Page 64 of Big Mad
“Texas,” I muttered, since all he did was offer a halfhearted wave.
“Okay, Texas. Come in.” She tapped her fingertips against her thigh. “I’ll leave you to this.”
As she strolled away from the living room, I came alive and rushed to the door, hugging the guy who would always be my little “Incredible Hulk” brother. “Tex, where the hell have youbeen?” Yep, the bass behind my tone firmly cemented me into that role too. “How are you?”
“I can’t call it,” he replied in that slow, smooth drawl. I riddled him with questions about the Dollar Tree, and he stared at me as if he had the number to the nearest psychiatric paddy-wagon on speed dial.
Okay, maybe Washington’s father got that wrong? Ezekiel had seen Wash and Montana only a handful of times since he had gone to prison when they were little. Safe to say it was an honest mistake.
“Don’t know nothing about all that. Got your text, though.” He held up that raggedy phone with its one-inch screen and large, ancient button numbers. Damn burner phone model had to be his age. Montana had told Washington that neither PI could track his number because of it.
“So, you had that but couldn’t call nobody?”
“Sis, all y’all’s texts, calls? I’m surprised the phone didn’t explode in my hand. Can’t even play Tetris.”
“Texas!” I gasped, strolling toward the kitchen with him in tow.
“Nah! Y’all asses owe me a new phone.”
“I see you still have that don’t-give-a-crap sense of humor. Cute.” I pulled a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge and snorted when he gave me a half-serious look, even though I knew he was kidding. “Okay, we’ll all pitch in. Five bucks each should get you another piece ofcrap.”
“Madison? Language,bébé!” The so-not-a-saint placed his hand on his chest.Boy, please.
“Where have you been?” I handed him the glass of tea.
“Bruh, no ice?”
“No!”
“Can you at least make me breakfast,gran sœr?” He smirked, calling me big sister.
Dude knew my buttons. I’d always wanted a baby brother. “Yeah, sit.”
“I hope you gave Wash half this attitude.”
“Oh, I did.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,bébé!”
Chuckling, I got to work. As I chopped vegetables for an omelet and warmed a pot for instant grits, Texas sat at the table, arms folded, face hidden. Then came the sound of snoring.
Lord, don’t let him be coming down from something.
I jotted a quick text to his brothers. We thought he was selling drugs. He’d sold them in high school, so it wasn’t a stretch. He was a decade younger than Washington and even tried to hustle dime bags at Aquatic Park when visiting us for our wedding. So far, he’d avoided issues with the law. But who was after him?
“Tex, Texas?” I felt half bad as I woke him, eyes watering for too many reasons.
“Why are you crying,chère?”
“Your momma prayed way too much for you to …” I shook my head. Not my place to judge him.
“Go on, finish what you got to say,” he replied, voice a low rumble.
“Nah, I won’t judge you.”
He chuckled. “I remember when I went to your wedding in Cali. Your family looked like they’d groomed you to become a Supreme Court Justice. You never looked down at me.”
“You were fourteen, a kid. A cute … busy kid.”
