02. Anthony’s Angel
ANTHONY HARRIS
the night before the toy drive…
Author Note: Ya’ll, Jackson’s voice sounds crazy on this audio at times, but it cracked me up so much that I left it for shits and giggles. So be warned if you choose to listen instead of read.“And that’s when I told her we splitting this shit 50/50. Next thing I know—bam—I’m wearing a whole damn daiquiri down at Ruby’s,” DeShawn said, slapping his cards down on the table like they owed him money. “Man, fuck that!”
The room exploded.
Bishop slid halfway off the armrest of the couch, clutching his stomach like he was one laugh away from needing CPR.
“What the hell y’all laughing at?” DeShawn barked, side-eyeing us like he didn’t just embarrass himself in front of the crew.
“50/50 is crazy!” Jackson wheezed, his laugh sharp enough to slice through the air like a switchblade. “Broke boy vibes! A real man ain’t going dutch. We raised you better than that. Fuck is your problem?”
DeShawn shook his head, his voice climbing like he was preaching to a congregation that wasn’t listening. “Man, these girls want too damn much these days. They want you playing sugar daddy off rip, trickin’ ten minutes after you meet ‘em.”
I smirked, leaning back in my chair, slow-shuffling my cards like I had all the time in the world to sit there and win. “Look, it ain’t trickin’ if you got it. And you, my guy… you don’t got it.”
DeShawn clicked his teeth so loud it was like he was trying to drown out The Lox playing low on the speakers. His glare hit me quick, hot, and sharp, but he wasn’t dumb enough to let it linger.
Instead, he folded his arms and grumbled, “Everybody ain’t got a billionaire brother like you, Ant. I’m out here scraping overtime at the plant while you living like Black Bruce Wayne. If my brother was D-Truth, I’d be ballin’ out too.”
The fuck?
“Aye, don’t try to play my boy like that,” Jackson said, his voice cutting through the noise, low and serious. “Ant been on his grind. He ain’t living off D. Don’t get it twisted.”
I gave Jackson a nod, letting his words settle the air. Thing about being D-Truth’s brother—folks always had their little assumptions. To them, we were all sitting on Derek’s dime, living easy while he conquered the world. Sure, he’d set our parents up nice, made sure they didn’t have to worry about a damn thing in this lifetime or the next. And yeah, back in the day, he broke me off with a lump sum that let me breathe easier than the average person. But that money? I didn’t blow it. I flipped it—investments, moves most people wouldn’t even think to make. Truth was, D hadn’t handed me a dime in years. There was no reason for it.
But I didn’t feel the need to put my net worth on a billboard. Millionaire or not, there wasn’t any reason to flex in this room. These were my day ones since elementary school. DeShawn, Reaper, Jackson, Bishop—we’d been through everything together since we were knee-high, back when we were more worried about dodgeballs than dollar signs. Nobody new made it into this circle. And that’s how I liked it. Out there, people always had a motive, some angle they were working. In here? Loyalty spoke louder than words ever could.
That’s why DeShawn should’ve known better. He knew me, knew I was my own man. I didn’t need my little brother’s money to shine. Derek might’ve had the world in his pocket, but I’d built my own lane, brick by damn brick.
I took a slow pull from my beer, the sharp bite of hops cutting through the music bouncing off the walls. I wasn’t about to explain myself—not to DeShawn or anyone else who felt the need to count my money like they worked at my bank. Let him think what he wanted; his opinions weren’t paying my bills, and I damn sure wasn’t about to pay his.
“Ant talking ‘bout trickin’, and we ain’t seen him with nobody in a minute,” Bishop said, leaning back like he’d just dropped breaking news on the six o’clock report. “You ain’t trickin’ on nobody but this property—buying horses and cows and shit.”
Jackson’s eyes flicked up from his hand, quick and cautious, scanning the room like he was checking for landmines before dropping back to his cards.
I shrugged, slow and easy, letting the comment roll off me like rain sliding down a windshield. “You know how it is. I gotta be raising my parents, they’re a handful, my brother’s back in town. Somebody’s gotta keep all of ‘em in line.”
“We in our mid-30s, and you ain’t had a real relationship since Keisha,” DeShawn said, like he was tossing a grenade just to see if it’d blow.
A low rumble churned in my chest as I tried to keep my expression unreadable.
“Why the hell would you even say her name?” Reaper sucked his teeth, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the stupidity.
“Just don’t look in the mirror and say it three times. She might pop up like Candyman,” Jackson joked, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
The room cracked up. Everyone except me. I couldn’t even fake a smile.
“Nah, for real, man,” Reaper said, his tone sliding into something more serious. “You need a lady in your life, Ant.”
“I date,” I said, tossing it out like a card I didn’t care to play.
“Barely,” Jackson shot back, quick with the jab.
“Man, y’all don’t get it. Every chick I meet tryna fuck with me just to get close to my brother. Nobody wants me. They want what they think comes with me—like I’m some kind of golden ticket. They don’t even realize I’m just a regular-ass dude. I take care of my parents. I’m a homebody. I game, play hoops with y’all, work my land, kick back on card nights, and vibe out to music. That’s it. I ain’t no rapper. I don’t live that lifestyle they want.”
The weight of my words settled over the room, blanketing the noise. Cards shuffled, beers got sipped, but no one dared say a thing. My boys weren’t perfect, but they knew when to fall back, give me room to breathe.
Being Derek Harris’s older brother had its pros and cons. The biggest con? Never knowing if people liked me for me or just for the connection to him. It was the kind of doubt that sat heavy in the back of my mind, even when I didn’t want it to.
But don’t get it twisted. As much as he got on my last damn nerve, I loved my little brother. I’d kill for him. No hesitation.
“D still a pain in the ass, still running around this bitch stirring up trouble,” Jackson said, smirking, knowing I was ready to change the subject. “Nigga grew up to be somebody, sure, but he’s still our annoying-ass little brother.”
I chuckled low, grateful for the shift, but before the moment could settle, Reaper’s voice sliced through the room like a razor. “Lyman was on TV talking shit about him,” he said, flat and cold, his tone sharp enough to turn the air heavy.
The laughter died quick, the weight of his words landing like a brick.
“Talking ‘bout shutting down the Jubilee ‘cause of D’s music,” he went on, his voice steady but simmering. “Like his words are poisoning the community. Meanwhile, Lyman’s hands? Ain’t never been clean.”
“Don’t speak on that,” Jackson cut in, his voice quick and clipped.
Reaper leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing tight over his chest, his eyes narrowing like he could see Lyman sitting across from him. “All I’m saying is this—these kids been looking forward to it. The whole damn town has. Who the fuck comes to Juniper? Nobody. And now they get a chance to see someone from here, someone who walked the same streets they did, went to the same broke-down schools they did, and made it global. D is real to them.
“And you wanna take that away? For what? A couple curse words they already hear at home? This ain’t about music. It’s about giving these kids a chance to dream bigger than they ever thought they could. And you wanna snatch that from them? Steal their hope?”
We all paused, turning to Reaper. The irony of it all. Reaper—the most caring, soft-hearted man you’d ever meet if you were lucky enough to stay on his good side—talking about kids like he had a Santa suit hanging in his closet. And yet, his name was Reaper for a reason. Cross him, and you might as well call your maker, because mercy wasn’t in his playbook.
He was a living contradiction. The kind of man who’d hold the door open for a grandmother in the morning and bury her no-good grandson by sundown. You couldn’t make sense of him, and we’d stopped trying years ago.
Just as I laid my card down, my phone buzzed against the table. I sighed, already bracing for it to be D—probably more drama about how he’d fumbled things with Destiny again. Them two had me just as stressed now as they did when we were all kids, but I could see my brother was trying. Really trying. So, I did my best to stay out of it despite my initial reservations about him trying to get her back.
As long as Destiny was happy and he kept her that way, we wouldn’t have no problems. Because even though she was his girl, she’d always felt like family to me—like a little sister. I loved her, just not the romantic way D did. All those years when he wasn’t around, when the industry had him running coast to coast chasing something bigger, I made sure she was straight. Checked in here and there, kept a little distance, but made it clear—whatever she needed, I was just a call away. That didn’t change, no matter what was or wasn’t going on between her and my brother.
But when I glanced at the screen, it wasn’t D’s name staring back at me. This one made me sit up straighter, my grip tightening on the phone like it might jump out my hand.
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“Mama Harris,” I answered.
“Anthony, the AC’s acting funny,” she said, jumping right in without so much as a hello. That was Mama for you. “Think you can come by early before the toy drive? We can make it through the night, but once that sun comes up tomorrow…” Her voice trailed off, a gentle nudge wrapped in the kind of worry only she could make sound sweet.
“Aight, Mama. No problem,” I said.
“Your daddy would’ve done it, but you know he can’t see worth a damn these days. And he makes me nervous trying to see out there at the night time—”
“I can see just fine!” Pops hollered in the background, his voice booming enough to make me grin.
“Don’t listen to him,” Mama said, her tone sharp but laced with affection. “He’s half-blind and too stubborn to admit it.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’ll be there before the sun comes up.”
“My eyes work just fine, Camielle,” Pops shot back, his voice booming like he was trying to remind the house who was boss. “What you calling that boy for? Like I’m not the one who taught him everything he knows.”
“Your eyes don’t work like they used to,” Mama fired back, not missing a beat.
“This dick work though—”
“Aye, man, chill!” I cut him off, shaking my head so hard I thought it might roll off my shoulders. “Don’t nobody wanna hear that.”
“You and your brother always acting like y’all don’t know how y’all got here,” Pops muttered, like he wasn’t the one bringing it up in the first place.
“Thank you, my baby,” Mama said, her voice softening as she ignored her husband’s nonsense. “You heard from your brother?”
“He’s straight, Mama,” I reassured her, keeping it short and light. “You know where he is. Pops told him to stay over there, remember?”
I chuckled to myself, thinking about Pops practically ordering Derek to stay at Destiny’s so him and Mama could keep getting their freak on in peace. I couldn’t stand their nasty asses sometimes. But, damn, if it wasn’t dope to see how crazy they still were about each other after all these years.
There was a pause, the kind that said more than words ever could. She sighed, a sound that carried years of love and exhaustion. “Alright then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you in the morning, Mama,” I said, hanging up as Pops started muttering something about his eyesight.
Sliding the phone into my pocket, I shook my head, a grin tugging at my lips. Family always came first.
“Your mama knows she can call them people, right? She got money,” DeShawn said, tossing his cards down like the round was over and so was the conversation.
Jackson smirked, barely glancing up from his hand. “Man, Mama Harris ain’t calling nobody for shit except Ant,” he said, his chuckle low and knowing. “She got all the resources in the world, but when something goes wrong? She’s only dialing one number.”
“That’s why he ain’t got no woman,” DeShawn added, leaning back like he’d just cracked the code on my entire life.
I shook my head, brushing it off like a fly that kept coming back. “Good. Shit. That’s a whole bunch of complications I don’t need.”
Jackson gave me a quick side-eye, barely tilting his head but cutting his eyes over his cards like he knew something I didn’t. What the hell was his problem tonight?
“Ant’ll find the right woman for him when it’s the right time,” Reaper said, his tone going soft, almost dreamy. It was the voice he only broke out when he was talking about his wife, Niecy.
Bishop groaned, dragging it out like he was in the middle of a death scene. “Aww shit, here we go.” He tossed his cards down like they’d personally offended him, knowing what was coming.
Reaper’s face lit up like a man about to deliver a sermon on Sunday morning, and I knew we were about to get hit with one of his Niecy testimonies. Couldn’t even be mad at him, though. For all his contradictions, Reaper loved hard. Maybe too hard sometimes, but that man would die for her without a second thought. You had to respect that kind of devotion.
“Bernice and me? We been locked the fuck in ever since the day we met at the bank—”
“Nigga, you was robbing the bank. She was your hostage,” Jackson cut in.
Reaper sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes like Jackson had just brought up some old dirt that wasn’t worth rehashing. “Why you always gotta bring up that part? That ain’t the point.”
DeShawn was already doubled over, damn near choking on his laughter. He wiped tears from his face, shaking his head. “Man, that girl got Stockholm syndrome!”
“I was good to her! Gave her water, brought her snacks. Didn’t raise my voice at her once!” Reaper fired back, his voice jumping an octave like he was building his case in court. “She saw the good in me! Ain’t my fault she got taste.”
The room exploded again, the laughter hitting deep, shaking the walls and my soul at the same time. But behind all the jokes and Reaper’s righteous indignation, there was something else—pride.
Bishop wiped tears from his eyes, still catching his breath, his laugh fading into a smirk. He straightened up like he was suddenly above it all. “Aye man, love that you found yourself a wife, but y’all gotta stop talking about these crimes in front of me,” he said, his tone dripping with mock authority.
“Man, fuck you and that little job you got down at the mayor’s office,” DeShawn shot back, leaning forward with a grin, always ready to stir the pot.
“Nigga, I’m Chief of Staff. Ain’t nothing little about that,” Bishop fired, puffing his chest just enough to remind us who he thought he was.
DeShawn waved him off, his grin spreading wider. “You still one of us no matter how many suits you got on, Bishop. Don’t forget that.”
“And that’s your problem,” Bishop snapped, his smirk slipping into something colder, sharper. “Always stuck in the past instead of looking at where you’re going. That’s why you’ve been down at that plant all these years—no raise, no promotion, no nothing. Just jogging in one damn spot while the world moves past you.”
The words hit like a match dropped into a puddle of gasoline.
DeShawn shot up from his seat, his face tight with anger, and Bishop wasn’t far behind him. One thing about those two—they were always one word away from throwing hands. Been like that since the playground days. Some shit never changed.
DeShawn had been running his mouth since we were kids, but lately, it had a little more heat behind it, like he was carrying some weight he hadn’t shared yet. And Bishop? Well, Bishop didn’t let shit slide, ever. He’d always had that chip on his shoulder, like he had something to prove, even with his perfect upbringing and that shiny job at City Hall.
Thing was, Bishop might’ve been the mayor’s right hand, but he was still with the shits if need be. The suits didn’t change that. He’d get his hands dirty just like the rest of us, then wipe them off and head to work like nothing happened. That duality made him dangerous—a man who could navigate both worlds without losing his footing. But it also made him unpredictable.
“Man, sit y’all asses down,” I said, my voice calm but carrying enough weight to let them know I wasn’t playing. “Y’all ain’t finna be fighting in my spot.”
“We can take it outside,” Bishop shot back, still bristling, but he didn’t move.
“Why can’t we ever get together without y’all acting like some damn hoodlums?” Reaper shook his head, his disgust so thick you could cut it with a knife.
“Hey, Ant,” Jackson cut in, grinning wide enough to show off his gold teeth, ignoring the whole mess like it wasn’t even happening. “Looks like you gotta rob a bank to find the love of your life.” He leaned back in his chair, his laugh cutting through the tension.
Eventually, the two dumbasses sat down, their grumbling fading into the background as the game picked back up. Like clockwork, we all acted like the shit hadn’t even happened.
“I’m straight,” I said, laughing as I shook my head. “Like I told y’all, I’m good. Ain’t nobody in Juniper for me, and I sure as hell ain’t leaving. It is what it is.”
“You ain’t seen everybody in Juniper,” Jackson pressed, his tone teasing but with a little curiosity creeping in, like he wanted to see if I’d bite.
“I seen enough,” I said, my voice cutting through the table chatter with a firm edge, shutting the door on the conversation before it could even start.
“There’s probably a diamond in the rough you’re overlooking,” Reaper said, his voice softer, almost thoughtful.
“Doubt that,” I said with a smirk, flipping my cards onto the table with a snap that echoed through the room.
But then, out of nowhere, her face flashed across my mind. A woman from earlier today. She walked right into me—literally.
I’d been parked in the plaza, sitting in my truck, handling some business on the phone, when I noticed her. She looked rushed, like the weight of the day was pressing on her shoulders. Butter pecan skin that seemed to glow even under the dull light of the overcast sky. Thick, curly hair that framed her face like it had been sculpted for her. She was...beautiful.
I caught myself watching her as she slipped into the Utility Office. She was talking to Josie, and I couldn’t help but watch their interaction. Her face had this softness to it, even when she wasn’t smiling. Pretty as hell. The kind of pretty that made me forget what I was even talking about. But a girl like that? She had to belong to somebody. No ring on her finger, though. I noticed that.
I don’t even know what I was thinking when I hopped out of my truck and walked inside. No plan, just moving on instinct as I hung up on who I was talking to. And just like that, she bumped into me. She hadn’t even seen my big ass standing there, she was so in her head and it made me wonder what about.
Her voice, sweet and soft, hit my ears like the first chord of your favorite song. I made sure she was good, played it off like I was there to see Josie. Asked her if she was planning to come to the toy drive, all while my eyes kept drifting to her out the corner of my vision as she walked out and drove away.
As much as I wanted to kick some game, I held back. I’d probably break her heart. Worse, maybe she was like everyone else.
There was always that voice in the back of my head reminding me—people see me as a shortcut. A come-up. I’d been burned before, and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. So I tucked the thought of her away and focused on what I always focus on: my family and keeping my shit together.
“One thing I know,” Reaper said, his voice low, almost reverent, like he was sharing a truth too heavy to say out loud until now. “Love comes outta nowhere. Hits you when you least expect it—and when it does, it don’t just tap you on the shoulder. It crashes right into you, flips your whole world upside down.”
The room went still. His words settled over us like the quiet after a storm, heavy but not unwelcome. Even DeShawn, usually quick to toss out a joke, stayed silent, his focus locked on his cards like they held some kind of answer.
Reaper leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The kind of smile that came from knowing something the rest of us hadn’t figured out yet. “Ain’t no way to prepare for it, either. All you can do is hold on and hope like hell it’s worth the ride.”
His words hung in the air, echoing in my head longer than I cared to admit. Love crashes into you.
Was that what today was? That woman... her face, her voice, the way she moved like life had been heavy on her but she wasn’t letting it crush her. Had she been a crash?
Nah, fuck all that. Love wasn’t some fairytale moment you get lost in. It was just another weight to carry. Another responsibility to juggle when I already had too many.
My parents. My brother. Destiny. And the secret I kept tucked so deep inside me that letting it out would change the way all of them looked at me in the light. My life wasn’t built for being in love. It was built for them. Making sure they were good, no matter the cost.
There wasn’t room for anyone else. No matter how soft her voice was or how sweet she looked. My world was already heavy enough, and I’d made my peace with that a long time ago.
Reaper’s words still circled in my head, but I shook them off, focusing on the game in front of me. Cards slapped the table, laughter spilled out, and for a moment, everything felt steady. Normal.
Then my phone buzzed again.
The screen lit up, and I froze, my chest tightening as I recognized the number.
That unsaved number.
It sat there, glowing in the dim light, a stark reminder of everything I’d locked away. My hand hovered over the phone for half a second before I pulled it back like it burned.
“Ant, you good?” Jackson asked, his voice cutting through the fog creeping into my mind.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, brushing it off, my tone sharper than I meant. “Just a spam call.”
I flipped the phone face down on the table, the vibration rattling against the wood one last time before silence fell.
I forced a grin, tossing out a joke to shift the focus back to the cards, back to the bullshit we’d been drowning ourselves in all night. But my mind? It was stuck on that call.
That number wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was the secret tied to it.
No matter how much I ignored it, buried it, pretended like it didn’t exist, it was always there.
Waiting.
And tonight, it felt closer than ever.
READER QUESTIONS:
1. What do you think Anthony’s refusal to “flex” his success says about his character? How does his relationship with his friends and his brother, D-Truth, influence how he sees himself?
2. How does the crew’s banter about relationships, money, and loyalty reveal their different perspectives on life? Do you think they truly understand what Anthony is looking for in a partner—or in his own life?
3. Anthony struggles with the idea of being seen as a “shortcut” because of his brother’s fame. How do you think this impacts his ability to trust others, especially when it comes to relationships?