There’s Still Beauty in This Street Love: Her Fallen Angel by elle kayson

Author:elle kayson [kayson, elle]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Grand Penz Publications, LLC
Published: 2020-06-20T00:00:00+00:00

25

Tamar

I cut off a long portion of the braids, conditioned my hair, then handed Ángel a comb and some scissors. Even though I was unbraiding my hair, too, and talked him through the steps a few times, he was so scared of cutting my real hair that it took him a while to get comfortable. We detangled as we worked, and he asked me about my family, even though I knew he knew the basics from research.

“I was surprised when you introduced your dad as Tre. His first name is Myron, right?” he asked.

“Shiiiit! Let him hear you call him that. My mama gets away with it every once in a while. He wouldn’t even let Mama make Tre a junior. Daddy’s middle name is Tre’s first name. She tried again with us, wanted to name us Myron and Myesha, but Daddy vetoed that.”

“So that’s where your little alias came from,” he broke in.

I nodded. “I actually like that name.”

“And all of your initials are T.N.K.?”

“Yep, Tremell Nicholas, Tristan Neil, Tyrese Noble, Tamir Noah, and—”

“Y la más preciosa, Tamar Noelle,” he said softly.

The most precious. His words made me blush. Ángel called me a lot of little sweet names, but preciosa and mi corazón, my heart, were by far my favorites. I just nodded.

He opened up a little bit, mostly about his relationship with his Big Mama, whom I could tell he adored. He seemed to like his other Cruz family members even if he wasn’t really close to them. But he didn’t talk about his mom. I knew his Puerto Rican/Boricua heritage came from her side—the Cruzes’ Latino heritage was Mexican—and that’s all I knew. I was reluctant to bring it up, but I wanted to know him better.

“¿Ángel?”

“Hmm?” he said, busy unraveling one of the braids.

“What about… what about your mom’s people?” I asked hesitantly.

He went completely still. Fuuuuck! You had to ruin it, Tay, I scolded myself. I knew about the family he wanted me to know about. With Ángel, that might have to be enough. He started unbraiding again, but he wasn’t talking anymore. I felt bad, too bad to even try to fill in the silence. We’d been having a moment, and I destroyed it. Shit, I almost wanted to cry. I actually blinked back tears.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice gritty, his accent heavy. “I’m not mad at you. It’s normal to be curious. My mother is una puta not even worth talking about, Reina.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t remember ever hearing Ángel call a woman out of her name and here he was calling his mother a slut? That was some shit black and Latino men didn’t play. Since he was a mix of both, I knew shit was serious. I kept quiet, waiting to see if he would talk about her, even though he said she wasn’t worth it.

Finally, he spoke again. “My parents met here in Houston when my mother, Camila, moved down here for a little when she was in high school.

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