“What the fuck is this, Oran?”
I dodge the paper weight he throws at me. “I’m happy, asshole.”
“Is that what it looks like on you? Interesting.”
He scowls at me. “What in the hell do you want?”
“My fiancée,” I start with Imala’s new title just to be annoying, “has given us gold, my friend.”
“What in the hell are you trying to do with my angel?”
I laugh at his question. Has he met himself? “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Oran looks like he’s about to sweat. “Be happy we’re at work, asshole.”
“She’s in good hands. Why are you so damn happy?”
Oran turns the frame on his desk and that damn smile is back. “Karessa is pregnant.”
“Congratulations! Now I understand why you’re so happy your face hurts. Just one thing?”
“What?” Oran’s smile drops because he knows I’m back on my bullshit.
“How can you get one sister pregnant and try to cockblock the other?”
“I promised my angel I wouldn’t kick your ass, but your mouth is making me go back on my word.”
“Always so combative. They have therapy for that. Anyway, Imala found the money. It’s not going to different places, it’s all funneling to Hoboken, New Jersey.”
Oran freezes and I remember why the name is so familiar. “Like, where I was born?”
“Yup.” I slide Imala’s note across to him. “Ready to go play beneficiary and lawyer and find out what the fuck is going on?”
“Yes.” Ora
n nods. His perfectly coiffed black waves don’t move. “I’ll call security to get someone to go with us.”
Oran
I give my cousin shit but Wyn is the closest thing to an empath I’ve ever found. He can read the room like no other. Right now, I appreciate that trait. Especially as we park in front of a bank a few blocks from where I grew up. The memories of my mother are so thick, they almost choke me. Wyn doesn’t speak or try to joke with me. He lets me process. The driver opens the door, I take in all the changes and note the things that have stayed the same. The creamery we’d go to if we were celebrating still stands as one of the few things that remained the same. Biting back nostalgia, I snap into business mode, button my blazer and follow my security into the bank.
Wyn flanks me. Once we get the manager; he does all the talking. The manager, an older lady with kind eyes listens to him, looks over the information, and nods her understanding.
“And Elmer and Bethany are both deceased?” she asks, far more crestfallen than a stranger.
Her sad brown eyes study me and something familiar about them tugs at me.
“I’m so sorry to hear that Or Bear.”
What the fuck? Only one person called me that.
“Mrs. Agatha?”
“You remember me?” Her eyes tear up.
She was the closest thing to a grandmother I’ve ever had. She and my mom were neighbors and coworkers at the chocolate factory, they’d split shifts to take turns watching me. I hadn’t seen her since we were forced to move.
Rising, I pull her into a hug because she’s the last link to my mother.