both, “Ain’t no plastic babies in the floats. Cake later.”
“You had this little boy … who has practically never gone anywhere … think the float had babies inside it?” Zuri had her hand on her hip, while I gestured for her to walk.
She remained that way, giving me a no-you-didn’t face while Momma and Little Dude disappeared behind a juggler on stilts. If the guy timbered, I hoped Momma snatched Darius up and ran.
“Walk, chère,” I ordered.
“Okay, but we need to visit Mad, Bold & Blown.”
My eyes almost bugged. Who told her about Madison’s glass store?
“It’s going out of business,” she added. “I think a sistah owns it. I wanna support.”