Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(52)

Oh, she talking to me now? I keep that to myself. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Give him some of that corn bread and pot liquor, too,” Granny says, poking his belly. “Get that baby some good country cooking. Formula ain’t worth nothing.”

I love my granny, man. She a short, round force of nature with a voice that seem bigger than her. When she talk, you listen. When she mad, you run. She claim her shotgun ain’t ever missed. She love me, no matter what, unlike Ma and Lisa. I don’t know which one of them two get on my nerves more.

“Mav baby, I brought something for you,” Granny says. “Look in them pans over there.”

I peek under the foil of the ones she point at. I find two pans of Granny’s mac and cheese, two corn bread dressings, and—oh, snap, some more corn bread dressing. “You made three pans of dressing?”

“I sho did,” she says, smiling. Granny got her dentures in today. She hate wearing them things. “I know my Mav baby love my corn bread dressing.”

I grin, but Ma go, “He’s not a baby. He makes babies.”

“Aw, hush, Faye,” says Granny. “He ain’t the first person to have a child as a teenager. Me and your daddy did. One baby don’t mean the end of the world.”

“It’s not one baby,” Ma says. “Lisa’s pregnant. He’s going to have two.”

Aunt ’Nita turn around. “Whaaaat—aw, hell!”

She drop the spoon in the pot.

I wanna disappear, man. I know my situation bad, yet it sound worse hearing it. It transform me from Maverick into the dumbass seventeen-year-old who screwed up and made two kids.

I may as well accept that that’s what I am, a dumbass.

“Lisa that short, high-yella gal he was dating?” Granny asks.

Ma nods. “That one.”

“Whew, chile! You fertile!” Granny says to me. “You look at a girl, and she get pregnant. Lord hammercy.”

My cheeks burning. I’d be a’ight with the floor eating me alive. “It wasn’t like that, Granny.”

“It never is. No wonder that one there holding his bottle. He getting out the way for the other one. Mm!” She shake her head. “Mm, mm, mm!”

The doorbell ring. God saving me, for real. “I got it.”

I have to step over folks in the living room to get to the front door. It’s probably Shawn or King. Shawn practically family, and he always come get a plate. Ma invite King every year so he won’t be by himself. I open the door, and it is King. I’m shocked as hell to see who with him.

Iesha draped all over King, like a girlfriend do a boyfriend except that can’t be right. My best friend would’ve told me that he was in a relationship with my son’s mama.

“What y’all doing here?” I ask.

Iesha’s face light up at the sight of Seven. “There go my big boy! Hey boo-boo!”

She reach for him, but I step back. “I said, what y’all doing here?”

“Who is it, Mav?” Ma asks, coming up the hall. “King! You made it. And—” Ma’s voice drop. “You brought Iesha?”

“Sorry we late, Mrs. Carter,” King says. He always real polite with Ma. “I appreciate the invitation.”

Ma look at me, and I swear I hear her go, What the hell? “Of course, baby,” she says out loud. “You’re like family. I didn’t know you were bringing somebody.”

“Oh, my bad,” King says. “I figured it was a’ight since Iesha is baby boy’s momma.”

Iesha hug up on him. “Mmm-hmm. I wanted to cook for my man at home, but he said we could come over here.” She lean up and kiss him all nasty.

Yoooooo, what the hell? My son’s momma is now my best friend’s girlfriend? This right off of one them “stories” Granny love to watch. Call this one All My Hood Children. Got my uncles and my cousins staring at us. We more interesting than the football game.

Ma purse her lips tight. “King, will you excuse us for a moment? Iesha and Maverick, follow me.”

It wasn’t a question but a command. Ma march straight to her bedroom. I take Seven in there with me, and Iesha follow us. Ma tell me to close the door. I do, and I’m pretty sure I hear the TV volume go way down. My nosy family wanna hear this one.

Ma fold her arms and zero in on Iesha. “Where have you been?”

“I told Maverick my situation weeks ago, okay?”

“Moving around shouldn’t stop you from checking on your child,” Ma says. “Our number is in the phone book, and it’s obvious you know where we live.”

“I wasn’t ready to deal with all that.”

“What? Being a parent?” I ask. “I have to deal with it every day.”

“Boy, please! I did it for three months by myself.”

“I been doing it longer!”

“Hey!” Ma snaps. “We will not have that back-and-forth, one-upping mess. And don’t make arguing in front of this child a habit. Cut it out now.”

Ma take a deep breath. “Now look, postpartum is hard, Iesha. I get that. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. However, you could’ve checked on your son. There is no excuse.”

Iesha wrap her arms around herself and stare at the floor. “I felt bad for leaving him and not being able to handle it.”