1. Kayshon
“Come on, Sassy. We’ve got two more miles to go, and your ass is dragging. I’m gonna have to lay off the milk bones if they’re causing you to be lazy.” Running backward, I look at Sassy. She slowly runs to keep up with me, and her tongue hangs out of her mouth.
Sassy is my Doberman, and adopting her from the animal shelter gave me a companion I didn’t realize I needed until after she took up residence in my empty home. For the last three weeks, I have been coming to Gripley Park for a three-mile run, but Sassy doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. My girl is anything but athletic, and her demeanor hasn’t changed despite my efforts to develop a new routine. I understand that it’s five in the morning, but my schedule can be full and hectic, so if I’m gonna keep this habit, it will have to be at this time. So Sassy better get her shit together because if I have to be at the park, her little ass has to be here.
Returning to the front, I pivot and nearly collide with a woman who shrieks before changing her direction as she continues running past me.
“Damn. How can sweat smell so heavenly?” I ask, stopping in my tracks to watch the woman’s retreating back as Sassy immediately lies on the pavement. “You are?—”
*zzip, zzip*
The vibrating in my ear stops me from teasing Sassy about not being worth a damn as I tap my earpiece and answer the incoming call. “What’s good?”
“I had to put this ho out so I could head home. I ain’t got time to be boo-loving and shit. It’s Monday, and these hos don’t have a concept of work. Where the hell did they come from, bro?” Jawaan rants as soon as the call connects, causing me to shake my head and begin a light jog, causing Sassy to huff.
“She came from her mama and whatever gutter you found her in last night.”
Jawaan’s laughter in my ear causes a smile as I pick up my speed to get my heart rate back to normal. Jawaan is the little brother my parents hadn’t given me, but life had blessed me with receiving. Meeting him when I was nine had been one of the highlights of my fucked-up existence. The first highlight had been meeting our big brother, Kyce, that same day. Jawaan and Kyce are my brothers from another and my best friends. My life is better because someone saw fit to add the two of them to it, and I’m eternally grateful.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I said after Kyce’s shooting, I would stay my ass outta Ms. Jody’s Place, but this skeezer from around the way hit me up to meet there.”
“Nigga, your young ass is foul for calling that girl a skeezer.”
“I saw an old head call a chick that in some movie I was watching the other day, and the shit stuck. Sue me.”
“I ain’t got time to play with you. I’m already out of breath and trying to get Sassy’s lazy ass to keep up so we can get done,” I say as my chest tightens and my breathing increases.
“Fuck you at, bro?” Jawaan’s tone instantly becomes hostile as warmth invades my body from his reaction.
“Jogging at Gripley Park . It’s something Letitia suggested after confirming my appointment.”
“Who the hell is Letitia? Nigga, I know you ain’t went and found someone like Kyce did. I swear I need new brothers because this shit is so crazy. These niggas are about to leave me out here alone. Boo-loving is the devil, bro. Whoever she is, jump out the pussy and stay away from the light, Kay-ann.”
I damn near trip over the crack in the pavement from laughing at Jawaan’s high-pitched fearful tone as Sassy starts barking.
*woof, woof, woof*
“That’s right, Sassy girl. Tell this nigga it ain’t a good look and that you don’t want a step mama,” Jawaan adds.
“It’s too early to be fucking around with you and Sassy. Bye, nigga,” I say.
“Please don’t go. Please don’t go,” Jawaan starts singing, causing me to tap the earpiece, disconnecting the call on his dumb, unserious ass.
“These are fire,” a young cat says, holding the latest K. Patt design while bobbing his head.
A smile graces my lips at the gleam and stars in his eyes because today is the debut of this shoe, and I’ve been nervous about how consumers will react to them. Unlike most people, I went to college so I could position myself for greatness. Being an employee never interested me, but becoming an entrepreneur made me dream big. At the age of seven, I found my love for tennis shoes, which pushed me to find my purpose in life. It took me a while to get things moving, but I’m the proud founder and owner of K. Patt Kicks . Owning and operating a tennis shoe store hasn’t been easy, but damn if it isn’t worth it every time someone buys a shoe in my store. Not only do I sell every shoe on the market, but I also have recently begun rolling out shoes designed by me.
“Thanks. What do you like about them?” I ask.
The shoes are effervescent green with a metallic lace and bottom with my name etched on the sole to give them a unique imprint. They are similar to Pumas due to their low top shaping and style, so my shoes have my imprint to distinguish their difference. Most of my designs have bright and bold colors that I know will speak to a certain age and demographic.
“The color. They won’t match anything I have in my closet, yet I can’t not cop them to stand out in every place I walk through.”
Nodding my head, I push my glasses on my face, which always causes irritation while wearing them. I should have left my contacts in after getting dressed for work, but for some reason, I think the glasses give me a more intellectual persona.
Now you know you wear them because women seem to gush more when you have them on at work.
The statement ringing in my mind has a low chuckle slipping from my lips before I cut it off and focus on the customer.
“Is this all, or do you need something else?”
“Nah, these are it. Hell, you’re about to bust my head as it is. I need to beg Moms for more money before I can come back,” he says, following me to the register where my employee, Chez, is waiting.
“He’s ready,” I say to Chez as he nods wordlessly, allowing me to return to my office where I had been before Chez called me to the front.
Chez is relatively new and gets nervous whenever a customer inquires about one of my shoes. I will have to get him up to speed because while I’m here daily, I don’t want to hold his hand whenever I’m here.
*bzz*
Entering my office, I hear my phone vibrate, alerting me of a text message. I walk to my desk and sit while picking up my phone.
Big Bro:
Why did Jawaan call me crying about you falling following Alice down the hole? What’s going on?
Shaking my head, I begin typing a response to Kyce while pondering ways to kick Jawaan’s ass when I see him.
Me:
Instead of pressing me about going to see Letitia, you should have been telling his clingy ass to go. The nigga had just climbed out of some pussy, so I’m not sure why he didn’t let whoever she was hold his needy ass.
Big Bro:
I did send him Letitia’s info. His stupid ass acted like her business card had gonorrhea. In fact, that’s what he told me while jumping back like the card had shit on it.
“This nigga,” I say, shaking my head because Jawaan acted like he didn’t know who Letitia was when I mentioned her name while proceeding to be dramatic.
Me:
Maybe he’ll go if we hold his bitch ass hand after dragging him to her couch.
Big Bro:
LOL. That might work. We can tell him we’re going on a brother’s trip to a brothel.
Me:
Now you know sis ain’t going for that, and I ain’t got time for her to put me on the prayer list at y’all church. We’re gonna have to find another lie or something for Jawaan’s ass.
Big Bro:
What you mean y’all church?
Laughing, I set my phone down and move my mouse to bring my computer to life while letting Kyce stew a little bit. His wife Masani has him attending church and bible study, but he pretends he’s not a regular church attendee. Knowing what all he’s been through since we lived in the same fucked up house, I love to see him happy and thriving. Also, seeing him as a husband and father makes me slightly envious. While unorthodox, Kyce met his wife in a way that makes fairytales come to life. Yet, I don’t see myself having the same outcome because Kyce’s background is sweet compared to mine.
*bzz*
Big Bro:
So your bitch ass ain’t gonna answer or say shit now?
Laughing, I pick up my phone and quickly type a response I know will only irritate Kyce more.
Me:
Wow. Maybe I need to call your pastor instead of Masani because you need to be dipped in his baptismal pool. *singing* take me to the water, take me to the water…or whatever the old ladies sing in the movies during baptisms.
Big Bro:
Go to hell, Kayshon
Me:
*grabbing my chest* Oh God!
Big Bro:
Fuck off my line, nigga
Me:
You hit me up, though, bro
Big Bro:
I’m kicking your ass as soon as I see you
Me:
Why? I’m just making sure you haven’t gotten too sanctified and shit. Call it my civic duty or brotherly love.
Big Bro:
…
The three dots appear before disappearing, causing my laughter to increase as I place my phone back on the desk, knowing Kyce isn’t going to respond to my foolishness. I also know to park in my garage so he doesn’t pop on me when I get home today. Although Kyce has been attending church with his family and in-laws, he hates it when Jawaan and I tease him about it. I don’t have a problem with him attending church, because I appreciate and am grateful to God for sparing his life. Hell, if I’m honest, I prayed every hour after Kyce was shot and lying in a coma. I feel like I added ten years to my thirty-two years of living during that time, so I’m only harassing Kyce because I know it gets him worked up. God is all right with me, and I don’t want any smoke with him.
“Come on in, sweetie. This is Kyce. He’s ten, so you two should get along well.” The woman, smiling broadly, greets me instantly after the front door opens.
Two weeks after Mom’s burial and before I had time to set my clothes in the closet, Grandma Patton died while sitting on the toilet. I was in my room when the mangy dog Grandma Patton owned started whining loudly. After an unknown time passed, with nothing from Grandma Patton to address the mutt, I went to investigate. Seeing Grandma Patton slumped on the toilet with her eyes closed didn’t faze me as much as what I was already dealing with. Calling nine-one-one wasn’t hard, and I did so robotically without hesitation and with a numbness in my body that has yet to dissipate. Again, Mom’s parents refused to take me in, so here I am, entering Rema and Humphrey Gardner’s foster home. Three days after Grandma Patton’s untimely death, my world has once again flipped on its axis.
“Come on. I’ll show you to your room,” Kyce says, unfeeling.
The home is unlike the two I’ve lived in before, as the smell of lemons fills the air. The foyer has high ceilings that make the entrance feel huge. The hardwood floors are spotless as I swallow the lump in my throat and follow behind Kyce. A few paces to the right is the staircase, and an unknown feeling makes my muscles twitchy as we ascend.
“Take him to the room across from yours, Kyce, honey,” Rema says to our retreating backs as Kyce nods wordlessly.
At least I’ll have my own room; hopefully, it’s better than the previous two.
Mom did her best, but money was tight, so my bedroom looked like a shoebox with zero amenities. The room at Grandma Patton’s house was actually her den, which smelled like moth balls as plastic covered the sofa.
“If you need anything at any time, I’m here. One thing I can tell you is that this house has some interesting stuff going on.” With that, Kyce pushes the door to my new room, extending his hand and inviting me into the space.
Wordlessly, I step over the threshold, and my lips upturn when I see a bed big enough to swallow my body. The gray bedding is perfect since it’s my favorite color. The wall behind the bed is also gray, and the other corresponding walls are more of a cream color. There are two dressers against one of the walls, a flat-screen TV mounted across the bed, and a walk-in closet with clothes hanging. There are two shoe racks against the closet wall with shoes lining the shelves. A spark of interest has me moving toward the shoes to inspect them for color, shape, and brand as my lips stretch wider.
“I’m going to my room, man, but don’t forget… I’m here if you need me.” Kyce’s statement causes me to jump slightly as I had forgotten his presence, and my mind registers the change in his delivery.
“Okay. Um. How old are you again?” I ask again for confirmation because Kyce is about two inches taller than me and has an older countenance, which contradicts his youth.
“Ten. You?”
“I’m nine.”
“Mm. Well, buckle up, you’re ab ? —”
“How’s it going in here? Do you like your room, Kayshon?” who I’m assuming is Humphrey asks, cutting off whatever Kyce had been about to say. Kyce backs out of the room without another word as my brows hike slightly. “So, do you like it? I’m Humphrey, by the way.”
“It’s great. Thanks,” I say, returning to Humphrey as an uneasy tinge spreads throughout my body that I cannot identify or pinpoint.
“Perfect. Well, I’ll let you get settled. We’ll have a family meeting once our last intake worker brings the last boy. Until then, get familiar with your room. If you need anything, let Kyce know, and he’ll assist you.” With that, Humphrey exits as my brows hike higher from his odd statements.
Family meeting? Let Kyce know? Where has the state of Ohio placed me?
“What I didn’t know was how many times I would ask that very question as days became years in this house. The one positive I can truly acknowledge is the brotherhood I gained from forming a bond with Kyce and Jawaan. As The World Turns , ain’t got nothing on the drama and shitshow within Rema and Humphrey Gardner’s house,” I say, recounting the first day that I arrived at the foster home I ended up growing up in.
“Okay. I think that’s all for today. How are you feeling?” Letitia asks.
“Baby, we haven’t scratched the surface, so I’m good.”
“Well, I’ll let you go for now. Set your appointment with my secretary, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Bet.”