The Best Part of Me (Chapter Two)
PAIRINGS: Smoke X Annie, Stack X OC, Cornbread X Therise, Sammie X Pearline, Solomon X Esther | (Previously): Stack X Annie OC CHARACTERS: Twin's mother = Esther Moore; Twin's father = Solomon Moore; Stack woman = Genevieve Campbell-Brown; Smoke/Annie daughter = Armantine "Tina"
PREMISE: The last time Elijah Moore saw his brother, Elias swore he would never forgive him, that the gulf between them was too deep, the pain too hard to traverse. And just as he couldn't help the love he felt for Annie, even if it meant breaking his twin's heart, Elijah couldn't help the longing for his other half, even if Stack would rather see him dead. The last time Elias Moore saw his brother, Elijah promised he would always love him, even through his hate, and Elias promised hatred everlasting. Now, he's found a love even greater than which was lost, and all he wishes to do is to protect it and ensure that his past doesn't fuck up his future. Esther Moore's mild chest pains hide a sinister disease and bring her sons back to her side. The prodigal runaway Stack, whose sojourn into fatherhood has fundamentally changed him as a man and brother, and her jaded Jonah, Elijah, whose adamance in being the cornerstone has him cracking at either side. She hopes her frail health will bring healing; if not, at least allow her to spend her golden years with her grandbabies at her side.
FULL NAMES: Elijah David ‘Smoke’ Moore Elias Saul ‘Stack’ Moore Nanette Marie ‘Annie’ Moore
CHAPTER TWO
Stack breathed heavy through his nose, stealing a glance at Esther before sucking his teeth.
“My better half,” Stack offered, meeting Solomon’s gaze. Parallel eyes met in conflict, neither succeeding ground in their equal weighing.
“Hmm, she give you more than one?” Sir’s voice was probing, his eyes discerning, deceptively fast in a way his aged appearance would have you think otherwise.
“Yes Sir,” he offered drily.
Sir narrowed his eyes, smacking his lips loudly, shaking his head, and stomping his cane on the ground.
“What typa wrong’un gave you seed?” he barked, looking Stack up and down in derision. That wasn’t new, Sir had never looked on either boy with anything but disappointment.
Stack did not meet the aggression of Sir, instead slowly standing to his height at the other-side of Esther’s bed, he rolled his shoulders twice. “She not from round ‘ere - British Jamaican.”
“Island nigga’s,” Sir mused aloud, he cut his eye at Smoke and sucked his teeth loudly, the white poking past his lips.
“Atleast you sowing your seed, unlike this impotent nigga here,” he pointed the end of his cane to Smoke as he screwed up his face in disgust.
“SOLOMON!” Esther’s voice cut through the tension in sharp reprimand but it did nothing to quell the flaring of Smoke’s nostrils or the pensive expression Annie held on her face.
“Shut it woman, I said ignorant,” he didn’t. His venom had stung, poisoning the small sweetness that had been blossoming before.
There was a profound sense of discomfort reigning over the room. The tightness in Smoke’s jaw and the rhythmic flaring of his nostrils said everything of his feelings, especially with his snarled disposition of coiled anger. Annie stood at his side, hand clutched on his shoulders though her face had lost some colour and her gaze was hard, actively avoiding looking at Sir who sat at the side of them.
“Elijah baby, could you kindly go get your mama a gingerale? Real cold one please?” her request was sickly sweet, but there was an imperative that had Smoke nodding his head, cigarette packet in hand as he stood and exited without a word to Esther or Solomon, just a brief touch of his hand on Annie’s arm.
No one said a word until the door closed firmly at Smoke’s back and Esther’s chest heaved with exertion as she fought with her wires to turn to face Sir fully.
“I beg ya pardon, you ole bastard? Don’t you ever come up in ‘ere and bring your bullshit ‘bout my son again or God so help me I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another sunrise.” She snarled, uncharacteristically cussing at him, as her lips peeled back, staining her teeth purple and her fingertips gripped the flimsy sheets.
Brushing the air aside in nonchalance, Solomon smacked his lips, making a few wet sounds in dismissal.
“You ole’ bastard!” She was near frothing at the mouth, incensed at his nonchalance.
It was this action that had Annie propelling herself forward, slotting in between Esther and Sir, and using her body to block him from the other woman’s line of sight.
“Mama E, please your heart,” Annie pleaded, clasping the old woman’s hand gently.
Stack’s eyes darted between his mother and father but he kept his mouth firmly closed, it set in a thin line across the bottom of his face.
Sir smacked his lips and rolled his eyes. “Woman you keeping these nigga’s soft” he spat, standing shakily and slapping the feet of Smoke’s empty chair to emphasis his departure from the room.
His exodus, brought some breath, some momentary reprieve back into the four walls.
“Lord help me, that man has an ugly heart,” Esther's voice was wet with emotion, and she clasped onto Annie’s hand just as tightly. Smoke’s wife hummed as she stroked the thin skin and breathed deeply.
“Yeah well, keep praying for him mama, ain’t shit else you can do.” Esther narrowed her eyes at Stack’s words, turning her head to look at him with an inscrutable expression, but the youngest of her sons shrugged his shoulders and met her gaze.
Plum lips pursed before relaxing, though tension still remained in her face.
“So where you staying sweetheart?” Mrs Esther asked, smoothing the wrinkles out her blanket with a deft hand and holding Annie’s hand close to her with the other.
Stack shook his head, unphased by the quick change in Esther’s disposition, “bought a coupla’ acres along Friars Point Road” he remarked airily.
Mrs Esther Moore couldn’t help her joy, giving a whoop and a quick “you mean that Elias? You coming home finally?”
Stack rolled his eyes in good nature and huffed a laugh. “Yes mama, don’t pop a blood vessel, me and the Mrs decided it’d be best. Missed my number #1 girl” he said with a cheeky grin, rubbing at her shoulder gently.
Esther shooed him away with her hand and smiled. “Oh Elias, I’m so happy.”
His smile softened and he looked away bashfully, “Yeah mama, I’m happy too.”
“Well, now you and Genevieve can get married good and proper.”
Immediately, Stack rolled his eyes, air escaping his lips in a huff. His eyes met Annie’s briefly and he looked away at the door before darting back to his mother.
“Nope” he said, popping the p, “that ain’t happenin’”
The sudden, abrupt refusal threw Esther for a moment but she quickly recovered and scowled.
“Elias, be serious. When you gon’ marry Genevieve? She’s a beautiful young lady and the mother of your children, and she’s had five of them.” Esther’s eyes darted to Annie’s figure, and she couldn’t help the slow painful smile that crossed her lips, twitching at the edges. “You can’t make her a baby mama again, she’s not no hussy young man.”
The ends of his cornrows shook slightly with the movement of his head and shoulders, “mama, don’t start. Gen don’t want for nothing, in fact you should come take a look at the big ass house she gon be livin’ in.”
“Then give her your name,” Esther was not a woman who pleaded often and as such the sight of her so put off, did twinge at the hearts of both Annie and Stack. “She deserves that at the very least Elias.”
“Shiet, I don’t even want the thing, fuck she gon do with it?”
Annie bristled at the remark, her facade cracking for a moment before she gathered it back together and tilted her head to the side. Esther was not as good at hiding her upset, her eyes watered in more emotion to Stack’s words than Solomon’s.
“Elias Saul Moore really? What if my heart give out and I don’t never see you jump that broom? Hmm? That Moore name is a good strong name, one with history.”
Elias paused, sighing heavy, unable to get a word in edgewise with her polemic.
“You want us to discuss it, we will, that’s all I can promise.”
“Thank you Elias. I just want her to have everything and I know I raised you to give your woman all that she needs.”
“Shiet, everything and then some mama. She got my heart.”
Stack’s eyes met Annie’s again, but this time he did not look away.
—————————————————————————————————— “Elias,”
He was planted in front of the vending machine, the harsh fluorescent lighting doing nothing for the eyes reddened by a lack of sleep and stress. Tearing brown eyes away from the slowly moving snickers, their identical pair met for the first time in many years.
“Yeah?” Shrugging his shoulder, he leaned his body weight against the machine, the glass cold against his cheek, as he looked to Smoke. The snickers still winding down the lever, waiting to fall.
“Mama don’t need no trouble. So if you ain’t staying, don’t give her no false hope.” Smoke said plainly, his face blank.
“Nigga get out my face,” Stack punctuated his words by kissing his teeth and rolling his eyes.
“Nah you gon’ listen,” Smoke hissed, stepping closer to Stack. “I don’t know what typa shit you on bu-”
“Exactly.” Stack bit out, straightening his back and folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t know shit ‘bout me. So fall the fuck back before my fist finds your lip.”
“You threatening me boy?” Smoke stepped closer and Stack was never one to back down from a fight. He stepped into Smoke’s personal space, their noses touching, stealing one another’s breath they way they once stole each other’s nutrition in the womb.
“Nah nigga, its a promise. Back the fuck offa me,” Stack raised a brow, keeping the eye contact unbroken for a long moment before turning to the machine, reaching down for his snickers and shoulder checking Smoke as he brushed past him.
Smoke’s fists tightened at his side. —————————————————————————————————— Stack took the steps in the staircase, two at a time, lighting jogging down the hallway and dancing around the toys already strewn across the carpet.
"Baby?" he called out, peering into the twins room. There were only unpacked boxes and a half-finished crib, but when he turned back to the hallway, Genevieve stood in the doorway of their bedroom, a muslin cloth strewn over her shoulder.
"E?" She asked, and Stack didn't hesitate to gather her into his arms and wrap her in a bear hug. When she pulled back, question in her face, he swooped down, pressing an urgent kiss against her lips.
“I need you to feel like mine,” he murmured against her lips between kisses, pulling back so that they were connected by a thin string of spit. Genevieve locked eyes with Stack, something flashed in the depths, and she broke the gaze to look at the side of his mouth instead.
“Bupsie I-“ She paused, mulling over her words, toying them around her mouth before letting them loose. “The vaginismus is acting up, and my pumpum doesn’t want any visitors.” She let the words hang between them, but it didn’t stop the gentle stroke of his hand against the small of her back. Stack nodded slowly, leaning to press a kiss against her forehead.
“You good baby,” his words were honest, and at the sound of his voice, she raised her head and let a small smile creep across her lips.
“You need the dilator again?” Stack asked, pulling Genevieve close and slotting his hands into her back pockets as they hugged.
She shook her head as it was pressed against his chest, nuzzling the soft cotton, “I don’t think so, but I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“Hmmm,” he hummed softly, rocking her side to side, “not gon pressure you for nuthin. The pussy good, but I can live without it baby. I love you, Genevieve, all of you.”
“You being dramatic, bups.” She gave a laugh, thick with emotion, but she was pleased. “No punny, but I can give you some tongue, what do you think about that baby?” Genevieve purred, twisting her tongue around Stack’s ear before nibbling on the lobe. Stack groaned, grasping tightly at the cheeks of her ass through her jeans.
Sliding out a hand, he lent back and let his palm ricochet off the fat of her ass. “Lemme get dis shit down’ then Imma put you through that mattress. Can’t fuck it, don’ mean I can’t eat it.”
As if employed by Satan to work against his father, the cry of one of the twins sang out in the air. Stack's head fell as Genevieve chuckled and stroked the back of his head.
"An' you want more baby," she murmured with a smirk before pulling away and walking back into their bedroom.
Their room was void of furniture, bar their bed, and the boxes the furniture was contained in, and their suitcases, but lying happily on their sheets was a sockless Ezekiel and pensive Ezra, who glared up at them in discomfort.
They didn't need to guess what the issue was; the stench reached up to grasp their nostril hairs and yank.
"Goddamn Rafael, you making grown men shits now?" Stack asked incredulously as they neared the children. Ezekiel babbled something near coherent, and Stack angled his head toward him. "Yes, exactly, this boy stank."
Ezekiel stretched his hands up, and Stack gathered him in his hands, cuddling him close as the twin pointed at Ezra. "Yes, his booty stank," Stack cooed, rubbing at Ezekiel's back. Genevieve snorted, rolling her eyes. She stooped down and searched the bag for diapers and wipes. "He gets it from you," she teased, laying out the changing mat, "you think your shit smells like roses?"
Crinkling his nose, Stack shook his head as he rocked Ezekiel.
"Nuh huh, it can't be me."
"Sure, Stack sure,"
Once the mat was open and the materials laid out, Genevieve plopped Ezra on the mat and automatically turned to Stack, hands stretched open. Elegantly, Stack dropped the baby into her arms in a quick motion, and she stepped back as he began peeling off the soiled clothing from the baby.
Ezra babbled in frustration as though he was cussing at Stack for leaving his bum dirty for so long, punctuated with clapping hands and scowls.
"Aight cool it Rafael, ion know why you cussing when I'm the one wiping shit," Stack griped, though his hands were gentle and he wrung the excess water out of the wipe before swiping Ezra's skin.
"Grumpy old bastard at 8 months," Genevieve chided, rocking Ezekiel side to side and peering over Stack's shoulder. "But, he's mummy's old grump, ain't you mummy's baby?" she cooed, giggling when Stack shot her a disgusted look over his shoulder. At that motion, Ezra kicked Stack in the face and babbled loudly whilst Genevieve snored in laughter, bending at the hip as she tried to gather herself.
Stack glared but couldn't keep it up for long, snorting a laugh too when Ezra slapped his hand against the mat in impatience.
"I swear Zach and Zip weren't so ..." his brows scrunched as he searched for the word, "opinionative?"
"He's a Capricorn sun," Genevieve offered as though that explained everything. Rolling his eyes, Stack shifted to grab the clean nappy and spread it under Ezra.
“So, Mama said I should marry you”, Stack said uncharacteristically serious, "and I realise I ain't be treating you right, just letting you be my baby mama. It's time I step up and honour my responsibilities to you and our babies."
There was a long moment of silence before both of them fell into peals of laughter and chuckles.
"Fuck me! How did that even come up?"
"Fuck if I know! The woman ambushed me an' was chatting like I don't keep you."
“You gonna get on one knee, is it Stackie?” Genevieve teased, stroking the back of Ezekiel's head, the twin baby, resting his weight on her chest.
Stack rolled his eyes, standing up proper and picking up a much more sedate Ezra. He sucked his teeth, holding Ezra close, letting him slap his cheek gently and wiggle his body as he made himself comfortable in his father's arms.
"I've always taken care of what's mine Gem, minded my kids, paid my dues, kept my woman. Ion like them thinking if you ain't got a ring on your left hand, then I ain't doing right by you. 'SPECIALLY since we married! It's not my fault you don't wan my last name."
"Baby," Genevieve spoke softly, stepping closer to Stack and laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're a fantastic father, and I'm grateful for you being my partner. Want me to wear a ring? I will baby, but I got my doctorate in my name - I'm keeping my name."
Kissing his teeth, Stack scoffed and shook his head. "Nah baby, never that. You don't need to do nothin you don' want to. Just some fucking bull shit really."
Genevieve made a low humming sound, soothing to her babies and partner, causing Ezekiel's eyes to flutter and Ezra to give a loud yawn.
“I know Sir ain’t shit, but maybe you should go see Delta” Genevieve broached light, "this ain't just upset about Mama E, is it?"
Stack avoided the question but raised a brow, asking, “Who?” in confusion.
“Delta Slim”
"Ah yeah. An' baby, he’s Slim, not Delta, ion know no Delta."
—————————————————————————————————— He’d dimmed the lights as he’d pulled up to the old ramshackle home, the facade a faded pink, cracking in some places from heat and peeling in neglect. The voice of Cheryl, high pitched, echoed in his ears, bragging between giggles about being trusted with choosing the new house colour. Under his feet, the ground crunched, his Nike’s kicking up the soft gravel and Stack shook the memory out of his head with quickness, it floating out his ears to fall across his shoulders like a shawl.
“Guess that Atlantic wind blew yo’ Black ass back to the Delta huh?” A voice called out from the porch, words half slurred in the way only good cheap alcohol could.
“An I didn’ come empty handed,” Stack called out, holding up the plastic bag covered bottle high. The sun had set some time before, so the shadows didn’t stretch, their freedom meant they walked and warped, wrapping themselves along treelines and across the dim porch light, but some how he saw enough to grumble and hit the switch.
The old hanging light flickered to life and for the first time in many years Stack’s eyes rested on Delta Slim.
The old man had kept his height, but his eyes were yellowed from too much drinking and reefer, and his lips chapped and blackened some what. Sweat rolled down the side of his head, as no breeze blew in the night. Stack hiked his leg up and near jumped onto the high porch. “Damn Slim, you still not fixed ‘em steps?”
A single eye cracked open in a weathered face, but white teeth flashed in a smirk in reply. Stack leaned against one of the support pillars holding up the second floor. “Nah don’t be so sour, you enjoy my company,” his voice melodic as he sang his words with a grin.
Delta Slim sucked his teeth and leaned over to spit across the railing.
“Why you here Stack?”
“Visit ye’ of course.” Stack chirped with an innocence neither believed.
“Hmmm,” Slim’s eyes flickered up and down, “you don seen your daddy.” It was a statement, not a question.
“How you know?”
Slim’s chuckle was a comforting sound to Stack’s ears, it reminded him of the halcyon days of his youth. Barefoot chasing toads and crickets with Elijah, playing kiss chase with Cheryl and Mary, sweet tea and poundcake, services at Uncle Jed’s church, just peace.
“Got that look on yer face,”
Stack hummed a sound in his chest, “yeah well, that ol’ nigga still ain’t shit.”
“Yo daddy ai’t been good since Rice. Lost more than jus his foot that day he did, Ole Solo Moore. Lost his soul.”
“Old fuck that’s what he is, if he didn’t piss off the good lord so much the man may have taken him to glory already.”
“Boy you know good and damn well that’s not where he’s going”
The laughter bubbled up through Stack’s nose as Slim wheezed at his side. Slim rose to his feet, and padded into the house returning later with a tall dark bottle and two glasses with ice.
“That liquor?”
Slim’s brows furrowed as he shook his head. “Nigga this ain’t just liquor this that good shi’ straight from Rabbit,”
“Which Rabbit? Peter Rabbit or Ms Bell Rabbit?”
“MR Rabbit, the only real Rabbit. Just cause you young bucks don took his name don’ mean he ain’ rabbit. Ion know nothing bout them other nigga’s”
Stack rolled his eyes, his lips twitching in amusement. “Pour the drink Slim”
As Slim poured the alcohol into the two glasses, Stack held the black plastic bag high in the air.
“This from Gem,”
“Yes the wife, she remembered meh?” Slim corked the open bottle and shifted his weight to the other foot.
“How could anyone forget you Slim?”
“You still talkin slick I see” he eyed Stack before grabbing the bag out his hand and stepping into the house to put it up.
“Now this ain’t no Irish beer but it’s Jamaica finest, tin of blue mountain coffee too in there too.”
“Thank ye fer your generosity,” he grumbled, the wood of the porch creaking under his feet as he brushed past Stack, returning to his seat.
“Least I can do Slim, least I can do.”
They drank in silence, looking out on the long stretch of land, seeing nothing but trees and grass in the inky black sky. There were wisps of lightening bugs, but far from the many of both their youths, either way there was a peaceful silence between them and the hot Mississippi night.
“Saw Mama. She’n in hospital,”
“Hmm, Ruthie say she keep’n good?”
Stack nodded, “yeah, yeah she aight, just needs to mind her heart.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Sir mentioned him, said his dick no good no mo’, anything I should be concerned about Slim?”
“Nah,” closing his eyes, Slim shook his head side to side, voice growing distant. “It ain’t him, its that witch. Jojo saw her down at the clinic, said she don’ twisted her womb and yer brother too good a man to leave ha’ be and find another woman.”
Stack’s eyebrows sprinted into his hairline, but it was 13th word before the last that put a scowl on his lips. “He not my brother,” he muttered the words under his breath but it did not stop Slim’s ears from grasping them in his hands and holding them tight.
The sound of Slim kissing his teeth, loud and long, turned Stack’s head. “Go on now boy, you an him shared a womb, even if you ain’t like him you bound by the blood of the cord,” Slim shook a single finger in Stack’s direction, “there’s some bonds ye’ can break.”
“Fuck that shit,” he spat the words like the feel of them disgusted him to taste, scrunching his nose and rubbing his hands on his knees.
“You just like yo daddy, stubborn as a mule.” The wind carried Slim’s voice, pulling Stack to rise his head and look to his left, “not like Esther, whhhewww, no no no that woman got the patience of a saint.”
The sound came from the back of his throat, “may~ne, here you go again, gon’ tell me how you was almost my daddy?”
“Yessir, if only Solo hadn’t been the tall pretty nigga in the room that night, it would ha’ been me and yo mama,” Delta Slim pursed his lips at the end and made kissing motions as revulsion coloured Stack’s expression before he cracked into laughter, the force of which shaking his head.
“Shiet,” Slim fiddled around in his breast pocket, pulling out a battered harmonica that he clasped between his fingers, “build a beat Stack.”
His foot rocked against the wooden floor almost automatically, the thump soothing and steady then Stack clapped his knee, punctuating the beat. On top the beat, Slim slid the harmonica across his face and bursting out came ah e whiny noise, as though the harmonica was crying out in relief. Slowly, they built their own type of magic, between the hands, feet, and a harmonica. A tidal wave that rose and burst, spewing salt water everywhere, touching everything. A single tear fall down the side of Slim’s face as they eased off the crescendo and brought the music to an end.
“The blue ain’t left your soul twin,” Slim offered with a shake of his head. “No its still in the blood.”
“’Lijah was always a better beat then me. Only time his hand was steady. That and shooting.” He offered the words in a rare moment of honesty, it was fleeting and Stack took a sip of his drinking before asking, “wha’ bout Cornbread and nem? Ain’t heard nuthin from no one, ‘spect Cornbread, I know he and his woman good.”
“Junebug, Peanut, and Turtle?” Slim asked, “Turtle got locked up, he free now, but you know that boy can’t keep his nose clean,” Stack made an encouraging sound in the back of his throat. “Peanut was selling that ROLEX, but you know ion know nuthin bout that money thing an-!
“Slim, you mean FOREX?”
“Nah nigga ROLEX, I know what I heard,”
Stack gave him a bemused look but said nothing else, allowing Slim to talk.
“An Turtle, his baby mama don’ ran off to Florida with some young boy and he struggling bad, but she a woman, and she lightskinned - he shoulda known better.”
Stack kissed his teeth shaking his head, “these delta women ain’t shit.”
“Hmmm, ye’ sounds bitter.”
“Bitter?” Stack gave an indignant sound and look, glancing at Slim from the corner of his eye.
“Stack, lemme tell you somethin,” Slim turned his body, throwing one leg over the other and leaning in so that Stack looked directly into his yellowed eyes.
“She weren’t never your woman. You-you-you-you too much for her,” Delta Slim stuttered over his words as he pointed off into the distance with a crooked finger. “You be shinin’ Stack, sumin bout you just … big,” Delta paused. “It’s not no small fry. You an’ har, would compete too much, but yer brother, he quiet and cause he quiet, she shines.” Slim held Stack’s gaze for a long moment, letting the words wash over the both of them. “But it ain’t easy seeing folks happy, ‘specially when they did you dirty,” he sucked his tongue before leaning back in his chair, “ain’ easy at all.”
“Ole drunk turn preacher?” Stack asked wryly, a soft sadness twisting his lip. Finger twisting the frayed weaving of the porch chair, thumbing the hole bigger.
“Boy you ain’t shit,” Slim muttered, cutting his eye. “Hows you’re wife?”
“She good. Still pretty as a dime, body built like a blessing, heart sweet like tea, speaks soft like a prayer,”
“She loving you good?”
“All three holes then some Slim, can~not complain,” Stack offered, tilting his head to the side as he wiggled his brows and sent Slim a cheeky grin.
Slim’s eyes blew wide. “Well I’ll be damned, all three?” He pulled a face, lips pursing as he shook his head, “You a nasty nigga Stack, a real nasty nigga.”
Stack smirked, “don’t be jealous of me now you ole dawg, you still even getting it up?”
—————————————————————————————————— As Stack gathered himself, throat bobbing as he poured the whiskey down his throat, it burning something fierce, and some droplets rolled down his neck and blended into the sweat of his collar. Tilting the glass in the air, he inclined his head, “Thank you kindly, Slim.”
The cicada’s creaked and croaked in the night and Slim rocked with their beat, matching their music with the spirit in his heart and mind. His low hums grew with each passing moment until it abruptly shot and Slim reached over to clasp Stack’s shoulder.
“Be careful Stack.” He offered lowly, clutching Stack’s shoulder tight, “your woman and the witch, they gon’ butt heads. I feel it in my nerves.”
“They big women,” rolling brown eyes, he still clasped Slim’s hand to his shoulder and patted it gently.
“Hmm,” Slim shook his head, stepping back. “Tell her mind her eye” Slims’ eyes twitched and he pulled down the skin of the left eye socket in emphasis. “Mind her eye Stack.”
“Yeah? We speaking in riddles now Slim? Well, keep an eye out on Sammie. Gave that boy Sir’s ol’ gui~tar, maybe he got some Moore magic left in them fingertips.”
Slim brushed that aside and cackled lowly, “If you and Smoke didn’ get it, how that young pup gon? Get from here with that boy.”
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A/N: Hello, hi, this chapter took alot out of me, but it's because I forgot how to write, prmosie the next one will be coming soon and better written, these old bones are grinding again. Let me know your thoughts!













