Messari leaned his head back curiously as he inspected Messiah. Morgan got goose bumps. Messari had her entire face, but that demeanor was all Messiah. His little brow bent. Messiah’s forehead filled with wrinkles. Lion and cub, Messiah and Messari squared off.

“You ain’t tough, G. What you looking at?” Messiah asked. The corner of his lip curved into a smirk.

“Mommy, who is him?” Messari asked, turning his head to Morgan.

“You a man. Ask me,” Messiah said as he sat Messari on the island in the center of the room. He placed his arms around Messari, leaning against the island as he stared the toddler in the eyes. Messiah’s heart ached.

“We used to dream about bad little niggas just like him, shorty. Damn, you really had another nigga’s kids. You wanted to touch a nigga where it hurt, didn’t you?” Messiah asked, voice dripping in angst as he stared Messari down.

Messari’s hands and eyes went to the chain around Messiah’s neck instantly. Anything shiny was like a magnet to Messari. He just had to touch it. Messiah didn’t seem to mind. Messari was yanking on the chain like it came out of a Cracker Jack box, and Morgan cringed.

“What’s you name?” Messari asked, head cocked to the side curiously. Messari pressed his forehead against Messiah’s and growled at him. The laugh that erupted from Messiah was one Morgan had never heard. It was free. Like he didn’t think twice about his amusement.

“Messiah, kid. My name’s Messiah,” he said.

Messari’s face lit up. “Mommy! Him name is like mine!”

“What’s your name, kid?” Messiah asked, smirking.

“Messari Benji Atkins.”

Morgan’s soul left her body. Messiah turned to stone. His back stiffened as he stood up straight and turned eyes of disbelief to Morgan.

She hurried to Messari, squeezing between him and Messiah, grabbing her son up and heading outside.

“Yo, Mo, what the fuck type of shit you on, shorty?” Messiah asked as he followed her.

Morgan ignored him as she headed over to the kiddie pool. “Yara, let’s go, baby,” Morgan signed urgently. She reached down and practically pulled off her baby’s arm as she dragged her across the lawn.

“Mo! What’s wrong?” Alani asked as she stood from the table.

Ethic looked up but didn’t stand as Morgan bypassed them. Messiah was on her ass.

“Shorty got some fucking explaining to do with her slick ass! That’s what’s wrong! Why the little nigga got my name, Mo?” he asked.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Alani asked, turning to Ethic.

“Nope,” Ethic answered.

Messiah pulled at Mo’s arm. She snatched it away.

“Stop touching me!” she shouted.

Yara felt the tension between them. Her little legs could barely keep up with Mo’s pace as Morgan dragged her along.

“The nigga got my name, Mo!”