Chapter 2
“I still cannot believe you’re about to run one of the most talked about salons in the city, Kennedy! I would be telling everyone if I were you, especially the bitches who worked there when Mya ran it. You know, they didn’t fuck with you like that, but you were cool as hell to me. Mya is gon’ shit her pants when she finds out, wherever the hell that hoe moved to. The grand opening is all over social media, so she won’t miss it. It’s in two weeks, right?”
Kennedy gave a tight-lipped smile while staring across the restaurant table at her old coworker, who was stuffing her mouth with pasta but still found time to run her dick suckers nonstop. When Kennedy saw Ronnie’s name on the list of applicants, she decided to take a chance on her so that she’d have at least one familiar face in the salon. She’d forgotten how much the girl could talk.
“Yes, it’s in two weeks. I—”
“You’re a little last minute with searching for stylists, ain’t you? Then again, I bet you were looking for a while. I could tell when we worked together that you’re picky.” Ronnie blabbered on between chewing before Kennedy could finish her sentence. “How many stylists do you need?”
“I haven’t decided how many booths I plan to rent out yet, but I’m evaluating my options tonight to make a final decision.”
She reached for her lemon water to sip while mentally scratching Ronnie off that list. Kennedy preferred a group of likeminded women who were about their business and less about bumping their gums to the latest hot topic in the streets. With how much Ronnie had run her mouth during their short interview, Kennedy could imagine the number of times her name had fallen from the bitch’s lips after the salon had been set ablaze with her inside.
Although she didn’t show it or admit aloud, she was anxious for everyone to see how far she’d come since then while they believed she’d lost it and had no choice but to style hair in the spare bedroom of her apartment. Her money hadn’t slowed down, but managing a salon would put her name back on the map. The irony of running the same spot that’d almost killed her made her smirk while setting down her drink.
“Well, if you don’t have any more questions, Ronnie—”
“Actually, I do,” she cut in, and Kennedy willed her eyes not to roll. “Do I get to see the salon?”
“We’re still doing renovations. Once it’s done, I’ll have the girls I hire come in to look around before the opening.”
“I can’t wait. You’re bourgeois, so I know it’s gon’ be niceee,” she dragged with a bob of her head before flinging her orange wand curled hair over a shoulder.
Kennedy studied the bold wig before further confirming Ronnie wasn’t quite up to par with the hairdressers she strived to hire. The lace was well melted, but the ombre dye job was patchy and could use some work.
She refrained from telling Ronnie that because it’d only make it harder to beat those picky and bourgeois allegations she’d obviously been stamped with while she was none the wiser. Kennedy honestly didn’t give a damn. She’d wear the title with a smile if it meant not settling for the bare minimum because her big brother had taught her to not accept or strive for anything but the best. Ronnie fell short in both departments.
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.” Kennedy settled on that reply instead while lifting a hand to summon their server. “Don’t worry about paying, either. It’s on me.”
“See, you’re aight with me, Kenn. You should come out with me and my girls some time. I don’t mind if you bring a few of your people with you, so you won’t feel uncomfortable.”
“Going out isn’t my scene, but thanks for the invite.”
“Girl, why not? You better not let what happened to you stop you from living your life.”
Ronnie flung her purse onto her shoulder with that advice—her eyes wavering to the burns along the side of Kennedy’s face that she’d tried not staring at since taking a seat. It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, but it damn sure obliterated the former image her ex-coworker held. If Ronnie had gone from bombshell to average, she wouldn’t step foot outside either.
The Kennedy she recalled had walked around with a flawless beauty worth envying, an uppity attitude, and fly ass gear that made the salon speculate whether her boyfriend was a drug dealer. Ronnie lowkey felt like Kennedy was meant to end up in that fire instead of Mya. The girl needed some humbling, but from their conversation, Ronnie concluded the incident hadn’t done its job.
“It has nothing to do with what happened to me,” Kennedy rebutted, unable to contain the curl of her lip as she grilled Ronnie. “I’ve never been big on clubbing.”
“Oh, okay. I just assumed you were since you’re cool with that Michi girl. Her and her nigga are always on the scene. Isn’t Tekken your family, too? I remember him coming to the shop to see you. You can’t tell me, you don’t go to his hostings, at least.”
Ronnie’s prying evoked a wry laugh from Kennedy as it registered that the offer to hang out wasn’t genuine. The bitch only wanted to weasel her way into a circle that Kennedy often forgot the magnitude of. Her girls and nephew were just regular people to her, so it slipped her mind that anyone would want to get next to her for a moment in their spotlight. She gave a subtle shake of her head while digging inside her purse as the server strolled to their table.
The girl smiled before holding out the point-of-sale terminal toward Kennedy, who shoved her credit card into the slot, accepted the amount, and then left a decent tip. She stowed away her card in its rightful place before addressing Ronnie.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t go to Michi or Tek’s hostings. I let them handle their business while I handle mine. Business is what your ass should’ve been worried about at this interview and not gossiping about who I hang with or whether I live my damn life. Have a good day, Ronnie.”
Ronnie jerked back her head at the blatant dismissal and scooted out of the torn leather booth. It didn’t bother her one bit to go since she’d been putting on a front since she got there. She couldn’t stand Kennedy any more than the other stylists that used to work with her, and the only reason she’d applied to rent a booth was because the salon would bring in a shit load of clients off the strength of Titan and his notoriously well-known family promoting it. Ronnie hadn’t known who was running the place until she received an email from Kennedy.
“You’re still a bitch,” she sneered, giving Kennedy a once over in detest before she smirked. “Now, you’re as ugly on the outside as you are in, and that shop ain’t gon’ last either.”
“Get the fuck away from this table before I put your face through it, Ronnie.”
Kennedy stood and pulled back her braids to wind into a ball with that threat, causing the server to give them a few feet of space in case a fight ensued. Ronnie didn’t move to save face, but the testing smirk Kennedy gave as if she was waiting for a reason to swing, made her second guess talking shit. She hadn’t thought the stuck-up stylist who’d acted as if she were too good to speak to anyone during the months that they’d worked together had it in her to fight. She was mistaken.
“I’ve got a lot of fucking pent up frustration, so please try me,” Kennedy begged in a final warning. Ronnie waved her off with a roll of her eyes.
“You ain’t even worth it. Fuck you and that shop.”
She strutted off with her chin held high, bumping the server in passing because it was the most she could do. Kennedy would’ve stomped Ronnie into the ground if she’d tried that shit with her.
She gave the server a pitying smile before grabbing her purse and phone off the table. When she spun around, her steps faltered as the chick sitting in the booth across from hers stood at the same time, aligning their steps as she headed for the door.
“So, I take it, she didn’t get the job?” the pretty girl who looked around the same age as her nephew quizzed, enlightening Kennedy that she’d been eavesdropping on her conversation. “I wasn’t intentionally being nosey, I swear, and I’m probably coming off very forward.”
“You are,” Kennedy retorted, glancing at her with a frown. The girl swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat and continued.
“I apologize, but I couldn’t help it since I’ve been searching for a salon to work at, too. From the way that girl’s mouth wouldn’t stop moving, and your expressions, I could tell that she wasn’t getting the position. My name is Ryell.”
She held out a hand, and Kennedy angled her head, debating whether to snap on the girl who’d intruded on her conversation or to hear her out. Kennedy found it ironic that a stranger had caught on to her mood but not Ronnie, who’d sat right in her damn face for the span of just under an hour. She remained silent, observing the technique of the sleek bob Ryell rocked with feathered baby hairs, false lashes that weren’t overly excessive, and makeup that blended well with smooth, dark skin. The girl was a cutie.
The scrutiny made Ryell tuck her hair behind an ear with the hand she’d held out long enough to become embarrassed. A soft smile she hadn’t expected blossomed on Kennedy’s face.
“You’re hard of hearing?”
Kennedy stared at the device tucked behind Ryell’s earlobe. She’d seen Pierre’s son with a similar electronic aid in the posts on Tima’s social media page.
“Yea. I caught meningitis when I was four and it caused me to get sensorineural hearing loss. I can hear certain sounds without my aids, but most are muffled or hard to grasp if there’s a lot of noise around.”
“Like in a restaurant,” Kennedy deduced with a nod. “My homegirl’s sister has a boyfriend whose son is deaf. He just got surgery to help with it.”
“Cochlear implants. I thought of doing that, but when they told me that it could cause me to lose the bit of hearing I have left, I chickened out. Plus, people would stare at me even more with devices attached to my damn head, so yea. It’s rare I get positive reactions like the one you gave.”
“Trust me, I get it.”
Kennedy pushed open the door for them to exit the restaurant before stopping on the sidewalk. She swept her braids over a shoulder, revealing the scars etched along her sideburn, jawline, and downward onto her neck.
“I noticed,” Ryell admitted with a light smile. “Once you have an abnormality, you tend to pick up on everyone else’s without trying. It’s as natural as decoding facial expressions or reading lips.”
“I was wondering how you noticed Ronnie was getting on my damn nerves, but it makes sense now. How old are you, Ryell?”
“Twenty. I know you may think that’s young to work in a salon setting, but my work ethic and skills will speak for themselves. I’m mature for my age, and I’ve been doing hair since I was thirteen.”
“You did your own hair?”
“Yep, always. I did my makeup and lashes too, but I prefer doing hair.”
“Do you have a license?”
Ryell’s shoulders slumped. “No. I guess that concludes our conversation, huh?”
“It doesn’t,” Kennedy replied with a laugh. “And if you really want something, don’t just give up the second you think someone will tell you no. I’m sure you’re aware, you can’t do hair in a salon without a cosmetology license, but you can work there as an apprentice. Apprenticeship hours are another way to get your license.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. Hold up... are you...” Ryell’s eyes lit in excitement at the prospect of working in a salon.
“I didn’t think about it until now that we’ll need help around the shop. Booking appointments for call-ins, washing hair if we’re super busy, and light cleaning. You are younger than what I planned to hire, but I like you. I can’t say that about people often.”
“I’ll do whatever you need me to. Thank you so much!” she screamed, practically bouncing on her toes as Kennedy sniggered.
“I got you. Take my card and email me. We’ll go from there.”
She dug in her purse for a business card to give Ryell before they parted ways. As she hurried to her car, a content smile spread on her face because she was giving a young girl the chance to grow and learn in their field, which was better than hiring an experienced stylist who neither liked nor respected her. Ronnie would’ve, more than likely, cause tension in her establishment. Kennedy refused to allow one rotten apple to spoil the atmosphere she desired for the salon.
The thought to tell Savvy about the debacle that had taken place made her reach for her phone once she’d hopped inside her car. She cranked the engine and then went to her contacts to do so, but an incoming call thwarted her attempt. Her eyes rolled as she answered for Lexi.
“Bitch, where is my money?” She skipped the formalities and got straight to the point. “I know you got it, ‘cause yo baby daddy ain’t broke. I did your big ass head two days ago. This is why I don’t do that I’ll pay you tomorrow bullshit.”
“That’s why I’m calling your rude ass! He just dropped the money in my account today because he was being petty and wouldn’t send it until he talked to Promise.”
“Mhmm, okay.”
Kennedy left it at that since she found it reasonable for Pierre to hold off on sending cash whenever Lexi acted childish and took their daughter’s iPad so that he couldn’t contact his baby girl. Lexi only did it so that her baby father wouldn’t have a choice but to call her phone.
After witnessing some of her girl’s immature tactics, it made Kennedy grateful that she’d gone against her nephew’s wishes and helped his little side piece abort their baby. Tekken could’ve been in the same position. She figured her curt response made it obvious that she didn’t agree because, instead of going off on a tangent about Pierre, Lexi changed the subject.
“Anyway, are you out? I’m at his people’s restaurant, picking up Promise. You can meet me here, or I can swing past your place later.”
“I’ll meet you. I just finished an interview that almost ended with me beating a bitch’s ass.”
“Girl, what? Who and why?”
“One of the hoes who worked at the salon before it burned down. I tried to give her a chance, but she ran her mouth too damn much and then tried to buck up.”
“Oh, I know you hate that.” The sarcasm in Lexi’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, and Kennedy cackled while shifting gears to back out of her parking spot.
“Don’t be shady. It’s natural to gossip here and there, but her mouth ran like it had the fucking bubble guts. I felt like I was interviewing Promise,” she jested, making Lexi snigger. “I’m so glad, I made it a point to do the hiring process. Nubia should’ve done the same because she may not even like the people Savvy hired for her spot.”
“I don’t get why Savvy oversees it anyway. It should’ve been y’all or Relic since those are his businesses. I’m starting to believe the rumors about them ain’t just jokes.”
Kennedy scrunched her face as she scanned the flowing traffic for a break before easing out into the nearest lane. “What rumors?”
“That Relic fucked her just like he fucked Shabu’s last girlfriend.”
“Girl, stop! I highly doubt Savvy cheated on Shabu. Even if she did, it damn sure wouldn’t be with the person she thought raped her. You can’t tell me, you believe that bullshit.”
She pursed her lips, switching lanes to hook a turn at a yellow light before it changed. The hearsay that churned out of the rumor mill regarding Relic amazed her. There hadn’t been one instance where she’d heard a positive remark about him, and it made her curious to know whether his reputation proceeded him or if he was exactly who everyone purported him as.
According to her girls, Relic was a known narcissist, philanderer, and quiet as it was kept, a rapist and abuser. His fine ass was also at the top of the drug game—the same game that had taken away her brother and left her caring for Tekken when her parents couldn’t. Kennedy had sworn off and avoided that lifestyle since Koda’s death because men like her brother and Relic ended up one of two ways when they didn’t quit while they were ahead. Dead or in prison.
She’d witnessed the former with her brother, so if it wasn’t about the salon, she preferred keeping communication with Relic at a minimum. The less they interacted, the more she could ignore her physical attraction to him that she refused to mention to her friends. Kennedy could picture them grabbing their shovels to bury his name in dirt if she did.
“I mean, it’s not like Relic hasn’t done it before,” Lexi reasoned, reeling her back into the conversation. “I don’t think Savvy would, but you never know. I can’t put shit past none of them since her sister fucked my baby daddy.”
Kennedy sputtered a laugh. “Just because you let a freshman take your spot does not mean that my girl is grimy. She’d be a fool to play Shabu like that.”
“She would, but hell, anybody would be a fool to fuck with Relic. That nigga is as crazy as a bed bug.”
“Look who’s talking. Have you forgotten who your child’s father is, boo?”
“I know exactly who Pierre is, and I’m telling you that Relic puts him to shame. Hell, Los isn’t even on that level. Any man that’ll whoop is own momma’s ass ain’t got all his marbles.”
“Relic hit Ms. Judith.” She repeated it in disbelief, struggling to wrap her mind around the notion.
“Don’t tell anyone that, Kenn. Nubia told me that Los told her, Relic did it back when they were in their mid-teens. One minute they were fussing, and the next, Relic had slapped her to the ground. I’m not surprised ‘cause Pierre told me that their dad used to beat on her, and Relic worshipped that nigga. That’s why Shabu shot him.”
“Shot who?!”
“Their dad, girl. Keep up! This ain’t even the half of it, trust me. Just know, Relic is the head of the fucking snake, leading all those Blaise niggas. I can’t see how bitches stomach him. I barely speak to his ass.”
“So, if Pierre wasn’t your baby daddy, you wouldn’t fuck with Relic? Knowing he has power, money, and I’m just taking a guess,” she stated, checking for cars in her blind spot before swapping lanes. The restaurant was a couple of blocks away. “A big ass dick to fuck the shit out of you with. You’d still turn him down?”
Lexi smacking her lips reverberated around the car, but that was as much of an answer as Kennedy received. After a few seconds, she burst into laughter.
“Yea, bitch. That’s what I thought.”
“Hear me out, though, Kenn! I’d do it, but I’d be smart about that shit. Get the money and get out. Ain’t no way in hell, I’d waste my time trying to change his ass or make him fall in love. But then again, that might be too risky for me ‘cause my mouth is reckless. He’d probably do me like he did Jessica’s ass.”
“What do you mean?”
“Girl, everyone knows his baby momma getting shot wasn’t an accident. Relic set that shit up.”
That unexpected response caused Kennedy’s eyes to dart to her dashboard as if she could see Lexi’s face to gauge if the statement was bullshit. The silence was loud. When she shook off her bafflement and placed her attention back on the road, a shriek shot from her before her foot mashed the brakes a second too late. Her body lurched forward as her car bounced to a halt from crashing into the vehicle in front of her. She cursed under breath, turned on her hazard lights, and then shut her eyes to calm her racing heart that tried leaping out of her chest at the impact.
“Kennedy, are you good? Kenn!” Lexi’s concerned voice urged her eyes open.
“I’m good. I just ran into the car in front of me.”
“Damn. Are you nearby? Do you need me to pick you up?”
“I’m a block away. I doubt the damage is bad, but I know the driver is about to be on one. Let me take care of this.”
Kennedy ended the call just as a male hand stuck out of the car window she’d hit. He waved with a point, directing her to follow as he turned into the parking lot of a nearby convenient store and pushed out a heavy breath. Her eyes skimmed his bumper as she drove behind him, gauging the minor damage before parking beside his idling car just as his driver’s door popped open. She peeked through her passenger window to check him out, but clambered from her car when she couldn’t see his face hidden below the brim off a fitted hat.
“You were in a rush, weren’t you?” Those were his first words as she rounded her car to meet him where he’d strolled to assess the back of his ride. He rubbed a hand over the small dent and chipped paint before shaking his head as he removed his hat. “You fucked my shit up, mama.”
“I did not!”
Her eyes flitted to the bumper and then migrated back to a brown face housing dark, heavily lashed eyes and a smooth grin that produced a single dimple, easing the tension in her shoulders. She cracked a smile as he licked his lips.
“I am so sorry about this, for real. I got distracted for a second and before I knew it, I’d hit you. If it makes you feel any better, mine is probably worse.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better at all. Let’s see what you got going on.”
Before Kennedy could decline, he was gaiting toward the front of her car. She rushed behind him while internally giving him brownie points for not being an asshole and seeming more concerned about the damage to her modest car than his souped-up black muscle car with flames emblazoned along the side. The repairs for his custom paint job would probably send her insurance rate skyrocketing.
“Oh, this ain’t shit,” he stated as she ambled to his side. His shoulder sitting just above her head garnered her attention before she refocused, sighing at the deep indent and black paint smeared across her red coat. “It could be worse. Tell the nigga who had you distracted, he owes you some bread.”
“Huh?” She gazed up at him with a frown.
“You said, you were distracted when you hit me.”
“I didn’t say it was by a man, though. I was talking to my girlfriend.” His brow shot up, making her squeal a laugh before correcting, “A girl that’s a friend. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“My bad. You never know in this day and age. If that’s the case, though, let me get your number for the inconvenience, and we can call it even.”
“You want my number?”
Kennedy cringed, regretting those insecure words that caused lines to crease his forehead as soon as they left her mouth. If it were before the salon fire that’d altered her beauty; a fine ass man asking for her number wouldn’t come as a surprise. It’d come as more of a shock if he didn’t request it.
She played it off with a laugh. “I doubt my number is an even exchange, sir. Let me find out, you’re riding on stolen tags or don’t have insurance.”
“Shit, you hit me, mama. You’re the one that needs insurance. I’m not pressed ‘bout that lil’ shit, ‘cause I can have mine fixed up within a week. It’s nothing.”
“Oh, really? If you got it like that, then hook me up.”
“Just say the word,” he replied, digging into his pocket. Her lips tucked inward to contain her grin when he produced his phone and instructed, “Lock your number in, with yo sexy ass, and I got you. The name’s Lomar.”
“Kennedy, and you’re laying it on thick with the compliments, Mr. Lomar.”
“How? You don’t think you’re sexy?”
His dimple made an appearance again as a coy grin spread on his lips while his eyes scanned her from head to toe in unabashed approval. They lingered on her hips before drifting to her face that she kept stoic in preparation for the worst. He didn’t bat those longs lashes once while examining her injuries.
“If that’s what you’re worried about.” His head nodded toward her marred face in awareness. “A little war wound ain’t ever hurt nothing. That shit just gives you flava in my book. You want to see mine?”
She crossed her arms with a pursed mouth and called his bluff. “Yep.”
He chuckled before lifting his leather bomber jacket and shirt in broad daylight to mitigate her doubts—revealing a tattoo-littered, solid chest that’d come from lifting weights while on lockdown. Her eyes ballooned. It took her a minute to maze through the markings before spotting a single groove sitting below his right pectoral muscle and a healed gash curved along his side.
“Got shot years ago on some wrong place, wrong time type shit. Got shanked in the box.”
“You’ve been to jail?”
He pulled down his clothing and nodded. “I was in survival mode back then, but that was the old me. Now, I work in real estate appraisal, and that shit rakes in the real cash. That petty shit I used to do ain’t my wave anymore.”
Kennedy bobbed her head in approval at the one-eighty he’d done. Her tongue poked at her inner cheek in contemplation before she held out her palm, deciding that a friend to occupy her spare time wouldn’t hurt.
“Give me your phone.”
“About time, shit. You almost had me thinking, I lost it.”
Lomar’s inviting grin as he passed her the phone made her wonder what he’d done to end up behind bars. Although she could tell he was rough around the edges, he was sweeter than the men she usually dated. That realization fueled her decision not to shut down his advances since she tended to attract the worst type of niggas. Even her nephew had noticed and pointed out her bad taste that’d become alarmingly apparent after her last boyfriend left her high and dry. Her first love had done the same, but she kept that painful reminder tucked at the deepest recesses of her mind.
“Don’t just stare at the number when I call you either,” Lomar told her when she passed back his phone after locking her number in. “Pick that shit up.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she teased with her attention veering to the familiar car slowing in front of them. Kennedy peeped Lomar reaching behind his back as it lurched to a halt before the passenger window rolled down.
“So, this is why you ain’t checked back in yet, hoe? Too busy smiling in a nigga’s face.”
Kennedy pushed out an exasperated breath at Lexi’s extra ass, who leaned on the center console to peek around Toot in the passenger seat. Lexi wanted to check out the man whose face she’d caught her friend grinning in, red-handed.
“What are you doing here, Lexi? I told you, I was good, and you didn’t have to come,” Kennedy reminded her, but she waved her off.
“You did, but I wasn’t about to leave you out here alone, looking simple. Had I known it was a fine ass nigga that you hit—”
“Please, stop.”
Kennedy cut her off, scrubbing her forehead before pivoting to face Lomar who was tugging down the back of his jacket. A knowing smirk stretched across her face that made him chuckle.
“Gotta stay with the heat, mama. It’s cold out here in these streets.”
“I wasn’t gon’ speak on it. That’s your business. Thank you for understanding about the accident, though.”
“Don’t thank me, but do be more careful. Every nigga ain’t as understanding as me.”
Lomar shot her a wink and a slick smirk with the warning, backpedaling to his car before hopping inside as she watched. Lexi pulled forward so that he could back out, and once he was gone, Kennedy stormed to Lexi’s car.
“You never know how to fucking act!” she snapped, and Lexi laughed it off with a hunch of her shoulder. “Give my damn money, so I can go. Where’s Promise?”
“We left her at the restaurant. I have to drop Toot back to work, but she wanted to ride with me.”
“To talk to you,” Toot enlightened Kennedy, causing her brow to raise.
There wasn’t bad blood between her and Toot, but her nephew’s ex-girlfriend hadn’t spoken to her much since finding out that she’d paid for another girl’s abortion on Tekken’s behalf. The most she’d gotten out of Toot since then was a polite wave or halfhearted smile.
“What’s going on? Nothing happened with Tek, did it?”
“No, but did you know that he’s coming home tomorrow?”
Taken aback by the information she wasn’t aware of; Kennedy shook her head while containing the frown threatening to burst onto her face. Tekken hit her up from time to time, but their relationship was strained, which meant she didn’t sit high on the list of people privy to his whereabouts. That realization broke her heart.
“I know you two haven’t been talking much, but I think he’d be happy to see you. Me, Savvy, and Michi are going to the studio tomorrow night with the guys to surprise them. You should come,” Toot offered with a smile before it fell. “Don’t tell Tek that it was my idea if you do, though. I’m not talking to his ass.”
Kennedy laughed at the stubborn girl that her nephew had it bad for. “Thank you for letting me know, Toot. I’ll hit up Savvy about it.”
“Right, ‘cause why didn’t she invite us anyway? I damn sure knew nothing ‘bout this lil’ pop up,” Lexi bitched with a roll of her eyes that made Toot smirk.
“She didn’t tell you because my best friend will be there. She’s coming back with my brother.”
“Definitely don’t want to be there then,” she clipped, plucking the bills from her cupholder to pass Kennedy through the window. “Let me know when you get home, girl. Bye!”
Lexi chucked up the deuce before skirting off without awaiting a response, and Kennedy laughed. She proceeded to her own ride, knowing her girl was as salty as the seven seas about Treasure visiting and would probably find a reason to argue with Pierre because of it. The thought made her write a mental note to ignore Lexi’s calls for the next few days.
She had more important shit to worry about, like finalizing the stylists and staff for the salon, or how her nephew would react to seeing her after months. Kennedy huffed a breath before adding fixing her car to that list, knowing she couldn’t depend on a man she’d known for two seconds to come through for her like he’d claimed. The last thing she cared to deal with was another person’s trivial issues when she had a shitload of her own.