Page 163 of Certified To Handle You 2

“Yes, you is,” I told him. “You been in this bitch ten minutes and said about six words. You usually got somethin’ to say about everything.”

Kay’Lo looked back at me and shook his head. “I’m just lookin’.”

“Then look and talk at the same time.”

He ain’t respond, and that shit started botherin’ me.

We moved upstairs, but I paid more attention to him than I did the house. The second floor had six bedrooms, each one with its own bathroom and closet. The main suite took up most of one side with a sittin’ room, a private balcony and two closets big enough for Sha’Nelle to fill one and still complain she needed more space.

I stepped in the main bathroom and looked over the deep tub, double shower and windows facin’ the back of the property.

“This her shit right here,” I said while pointin’ toward the tub. “She would live in that bitch.”

Kay’Lo stood in the doorway without answerin’.

I turned all the way toward him. “A’ight, what the fuck wrong with you?”

Kay’Lo looked down, then back at me. His face had that same expression he wore whenever he was tryna figure out how to tell somebody somethin’ they wasn’t gon’ like.

That made my nerves start movin’.

“Everybody good?” I asked. “Toni straight? ‘Lo’Lo straight?”

“They good,” Kay’Lo assured me.

“Auntie Treasure? Uncle Kwame?”

“Everybody good.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Kay’Lo let out a breath and rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “I heard somethin’ last night.”

I stared at him. “About what?”

He went quiet again, and my patience started runnin’ out.

“‘Lo, spit the shit out,” I told him. “You standin’ here lookin’ sick, and I ain’t finna keep guessin’.”

Kay’Lo looked at me for a few seconds before finally speakin’. “It’s about Sha’Nelle.”

Everything inside me pulled tight, but I kept my face normal. “What about her?”

Kay’Lo looked away before answerin’. “She marryin’ that nigga.”

For a second, I honestly thought I heard him wrong.

My eyebrows pulled together while I stared at him. “What?”

“Sha’Nelle engaged,” he said, keepin’ his voice low. “That nigga proposed to her.”

The words made no damn sense. I stood in the middle of this big ass bathroom lookin’ at my cousin while my mind refused to connect what he said to anything real.

“Nah,” I replied. “You got some shit mixed up.”

“I don’t,” he told me.

“Yes, you do,” I insisted.