When a Ho Grows Old

Present Day

“You didn’t have to speak to Dad like that, Talia,” Keegan chided.

“Well, if he can’t handle the heat, he should stay out of the kitchen,” Talia shrugged, cool and unbothered.

Steady, Talia.
Not because she was flustered, but because restraint was power. Dusty behavior didn’t deserve full voltage. They’d get just enough to feel it.

The retirement home smelled like old shame and stale disinfectant. Down the hall, a game show host's forced laughter crackled from an ancient TV while a walker scraped slowly across the tile. The air was thick—too warm, too tight. A setup. But Talia wasn’t the girl who used to flinch in rooms like this.

She’d come for one reason: Jean turned 85 on Christmas. No invitation. Just an impulse. A flicker of curiosity. A final confirmation.

And just like clockwork, the Dusty regime was performing.

While their father scampered off like a mutt who’d peed on the rug, the lieutenants stayed behind, fully uniformed.

“That’s what you do, Talia. Right, Zane?” Keegan barked. “This is what you always do. You never think about the family.”

Talia almost laughed.
Game on.

“That’s rich coming from you,” she said. “Were you thinking of family when you bullied me into co-signing that car you let get repossessed? When you disappeared for ten years and took your kids with you? When you threw me out—three times?”

Keegan’s face tightened. Zane glanced away. She wasn’t finished.

“And you, Saint Zane. Let’s talk family values. Starving your kids out, cycling through wives like undershirts, showing up for help but never offering it. You two aren’t family-oriented. You’re opportunists. Parasites. Just like him.”

The words sliced. Keegan blinked hard. Zane’s fingers twitched. Talia watched the silence spread.

“So go on. Care for your king Dusty alone.”

“I knew you would—”

“Back off, Jack Jr.,” Talia snapped, and Keegan flinched. That flinch told Talia everything. They thought they could still touch her. They couldn’t.

“Let’s talk about your ‘godly’ dad. Let’s talk about the thirteen foreclosures. The unpaid gigs. The beatings. The cheating. The sexual harassment case y’all were too scared to ask about. The Jaguar he bought while Mom carried the house on her back. The lies he fed you about her. The fact that she moved him to Texas because he was unemployable in California.”

She scanned their faces.
Shock. Disbelief. That flicker of recognition.

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

She let the silence sit—hot, ugly, and honest.

“So no. I’m not housing that man. If you’re feeling generous, open your own doors.”

“But you have all that land—” Keegan started.

And there it was. The tell.

Talia’s stomach tightened. How did they know?

Steady.
She breathed. She was no longer twenty, no longer weak. She was sovereign now.

“You’re right. I do. And just like you had the right to hide that Jaguar, I have the right to say hell no.”

Keegan's mouth hung open.

“You’re the only one who knows how to drop a bomb, Kiki.”

Talia turned to Zane, who studied the floor.

“Cat got your tongue, Pinocchio? Nothing to say for Geppetto over here?”

Zane mumbled, “Real mature, Talia.”

“I don’t think either of you would recognize maturity if it pimp-slapped you across the face. So on that note—get bent.”

She turned and walked out, flipping them the bird with a smile.

Outside, her chest tightened. She did a quick scan.

Find five black things.
Light post. Trash can. Man with a laptop bag. Iron gate. Her own hand.

Five. Technically brown. Close enough.

She burst out laughing.

She caught her reflection in the mirror—a smiling, sober, land-owning, unbothered woman. She took her first deep breath of the day.

She shouldn’t have come. And yet, it was worth it. The final test. Confirmation: they hadn’t changed. But she had.

She used to hope they’d done the work. That maybe they’d softened. But hope, unchecked, was just disappointment waiting for a place to land.

She loved them. She really did. From a distance. No more offering herself up to fix people who liked being broken.

In her twenties, she drank to survive them. Her liver almost paid the price. But now, she was a decade sober, clear-headed, and finally at peace.

Yes, she had land. A lot of it. And they’d never set foot on it.

They didn’t even know that three of their own children—Keegan’s two oldest, and Zane’s oldest boy—had already lived with her. The kids knew. Knew what their parents were. Knew where peace lived. And Talia opened the door, no questions asked.

She looked back in the mirror and whispered, “I love you. I’m proud of you. You did it.”

Later that day, Talia sat in the study she built for her mom, Valerie, who laughed until tears streamed down her face.

“You said what?!”

“Don’t start nothin’, won’t be nothin’,” Talia smirked.

Her mom wiped her eyes. “There’s no way Jack’s setting foot on this property—”

“Correct,” Talia nodded. “If God Himself tells me otherwise, I’ll consider it. But right now? He’s chillin’. And so am I.”

Valerie beamed. She looked lighter now. Divorce would do that to a woman who’d carried a family on her back for decades.

“Did he say anything?”

“He tried. Called my RAV4 ‘bougie.’ So I reminded him it wasn’t as bougie as the Jaguar he hid while you paid the bills.”

They both cracked up.

“Oh, and apparently, he’s living in some crusty ADU behind a cousin’s house.”

Valerie’s smile faltered. “I might’ve… accidentally let it slip. About the land.”

Talia shrugged. “It’s fine. Keegan could get intel out of a CIA black site. You didn’t stand a chance.”

Then, with a devilish grin, she added, “The old man should’ve bagged himself a HO-01K.”

“A what?”

“You know. Like a 401K. But for hos. He should’ve secured a sugar mama before retirement.”

Valerie howled.

“His buddy Bill did it right—lived shady, buried his wife, and now he’s in Belize with a twenty-something named Crystal.”

Valerie shook her head. “I’m just glad I got out. One more year with him, and I might’ve had a stroke.”

“I’m glad you did too. He would’ve killed you eventually—if not your body, then your soul.”

Valerie nodded. Quiet. Agreeing with more than just the words.

Talia leaned back. Her voice calm, but sharp.

“When a ho grows old,” she said, “they’re just another sorry man with nothing left. They spend their prime sowing chaos, thinking they’re untouchable. But when winter comes, nobody wants them. New hos take their place. And when the music stops, they’re the only one without a seat. Then they vanish. Like they were never there.”