He takes my hand, and we enter the restaurant. They start asking questions all at once. The story got around really quickly, and each time someone told it, I guess an element was added. To hear it told now, I put the CVS lady in the ER after breaking her nose, arms, and legs.

“Yo, let’s get on these clues,” Devonte says, rescuing me.

Nai takes out her tablet. Shawn, Dell, and Devonte do the same.

I can’t let this start without saying one thing first: “I just wanted to thank you guys for helping me.”

“This is not about you. I don’t really like you,” Shawn says playfully.

“Yeah, it’s about your mom,” Dell says. “Remember when I entered the national jazz festival and didn’t win, and I was about to give up on music? But your mom called me over to your house and introduced me to Wynton Marsalis. We played together. Do you understand? I played with Wynton Marsalis. All because of your mom. And when the session was over, she made us soul food. Soul food. That woman gets me.”

“I can’t believe I forgot about that,” I reply.

“And your mom is letting me stay at your place,” Nai says. “She didn’t have to do that. She also didn’t have to go down to the school and demand that they get another photographer for picture day.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that! In the first set of pics I couldn’t even find you, the light was so bad,” Dell says.

“Ms. Bosia was not having it. She insisted the school get someone who knew how to light dark-skin people. And when we got the second set of pics, it was so much better. I know it was only a fourth-grade class picture, but that meant a lot to me.”

“Was it her idea for you to wear a tiara?” Dell asks.

“No. It just felt right,” she replies. We all look at each other and try hard not to laugh at her.

“The last time I saw your mom, she was threatening to take my life if I mistreated you. And telling me where the condom drawer was in your house,” Devonte says.

My heart stops and my eyes are wide with shock. “She did what?”

“Yup, I ran into her at the corner store,” my boyfriend replies.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Nah, she wasn’t try’n to do me greasy. I mean, she did vow to end my life if I hurt you. But she also warned me about leaning too hard on track, and then . . .”

“Let me guess, she gave you a book?” I ask.