Page 29 of Color Me Broken
The car erupted with laughter, and the night rolled on. Loud. Reckless. Real.
Across town, Juelz decided to hit up Mar’s house because the crew was there watching the game. Tasha was out with the girls, and he was tired of pacing the living room. Shyann had texted to meet up with him, but he knew he wasn’t going that route tonight. Twenty minutes later, he was pulling up, already hearing the noise before he even stepped inside. Laughter, a game running too loud on the TV, and the smell of weed mixed with fried fish grease were trailing through the air.
Walking through the house, the first thing he caught sight of was MJ, Mar's seven-year-old son, at the kitchen table, hunched over a half-finished worksheet with his pencil tapping as if he were irritated. Crayons and a math book were scattered across the table, paper balled up on the floor.
Juelz leaned against the fridge, watching him for a second. “Man, you in here lookin’ stressed out like you balancin’ a check book. What they got you workin’ on?”
“Homework,” MJ replied, still scribbling.
“Get off then, MJ. Whatcha tryna be when ya grow up?” Juelz asked, smirking, eyeing his worksheet.
MJ finally looked up, his face unreadable. “Might as well be a janitor.”
Juelz was confused. Folding his arms across his chest, eyeing MJ. “A Janitor? Why the hell you wanna be a Janitor?”
MJ leaned back, looking to see if the coast was clear. “Because every time I turn around, I’m cleaning up this nasty ass house.”
Juelz damn near choked laughing, slapping MJ upside his head. “You hell, boy.”
From the back, Lameeka, Mar’s wife, hollered, “MJ! Don’t get your ass whooped, boy. I told you about that cussing shit. You ain’t grown yet. Furthermore. The house wouldn’t be dirty if y’all cleaned up behind y’all asses. But naw! Y’all think I’m Hazel the fucking maid ‘round this muthafucka. Ma, do this. Ma, cook that. Ma… Bae… Ma… just all day long. But you wanna complain.”
MJ shrugged, “Now you don got her started,” he said, going back to his worksheet, and shaking his head. Juelz kept moving through the house as Meeka yelled back out, “You damn right.”
“Look at thisLauryn Hillass nigga. Always fuckin’ late,” Kane cracked the second Juelz stepped through the door, a grin stretched across his face. “Waddup, doe? You glowin’ nigga, lookin’ like a damn yellow ass highlighter. Tasha musta gave yo ass some pussy, huh?”
Juelz smirked, sliding down onto the couch between Kane and Sintonio, his chain shining under the chandelier. “Nah, nigga. Yo mama did.” He took his finger across Kane's nose. “Smell good too, don’t it, nigga.”
The room broke into laughter. Kane got in a fighting stance. “Nigga, I’m bout to fuck you up.”
Mar, lounging in his recliner with a plate on his lap, shook his head. “Y'all niggas never let up.”
Juelz nodded. “That nigga started with me. I just came thru the door.”
Mar hit his blunt one time, inhaling. “You want somethin’ to eat, nigga?” He passed the blunt.
Juelz took the blunt, sitting back on the sofa. “Hell yeah. I’ll take a plate.”
Mar nodded, leaning over in the recliner. “Aye, Meeka! Bring my nigga Jue a plate of that catfish, and a cold Corona.”
“Aight! Give me a minute,” Lameeka yelled from the other room.
Juelz cut his eyes at Mar as his lips twisted into a grin. “Nigga, now you know damn well I’m allergic to seafood, bitch.”
The room erupted. Mar sat up, chuckling. “Oh, my bad, nigga. Aye, bae! Scratch the fish. Fix this hypoallergenic nigga a chicken tender plate with a Capri Sun. You want some Motts too, nigga?” Mar asked, pointing at Juelz. “Bring this nigga a Mott fruit snack on the side too.”
From the kitchen, Meeka hollered back, “Don’t do Juelz like that, Mario.”
Sintonio was cracking up, the blunt halfway to his lips. “Y’all niggas crazy, man.”
Juelz was still laughing, adjusting his chain around his neck. “What y'all niggas been on lately? Sintonio, I already know where yo ass been.”
Sintonio put his beer on the side table. “Tell me where I been, nigga. Since you know me so well.”
“Shit, stuck in the house with all those damn kids. I bet Niyah ass on lock right now,” said Juelz.
Sintonio shifted in his seat, mean-mugging but grinning at the same time. “Muthafucka, how she on lock, when she out with Tasha ass right now, nigga.”
The room cracked up again, Kane almost choking on his drink. “Gotcha ass there, bud.”
