My eyes fluttered closed as his words washed over me. “Nero,” I rested my forehead against the side of his face. “You’re killing me.”

  “I just want to make sure I’m not in this alone.”

  “You’re not.” I pressed my mouth to his. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way.”

  “I get it. We’re scared, but are we gon’ do this?”

  I searched his eyes, recognizing the sincerity in them. Because I felt the same way. Scared, but willing to walk this road with him. “I guess we’re in this together.”

  He smirked. “So does that mean you’ll show up tomorrow?”

  Grinning, I twisted my body and straddled his lap. I lowered myself onto his growing erection and groaned when he thrust deeper inside me. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 6

  One Man Can Change the World

  NERO

  * * *

  The barbershop was on ten as usual when I walked in. And the agenda was the same every day. Dissecting politics. Discussing the community. Talking shit. Ace was in his usual seat, near the back—away from the windows. I hadn’t seen him in a minute, so I blocked off the entire day for him. It worked because I knew my family could use the help. The annual barbecue had only grown in popularity over the years, and people from all over the city had already started strolling in to enjoy the free meal.

  The grill was going behind the old building and people were walking in and out. Families were spread out in the back yard, seated in lawn chairs, chatting with neighbors, and eating that good barbecue.

  “Bottom line,” Ace said, “many parents in the hood are raising a bunch of punks. Concerned more about social media than social skills. These lil niggas don’t even know who the mayor of the city is. Never stepped foot inside of a voting precinct. Content to let their woman pay all the damn bills at the house. Can’t tell me what they believe in. Don’t even drive because they don’t have a car.” He shook his head. “Always riding around in their girlfriend’s ride. Never their wife because they don’t want to put a ring on it. And what the fuck is an Uber anyway? If shit goes down, how they gon’ get up out of there?”

  “That’s it right there,” my cousin, Ray, said. “I told my son to get his ass off my couch and learn how to do something other than playing damn video games and hanging on the block all day. He told me I wasn’t respecting his boundaries. I kicked him out.” He chuckled. “Then, my old lady snuck him back in while I was at work.”

  “Lost,” Ace said, finishing his coffee. He tossed his empty cup into the trash and smiled at me. “My main man … where the hell have you been?”

  I greeted Ray and the others, then hugged Ace before I sat in the empty chair next to him. “Working.”

  Ace grunted. “Maybe one day you’ll play a little.”

  My great-uncle, Lou, agreed. “When I was your age, I worked, but I also had a lot of fun.”

  Growing up, I heard the tall tales about Ace and my uncles. To everyone around us, the Bond family was royalty. While I’d teased Daphne about believing the rumors, I knew there was more than a little bit of truth to them. My grandfather and his brothers had been revolutionaries in Detroit, men of distinction. They were known for getting shit done, speaking to the right people, and even kicking ass if needed. Even in his eighties, Ace had maintained a stellar reputation in the hood, and he commanded every room he entered.

  Ace pounded fists with Uncle Lou. “That’s right. I remember piling in the basement, putting on a few records, and turning down the light. Y’all young fellas don’t know shit about that.”

  Ray shook his head. “Why do we always have to talk about old shit? It’s a new day.”

  Shaking his head, Ace said, “And you’re teaching your kids to stay on your couch for the rest of their lives.”

  “Ace, man.” Ray rubbed the side of his face. “Come on, now.”

  “I’m serious.” Ace tapped his cane against the ground.

  As healthy as Ace was, as active as he’d been, just knowing that he needed a cane hit me in the gut. Getting older wasn’t for the weak at heart, especially for those left behind when the inevitable happened. Times like this, sitting in the barbershop on a Saturday, had become priceless. Because Ace and Uncle Lou were the last of the infamous Bond brothers.

  Uncle Lou munched on some barbecue chips, pinning me with an intense stare. “When are you going to stop spending all that time at the office?” he asked, picking the conversation back up.

  “I keep trying to tell him,” Ace chimed in. “Money is good, but it’s not everything.”

  “Right,” Uncle Lou said. “And work won’t keep your dick hard.”

  I cracked up. “Man, what?” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about my dick, Uncle Lou. You need to be concerned about lowering your A1C levels.”

  Diabetes was prevalent in the Black community. Detroit had one of the highest rates in the United States. In my family, many were afflicted with the disease. Some had died. Not only had my mother succumbed to the disease, but my grandmother’s fatal heart attack was a complication of Type II Diabetes. And Uncle Lou developed an eye disease after years of untreated illness and was legally blind. Watching them deal with this devastating condition, and knowing so many others who suffered daily, had propelled me to pursue a specialty in endocrinology.

  Ray pointed at Uncle Lou. “I told you, Gramps. You need to stop eating all that fatty meat. Going to Mr. Corned Beef twice a week.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” Uncle Lou ordered. “Worry about that woman you call a wife and this fine establishment I started. Maybe invest in some updated chairs or something. This one is hard as a rock.”

  “You bought it,” Ray said.

  Uncle Lou grumbled a curse. “Twenty years ago, boy.”

  We all laughed. After cutting hair and dispensing wisdom for over fifty years, Uncle Lou had been forced to retire due to his vision loss. Ray had recently taken over and had worked hard to attract younger clientele. Which seemed to be working somewhat. But the OGs had this place on lock every Saturday.

  Uncle Lou’s wife brought him a plate of ribs. He bent down, a frown on his face. “This is not a rib, baby.”

  Ray snorted. “You can’t even see, Gramps. You don’t know if it’s a rib or a McRib.”

  Once again, the fellas erupted with uncontrollable laughter at Uncle Lou’s expense.

  Ace stood, motioning for me to walk outside with him. Once we hit the sidewalk, he asked, “What’s the word?”

  Confused, I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Evelyn contacted me the other day looking for you.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. “She’s been calling every day, multiple times a day about the house.” I accepted an offer on the house last month. The closing date was fast approaching, and she’d harassed me every damn day about it. “Now, she wants money from the sale.”

  “She wanted me to make you call her.” He barked out a laugh. “I told her to talk to her mama and stop calling me.”

  I chuckled. “I bet she took that well.”

  I had no doubt Ace said exactly those words, too. He was brutally honest, had often made grown men cry, and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought about it. But it was those qualities that garnered him the respect he’d always commanded on the streets. Anyone who came to him for advice, money, or a place to sleep knew that he would always keep it real.

  For years, I worked hard to distance myself from the trauma that had always been just beneath the surface. Losing both of my parents at such a young age could’ve destroyed me. Instead, being with Ace and Granny had saved me. After Mama died, the social workers were intent on putting me in foster care. He’d fought with everything he had, called in favors to some very influential people, to get full custody of me. I was grateful because I could’ve turned out differently.

  On my first night with them, Ace sat me down and told me the rules of his house. There were only three—respect them, respect the struggle, and most importantly, respect myself. He also promised to never lie to me. He never coddled me, never forced me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with, and never made me feel like less than a man. At twelve, he took me with him to places I wouldn’t have dreamed of entering at that age and dared anyone to say something. I learned how to speak to people, how to walk in a room and shut shit down, how to wear a Kangol, how to fight with words, and how to treat a woman. Living with him, watching him had changed me in profound ways.

  “How’s your friend, Daphne?” he asked. The two of them had hit it off, even though they’d yet to sit in the same room with each other.

  “She’s good.”

  “I hope so. You’ve been in hiding since you started talking to her.”

  “I like looking at her,” I told him. He’d said the same thing about Granny to me a long time ago.

  He pointed a finger at me. “That’s a good sign.”

  Glancing at my watch, I said, “She said she would stop by today, to finally meet you.”

  Ace paused, turning to me. “I want you and Daphne to go on a double date with me.”

  I frowned. “You’re dating someone?”

  My grandparents had married young, and he stayed faithful to her until her dying breath. After Granny died, he told me that he would remain single until the “Good Lord called him home.”

  Ace grinned. “I met someone, yes. We met at Eastern Market—during Flower Day last month.”

  Vendors from all over the Midwest visited the local market, selling everything from produce to jewelry to meat. The area housed local cafés and restaurants. Visitors could enjoy live music at Bert’s Warehouse Theater, learn to cook, and shop for art among other activities. The venue held festivals and other events designed to bring people together from all walks of life.

  Flower Day was a tradition for Ace and Granny, at least since the eighties. Granny had called it Date Day. They would disappear early in the morning and come back late with plants and different types of flowers for their house as well as other homes in their Rosedale Park neighborhood. It was their thing, spending quiet time with each other in the yard, digging up dirt, planting, and listening to old school R&B and smooth jazz.

  When Ace told me he planned to attend Flower Day this year, I was happy he’d decided to return to the place that had made them so happy. What I didn’t expect was for him to come back talking about another woman. At the same time, I was pleasantly surprised because I wanted him to enjoy the rest of his life.

  Ace rubbed his salt-and-pepper beard, adjusted his Kangol, and waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, I still don’t know if I want to go through all the rigmarole of getting to know someone else. I loved your grandmother. Plain and simple. Any woman would be a distant second to her.” He clasped my shoulder. “If there’s one thing I want for you, it’s for you to find that same type of love. ’Cause Evelyn damn sure wasn’t it for you.”

  I cracked up. “I already know that.”

  Ace sighed, and I noticed the sadness in his eyes. I wasn’t so busy that I hadn’t realized the date. It was the death anniversary of my father, his only son. After Dad died, Ace didn’t really talk about him. Every time I’d asked a question, he would shut down. But I could tell it still affected him.

  “Son, I blamed myself for so long,” he confessed.

  “For Dad?”

  He nodded. “I thought I was too busy, too focused on the community to see that he was struggling.” Shaking his head, he added, “I questioned my role as his father.”

  “You can’t make someone be a better person, Ace.” My father was a troubled man. His problems hadn’t started with crack cocaine, but they ended because he’d made his drug of choice the center of his world. “Dad was an adult. He made his own decisions for his life.”

  Ace patted my cheek. “When I look at you, though, I feel nothing but pride. And I’m thankful that I’ve been able to watch you grow into the man you are today.”

  I lowered my gaze, suddenly struck with overwhelming emotion at Ace’s words. “I hope you’re not sick or anything, Ace,” I muttered, finally meeting his gaze again.

  Laughing, Ace waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, but I’ve always taught you to say the things you need to say. And stand by your word.”

  “If I haven’t told you, I appreciate the role you’ve played in my life. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

  Ace led me to his car and tapped the door with his cane. “Grab that box out of there,” he ordered.

  I glanced in the backseat, immediately recognizing the box I retrieved back in February, at the meeting with the brothas. I picked it up and handed it to him, but he wouldn’t take it.

  Ace shook his head. “It’s for you.”

  Confused, I opened the box and pulled out a silver flask and three matching shot glasses. “Nice.”

  “I purchased that for your father a long time ago. But he never wanted to be part of the Mr. Black Organization.” My father was the only man in the family that had bucked the tradition. All of my uncles and cousins were active members of the organization and served on several committees. “I almost forgot about it … until you mentioned going to our spot back in February. I should’ve given it to you on your twenty-first birthday, the day you became a member.”

  I brushed my thumb over the engraving. The inscription was simple, since Ace was a man of few words. Live free. “Thanks, Ace. Appreciate it.”

  “I figured it’s time we take a few shots together, to honor those who passed before us. Maybe one day you’ll give the set to Zoe or Nala.”

  Nodding, I told him, “Zoe would love this. Nala? Maybe if it was a pair of kickz.”

  “That young lady is going to do big things. Watch.”

  “I believe it.”

  Ace pointed at the box. “There’s something else in there.”

  Once again, I peered into the box and pulled out a smaller one. I stared at Ace as I removed the cloth wrapper, revealing a ring. I recognized it from one of Ace’s old pictures, the same one that hung in the hallway at the meeting place. I studied the black Tiger’s Eye ring, noting the intricate carvings on the band.

  Ace squeezed my shoulder. “Powerful meaning. Powerful man.” Then, he turned and started back toward the barbershop. “Now, come and eat some food.”

  It was just like Ace to do something sentimental and then walk away with no conversation. But there wasn’t much to say. The gesture, the gift spoke volumes. It meant everything to me.

  As we neared the front door of the shop, Daphne pulled into the parking lot. Ace paused at the doorway. “Is that her?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  He gave me a dap when she got out of the car, dressed in jeans and T-shirt. The sneakers she wore were colorful, but stylish, and her hair was pulled up into a high bun. “You did good, son. You’ll be alright.”

  I chuckled as Daphne approached us, a bright smile on her lips. “Hey.” She stepped up on the tips of her toes to kiss me. Then, she glanced at Ace and gave him a hug before I could introduce them. “I’m Daphne. So happy to meet you.”

  Ace grinned. “I heard you were scared of me.”

  Daphne gaped. “Um,” she stammered, “I … back in the day. But not now.”

  “I’m just playin’ with ya.” He squeezed her hand. “Come on in, fix a plate, and listen to all the shit talking. If you can last through today, you’re good to go forever.”

  She gave him a mock salute. “I’m ready.”

  As Ace pulled her into the shop, introducing her to everyone, I watched her charm every single guy in there with her smile. Before I knew it, Uncle Lou was flirting with her. He even put his plate down to talk to her. Which was no small feat.

  Auntie Liz gathered Daphne and took her to the back of the shop. She glanced back at me and mouthed, ‘Help me!’ before she disappeared. I stared at the door long after she exited the room.

  An elbow to my gut snapped me out of my thoughts, and I turned to find Ace looking at me, an amused gleam in his dark eyes. “Yeah, it’s official,” he said. “You should probably lock that down as soon as possible.”

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “Definitely.”

  Chapter 7

  Inner City Blues

  DAPHNE

  * * *

  “Then, he stole the boy’s bike, his shoes—”

  “And his coat,” Uncle Lou added, interrupting Ray’s story.

  The men in the barbershop laughed as they explained the story of a young, destructive Nero who’d enacted revenge on one of the neighborhood bullies who’d beat up his little cousin Nick.

  Ray chuckled. “In fact, he took his Nintendo, too.”

  “What happened next?” I asked, squeezing Nero’s hand.

  Ace took up the tale from Ray. “I took him right down the street to their house and made him apologize. Then, I made him work for Old Man Richards at the corner store every day after school doing odd jobs.”

  “Odd jobs?” Nero snorted. “The man had me cleaning shit out of the toilets every damn night.”

  Pointing at him with his cane, Ace nodded. “That’s what yo’ lil ass get. I told you time and again, fight with your fists and walk away with your head held high. What if the boy’s father pressed charges against you?”

  Ace continued the story, explaining that he’d tried to teach all the young men in the neighborhood that there were consequences to even the smallest actions. I didn’t know Ace, but I suspected he was the reason the bully’s father didn’t call the police on Nero.

  Uncle Lou chewed on a rib bone and nodded his head. “We lost some money on that little stunt you pulled, nephew,” he confirmed. “I wanted to beat yo’ hardheaded ass.”

  “What did you do to convince the man not to press charges?” I asked Ace.

 

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