Angelia Vernon Menchan, Serialist...

Angelia Vernon Menchan is an avid serial writer. Her goal is to engage readers in ongoing stories filled with people like them, who they can grow to know. Some will inspire love and devotion, others rage and ridicule, perhaps. They will all inspire feelings and generate conversation!


Thursday, July 17, 2014

Coming Soon!! THE TESTED: SCHAE and JAY: Cinnamon Black Books 15

Edward smiled when Schae strolled into his salon. For years she had worn yards of weave colored bright auburn. A few months ago she had taken out the weave and had soft curls in a darker color. She was dressed in her usual pink clothing. Her closet had to be filled with pink and crème. Today it was a knit shift slightly above the knees and crème shoes. Her skin glowed and her nails and toes were a creamy pink.

“Mami, you look glorious.” Edward simpered. Winking at him, she took her place in his chair.

“Thanks, I want it cut all the way down.” Jumping back as if shocked, Edward spun her chair around.

“What do you mean, all the way down?”

“I mean like Aura Brown’s hair. As short as it can be cut with very little hair left on my head.”

“Boo boo, that ain’t for everyone.  You have a pretty head and face but that butch look is not for you.” Her eyes held his.

“You can cut it or I can go to Fred’s barbershop.” Rolling his eyes he took his position behind her, draped her with the coverall and prepared to snip. “Stop snipping Ed and cut.”

He sucked his teeth but did as she commanded. When he was done, she opened her eyes. She was very pleased with what she saw. Her face was on full display, freckles and all and her eyes looked bigger and all knowing. She glanced at Edward who was still in a snit but she could tell he liked it.

“You like it don’t you? Go on and admit it.”

“It’s all right. It’s a good thing you have a pretty head and face.” He conceded. Before she could respond Cinnamon Black stepped in the shop. Seeing Schae and her new do, she clapped her hands and a huge smile covered her face.

“Look at you Schae, your gorgeous face is on full display.” Schae grinned back as she spun around in her chair. Edward looked to Cinnamon.

“I sure hope you aren’t in here to get your head shaved Ms. Cinnamon, my heart can take only so much.” Cinnamon giggled at his outraged words.

“Not yet, but I know I could rock that look for real. But I want a rinse and my usual three inch curls will do. They are about five inches now.” Schae got out of the chair and embraced her friend.

“Are you busy?”

“No, after Ed is done with me, I was thinking of going to get fish at Fish and Things.”

“Can I join you in a couple hours? I’m going to see mama for a minute or two.”

“I would love that. See you then.”


Geraldine Jackson felt good to be alive. Her cancer was in remission and her hair had grown in soft and wavy. Schae had teased her about caring more about her hair than having cancer. She was simply grateful to God to have made it one  year past stage three and to be in remission but something was on her heart. Throughout the past year, she had only heard from her daughter Janelle on the phone. She hadn’t visited her in the hospital or come home while she was recovering. Janelle’s son, Jabar was playing professional basketball but had found his way home several times to check on his grandmother. He also hadn’t seen his mother. Geraldine knew that now she was well for however long decided, she was going to show up and see her daughter. She sure was.

Geraldine gasped when Schae strode in the room.

“Lord, child, what in the world have you done with your hair?” Schae kissed her mom before answering. As usual Geraldine was decked out in a pantsuit with red nails and her face was perfectly made up.

“I cut it off. This is something I always liked but never had the nerve to do. For years I had more hair than Tammy Faye Baker. Now at my age I am doing what Schae wants.” Geraldine’s brow rose at her daughter’s words.

“Well, then. What does your husband think?” Schae shrugged.

“He hasn’t seen it but he will think what he chooses. I loved Jay’s mustache and he decided because it had a few greys in it to shave it off.”

“Oh tit for tat…”

“Mama, no. It isn’t even that deep.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I have a lunch date with Cinnamon in a while. What are you up to?”

“I am going to make some reservations and fly to Fort Lauderdale.”

“Have you heard from Janelle?”

“No but I’m gonna drive by on her. Jabar hasn’t seen her either. Now that he is playing for Atlanta he can’t go by there but I am free as a bird and I’m going to see what is going on, sho am.”

“Let’s drive down there. It’s only about four hours.”


“We can go in the morning. The boys are in school and Jay can pick them up a day or two. I want to know what she’s up to as well.”

“Talk to your husband and let me know.” Geraldine’s eyes pierced Schae’s. “Is your marriage okay?”

“It is marriage and I will let Jay know. Now let’s talk about something else.”

Monday, July 14, 2014


Deneisha was stunned by how comforting working in a funeral home was. The proprietors, an older couple, the Hollomans and their forty something, embalming daughters ran it. The older Holloman’s only came in as a formality but Debra and Donna were the directors. Debra was tall and square and had never met a smile she liked. Donna was shorter, softer and rounder but they were definitely sisters with short wavy hairdos, penny colored skin and an affinity for grey clothing. The main difference was Donna was quick to smile and often brought Deneisha food or coffee. When they hired her six months for six hundred per weeks ago that was a bargain.   She sent Fletcher three hundred each week for the boys and gave her grandmother, Minnie the same for room and board. She could afford her own place but she loved living with Minnie. Minnie was more mama to her in less than a year than Rena had ever been. The one thing she missed was sex. She needed a boyfriend or something. She giggled, causing Donna to peer at her.

“Donna I was thinking of getting me a man, you got any suggestions?”

The older woman's face colored as she shook her head no. That only piqued Deneisha's interest.

“Have you ever had a man Donna?”

The way she ducked her head let Deneisha know she hit the nail on the head. She could only imagine a forty three year old virgin. She started humming, Like A Virgin by Madonna which sent Donna into peals of laughter. Debra appeared at the door with a dour look and Donna immediately stopped laughing. She shot Deneisha a look which she returned. Debra turned on her heel, walking out. Deneisha was irreplaceable by this point and the older Holloman’s loved her sassy spirit. Left to her own choice, Debra would have never hired the red haired harlot but Nelson Holloman was near seventy but made it clear Holloman Funeral Lodge was his and he would run it as he saw fit. He promised Minnie he would hire her granddaughter and he had. Deneisha added something to the environment, the same way Minnie had years ago.


Fletcher was glad Deneisha called the boys regularly and visited every few weeks but Marc hadn't warmed up to her. He tolerated her but wouldn't go out with her or spend time alone with her. He didn't seen traumatized, just disinterested. He had been advised by counselors not to force anything. As long as he slept well, did well in school and wasn't acting out, he was okay. He wasn't doing any of those things but the minute Deneisha showed up he became a somber little man. He also stayed close to Mic who adored his mom and looked forward to her visits. Marc was much closer to Dena, his mother's sister who read to him and taught him to play soccer and checkers.

“Mom, do you think it's normal?” He was talking to Cynthia about his concerns. Deneisha wanted them to visit her but Marc refused and Mic wasn't going without his brother.

“It's his normal Fletcher. He's not even five. Give him time. Marc is his own individual self.”

“I agree. He just seems so grownup.”

“That's Marc. I'm concerned about my son. When's the last time you went on a date?”

“I date but that's about it.”

He wasn't going to share with his mom he was talking to Teri. She was married with a three year old daughter but there was something between them. She had shown up at his job a few weeks ago and they shared conversation and coffee. She burst into tears confessing she still loved him.

He told her she was married and he wasn't interested in dealing with that but it hadn't stopped her from stopping by or him from talking to her.

His feelings for her still ran deep.

“Be careful son. You have a weakness for damsels in distress.”

She never looked up from frosting the cupcakes but Fletcher shuddered. Cynthia always knew when he was up to something. She was that kind of mama.

Chapter One

Dena enjoyed her nephews and the time she was allowed to spend with them. She had become especially close to Marc. He was a kid who watched and weighed before moving in. She understood his reticence where his mother was concerned. She would mention little things about Deneisha from their childhood but he usually didn’t respond but he would listen. Mic on the other hand was more emotional and trusting. He craved Deneisha’s attention but worshipped Marc. Mic was sleep but Marc was leaning back on the sofa as if deep in thought.

“What’s up little man?” He never turned to look at her.

“I’m thinking. You act like my mama but you my Auntie D. Mama is not like you.” Her heart stilled at his words.

“Everyone is different.”

“Can I have cereal?” She knew he was done talking about it. She watched him wake his brother and stroll into the kitchen like a little soldier.

Smiling, she followed him. No one would ever trick Marc. When Fletcher arrived, they were going to talk about something else that was pressing her.


Drenched in sweat, Fletcher stood from the bench. Standing in front of him was Chad, Teri’s husband. Wary, he squared his shoulders. It was too early in the day.

“I need you to stay away from Teri. She is my wife and the mother of our child.” Fletcher stared into the face of the man married to a woman he still had deep feelings for.

“You should talk to your wife. Not once have I initiated contact with her. I am not your problem.” Chad stared at Fletcher, knowing in his gut that what he said was true. Teri had grown distant in the past few months and he figured Fletcher was in the mix somehow. “Brother, I don’t know you but by the time a man steps to another man…” The words hit Chad’s heart and he nodded in acknowledgement. Truer words were never spoken. He felt foolish as Fletcher walked away to the showers. He knew he was talking to the wrong person, marrying a woman in love with another man was not his finest hour but he loved his wife and wanted his marriage but in that moment he realized it really had nothing to do with Fletcher.

Standing in the shower with hot water pouring over him, Fletcher thought of his conversation with Chad. He had convinced himself it was harmless to have coffee and conversation with Teri but he knew better than that. It was risky and disrespectful to her marriage. He needed to get back out there. He had sons to raise and didn’t need any drama in his life.


Ron lay awake wondering where Rena was. In the past few months, she would take off. After her confrontations with Minnie, Dena and Deneisha she hadn’t cooked any meals, had sex with him or said much. Every day he tried but to no avail. He was tired of trying. He was married to a woman who openly disrespected him and everyone thought he was weak. He didn’t have any connection to his family because of Rena and now she treated him like a house pet. He was mostly concerned about her disappearances. Sometimes she came home from work and other times it would be near midnight.

She never provided an explanation and ignored him if he asked. He was at the end of his rope. She was going to give him some answers or else.

Rena spent most evenings when she didn’t come home in bars. Not clubs but bars. Sometimes she would sit and drink wine, other times she would pick up a guy and go to the nearest motel for quick sex. It didn’t bring any real pleasure. It was simply something to do that was hers. She would always drive at least a hundred miles or more away from home and never the same bar twice. It never occurred to her she was the very thing she hated in her mother and youngest daughter.

After her latest assignation, Rena made her way home near one in the morning. Her plan was to shower and go to bed but she was startled to find Ron waiting for her, fully dressed.

“What are you doing up?”

“No, the question Rena is where the hell have you been? For months, you are rolling in here whenever you feel like it. It needs to stop and stop now.” Reacting as she was prone to do, she reached out her hand to slap him but he caught it in a tight grip. “And don’t put your hands on me.”

Surprise flared in her eyes at him handling her and his tone. In over thirty years that had never happened.

“You need to get your hands off me before I…”

“Before you what Rena, hit me, slap me, and spit in my face? You have done all that and more. I am a man got-damn it and I am tired of being disrespected in a home where I pay for everything! You earn money and spend every dime on yourself. I have no issue with that but you have kept me from my family and tried to keep me from my children and now you have taken yourself away. Maybe I should go!”

“Go where? I will ruin you!” She screamed with spittle flying from her mouth.

“Rena, I am already ruined. All you can do is take half of my military retirement and keep this damn house and you can have it. I am not even fifty years old!” Dropping her hand, he grabbed the bag he packed and walked out the house. Dropping to the couch, she suddenly felt afraid. Ron was all she had and he walked out on her. How was that possible? Screams tore from her throat as she walked around throwing things until she was exhausted. She sat fully dressed staring at the door, waiting for Ron to return but he never did.

Ron felt exhilarated as he got in his truck and drove away. He was going to Jacksonville to see Dena and then was making his way to Montgomery to see Deneisha. Let Rena wonder where the hell he was for a change.


Thursday, July 10, 2014

SCHAE and JAY TESTED! Cinnamon Black Book 15! COMING SOON...

Five years married to Jay… were the words filtering through Schaes mind as she stood on her back porch looking out over the beautiful garden Jay planted and nurtured. Most days something from that garden graced their table. He also had the boys working with him and at eight and nine they flourished under their dads love and care. Schae felt if she walked away that day, they would all be fine.

She had spent the last year, nursing her mom back from stage three breast cancer, Geraldine was doing well and she also had a silent bout with breast cancer while taking care of her mom. Hers was caught early and a biopsy and medicines had taken care of it. The only person she disclosed it to was her husband because she didn’t want it to affect her mother but after many months of keeping it inside, she told her mom and had confessed to a room full of friends, including Cinnamon and Aura Brown. At first she felt free for disclosing it but suddenly at fifty three she was questioning her life and value beyond what she offered people.

She loved Jay, he was a good man but it was quiet love she had never been swept away by it. She also loved raising the boys and taking care of her mom but there had to be more. She just didn't know what or where it was.

She knew it wasn’t where she once was, when she was the perceived gold-digger who slept with handsome paid men for money and pleasure. She loved God and church but still there was a yearning inside for something more.

Jay watched Schae from inside their home and his heart quickened. He loved her, more than he ever loved a woman but he felt she was adrift. After her bout with cancer and telling her friends and family he hoped she would yield closer to him but that hadnt been the case. There was nothing he could complain about, she took great care of them, they made love regularly and the boys were loved and cared for but something was amiss.

Feeling his presence, she turned to him with a soft smile and wave. He stepped onto the porch, wrapping his arms around her. She could feel his heart racing in his chest. Leaning into him, she hoped it gave him comfort.


Tuesday, July 8, 2014


Having always been fearful of being hurt, Abasha Celine shunned love and relationships. She found herself in situations, which meant she had random sexual encounters with a couple of her friends who provided benefits. However, the day she walked into the art gallery and Shaka Fortune spoke to her, things changed.

"Hello...I'm Shaka Fortune, welcome to my work."

 Color suffused her mahogany face as her eyes drank in his tall, ebony countenance. Usually very verbose she said nothing for several minutes. His face opened in a grin as he rubbed her hand, sending colorful shock waves through her.

"And you are?"

"Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place." flew from her mouth. She felt as if she would collapse from desire and embarrassment. Staring into her eyes, he willed himself not to lick her face. He'd never enjoyed such a visceral reaction to any woman.

“So, it does. I love a woman, who loves Zora."

Finally, pulling her hand away Abasha maneuvered her way through the gallery. Shaka was known for his ebony nudes, highlighted by swirls of color. Most of the canvases were huge but a medium one caught her eye. The woman was in recline, her skin the color of teak with shades of orange showing as veins. Her natural hair covered most of her face, but her orange lips showed prominently.

Watching Abasha, Shaka held his breath. At thirty seven and having travelled the world selling his paintings, his confidence in his work was notable but there was something about the woman staring at them that made his insides pulse and undulate. Her stance was provocative with her curly head thrown back and her legs slightly apart. She was wearing faded blue jeans that weren’t necessarily snug but it was clear she was well formed and her curves screamed Africa. He also loved that she was above average height with no slumping. She would fit perfectly in his arms.

Abasha was startled by how the painting resonated within her, what she couldn’t immediately see were the similarities. It was as if he had painted her.

“Ma’am, is that you?”

Sliding out of her spell, Abasha turned to the cultured French voice. Standing next to her was a man of indeterminate age dressed in a suit with a beret. He wasn’t very tall but something about him indicated wealth and power. Her coffee colored eyes met his olive ones.

“No it isn’t. She is stunning.”

“So are you, Cherie."

Bowing, he made his way down the aisle. Having watched the exchange, Shaka made his way to Abasha.

“He is right you know. That woman came to me in a dream. She begged me to paint her and I could only do what I was asked. When you materialized, I knew I had painted you and here you are.”

“I was born thirty two years ago and I am no dream, I am real. Nice work Mr. Fortune.” Throwing her scarf around her shoulders, she walked into another room, leaving Shaka with a smile on his face. He still didn’t know her name.




Scene One

Abasha walked into her apartment in a state of bemusement. She spent several hours in the gallery, mostly checking out the extensive work of Shaka. She had known of his work for years and had a few small prints, but his paintings were well out of her range. Her salary as a guidance counselor did not allow for purchasing paintings costing in the tens of thousands. There had been rumors he was now living in Fernandina Beach but there had been no sightings of him. He was known to be reclusive. When the one day notice had appeared about his showing, she knew she would attend. It never occurred to her she would actually meet him and say something so inappropriate. She was the biggest Zora Neale Hurston fan and was always thinking of her words but that had been highly inappropriate and embarrassing. She had also had no idea he was so damn fine. He looked like an ebony god and the way he filled out those jeans and the black jacket had her insides, still in a dither. Shaking those thoughts from her mind, she kicked off her boots, making her way to the kitchen. There was nothing she wanted more than a glass of cabernet and quiet. Her life was filled with demanding students and study. Her mom and younger brother lived across town but there were days she simply had to avoid them. She loved her mom fiercely, but for some reason she decided eighteen years ago to have another child at forty and now at almost sixty, Reginald was driving her nuts and she wanted to take Abasha along for the drive but she wasnt going.

Undressing and wrapping herself in a thin robe, Abasha took her full glass and made her way to the porch. She loved the night air and quiet. Trying to keep her mind still, she took a sip of her beverage of choice but her mind wandered back to the man who had her shaken and stirred.

Damn Shaka.


Shaka stood in the parking lot after the showing, looking around. He wanted to see the woman he met earlier in the night. His assistant told him, her name was Abasha Celine and she worked in Jacksonville as a high school guidance counselor. He was trying to reconcile her job with how he saw her. Everything appeared to him as colors and she was a nice mix of orange, reds and yellows. In his mind, a counselor should give off blues and greens. Chuckling at his absurdity, he pulled open the door of his truck. He felt rather than saw someone walk up behind him. Turning, he looked into the eyes of Drita, the woman who took care of his shows, scheduling and formerly his physical needs. It had been months since he had been inside her and he recognized the look on her face. Drita was a short, curvy, buxom sister who was open and honest with her desires.

“Are you interested in company tonight Shaka?” Her voice was low and husky. He looked down at her, with a smile.

“Not tonight. I am drained. That show was a smash and it has left me tired. It took months to prepare for it and now in a few hours, most of the paintings are sold.”

“True, but thats a lot of money for you.”

“And you, my plucky assistant. Your seven percent should be considerable.” Throwing her hair back, her eyes never left his face.

“True but a woman cannot live by commission alone.” His grin grew wider at her provocative words. She had earned over fourteen thousand dollars in a few hours.

“True, but you can purchase what you want. I am heading to the hills now but we will talk soon.” Getting in his truck, he honked the horn as he pulled off into traffic.


Pacing like a naked panther around his home, he stopped to stare out at the ocean waves and the black night. It had been a long time since a woman had gotten under his skin. A few years ago he had been involved with a woman he was growing to care about but when she gave him the ultimatum of choosing her or his art it ended. He smiled to himself at the thought of Sara. She had been older than he and had money with which she thought she could purchase things, including him. Sara was a beautiful, sexy woman but Shaka Fortune had never been for sale, not even when he was a poor black boy living in Beaufort, South Carolina wondering where his next meal was coming from. He learned at an early age to work and make it happen for himself. His dad left when he was born and his mom cleaned hotel rooms to feed him and some nights they ate what she brought home that people had thrown away but she taught him to work and work hard and once she learned he had a talent for painting she had done everything she could to help him realize his potential. She died five years earlier in her early fifties from leukemia but lived to see him successful and reap some of the rewards. At that moment an unbidden picture of Abasha entered his brain and he knew, even as tired as he was, he needed to paint. Racing to his studio, he locked the door and turned up the music. He knew he wouldn’t stop until he had a perfect rendering of the woman in his mind.




Scene Two

Reggia Celine stared at her son and rage bloomed in her chest.

Reginald, I dont have money for that. You need to get a job for stuff like that. I am a secretary and it takes all I have to keep a roof over our heads. You are barely passing your classes and you expect a new phone, it isnt happening.” Reginald was a tall handsome kid and was spoiled by Regina. She had fallen in love with his younger father when she was forty and he thirty and gotten pregnant. She hadnt seen his father since but every month she received a check for a couple hundred dollars. At fifty-eight, she was wondering what the hell she had been thinking about. But she knew. She was lonely and horny and the first sexy thirty year old who showed interest had ended up in her bed. She refused to listen to anyone, including her fourteen year old daughter at the time. She was convinced Reggie Brown was her man. As soon as she told him she was pregnant, the hot sex and date nights ended and by the time their son was born he had fled the city. The only thing in his favor was the checks.

“Moms, you get two hundred dollars for me and I only get one of them. If you give me the other hundred, I could get me a phone.” Staring down at her, he put on his charming face that always worked with his mom but for some reason she didn’t budge.

“Reginald, it isnt happening. My car needs new tires and I just dont have it.” In an instant his face changed.

“Get it from Abasha. She makes good money.”

Shaking her head, Reggia sat at the table. She was exhausted. It recently occurred to her she was almost sixty and had been working forty years and had very little to show for it. Her modest home was paid for but had very little in the way of savings. After Abashas dad died in a car accident she used the insurance policy to pay off the home but nothing was left. Her salary covered their expenses and a few things beyond that. Abasha had never craved expensive things and once she was in tenth grade she always had a job. Reginald on the other hand was lazy and spoiled and she knew it was her fault. She had taken her last to try to make up for what his dad didn’tt do but she knew she wanted to retire in four years and it was time to start saving extra to supplement her retirement.

“Thats her money Reginald. Abasha has her own home, car and expenses and if you want a new phone, you need to get a job and pay for it.”

He stared at her for several minutes before grabbing her keys and speeding away. She knew she should have called after him but she was glad for the peaceful moments. Getting up, she went to undress before starting a meal. Abasha always stopped by for dinner on Thursdays. Reginald sped off fuming. He couldn't wait to graduate and leave Jacksonville. His sister was always on his case about being responsible and his moms was becoming just like her. His grades were okay but he didn't have a clue what he wanted to do with his future. He knew he was tired of hearing about Abasha graduating high school at sixteen and graduate school by twenty-two. He wanted more than a nine to five, a condo and a Honda Accord. He wanted it all.


There was something different about Abasha, Reggia immediately noted. She was dressed in a long flowing dress instead of her usual jeans and boots and her head was covered with one of the many scarves she collected. Abasha was very frugal but spared no expense when it came to her travels. She saved all year to go somewhere she never visited and always came home with either scarves or bolts of fabric to create scarves. Throwing her oversized bag on the sofa, she leaned over to kiss her mom. Her daughters affection always brought a smile to Reginas face.

“Abasha you look mighty casual in that emerald green dress and that beautiful head rag.” Throwing her head bag, Abasha started preening.

“This scarf, my lovely mother is not a rag, this is a one of a kind scarf from the hands of the women of Senegal, I would have you know.” She plopped down to the floor near her moms feet. “Where is your son?”

A sigh expelled from Reginas throat.

“He left in a huff because he wants a note phone or some such and I told him he needed a job. I need to save more for my retirement. In four years I will be sixty-two and I am retiring. My company will pay a bit, my social security a bit more and if I can save I will be good and wont have to work at all. He is eighteen now.” Nodding at her moms words, Abasha agreed but she knew it was more than that. Their mom had waited to eighteen to try to teach him things she should have been teaching at birth. He was now wired to think the world owed him something.

“It is about time. Is he in your car?”

“He is. I was too tired to chase after him. I am sure he is with that girl he is fooling around with. She isnt a girl really; I hear she is twenty-three. She will probably buy him the phone.”

“That seems to be how it works nowadays. Their mamas spoil them and when that dries up they find a sugar mama they can get sex and gifts from. That is why Im single; I dont have time for any baby boys raised by mamas who miss the daddies.”

Pushing her daughter away, Reggia stood. They had been having the same conversation for the past ten years. Abasha giggled, following her mom to the kitchen. The scent of basil and garlic wafted to her nose. Making her way to the sink she washed her hands before peeking in the pot. She started dancing at the sight of pasta with chicken, garlic, herbs and spinach.

“Get out of my pots. After all your sassy talk, I might not let you eat any of my food.” Balling up her fists and taking a stance, Abasha pretended to box her mom, knowing it would delight her and smooth away the words she had spoken.

Once they were seated and eating, Reggia asked about the art show. Abasha had tried to get her to go along but she had refused as usual. She worked, went to church and stayed home. Immediately she noticed a light come on in her daughters eyes.

“I did, it was something. The artist was actually mixing and mingling.”

“Is that why you look like you just slid honey on your tongue?” Reggias words caused a huge swell of laughter to gather in Abashas belly and spew forth. She laughed uproariously for several minutes.

“Whats so funny?” Reginald's voice cut through the feminine conversation. Glancing at him, Abasha nodded and started laughing again. Reggia held her breath because she didn’t want Abasha to start in on Aaron and him to get defensive.

“Just girl talk Reginald, did you eat?”

“I did, my old girl hooked me up. Im going to my room so yall can continue talking about me.” The laughter dried in Abashas throat.

“Reginald, you really take yourself entirely too seriously. You are not the highlight reel in anyones movie but your own. Now be a good little boy and go to your room.” He scowled at his sister.

I got your little boy.” He hissed. Abasha stood up, moving closer to his face. He was at least several inches taller than her but he knew Abasha didn’tt play with him.

“Watch your mouth Aaron; I am not impressed with you, at all. Dont disrespect me, ever. You got it.” He looked to their mom who was eating before nodding. “You had better. What you need to focus on instead of old girls is graduating and getting a job. I told you I will send you to community college if you work and handle your own.  Otherwise in a few months you need to be employed full time.” Nodding again, he walked down the hallway. He would talk back to moms but he knew his sister wasnt the one to disrespect. Sitting down, she continued as if they hadnt been interrupted.

“Yes, Shaka Fortune is some kind of fine but I’m sure I’m not his kind and I dont have a kind.”

“You never know child, stranger things have occurred.”