Chapter 27
The next day, Tasha finally gave in and accepted Kenji's offer. They were at one of Detroit's finest brunch spots, the kind with floor-to-ceiling windows, and with that soft R she tried hard to swallow. “You so stupid.”
“I’m serious,” he said, leaning back in his seat, eyes dragging over her, slow but respectful. “A woman I actually like?! She gets fine dining. She gets places with linen napkins. She gets a… better me. Feel me?”
Tasha’s smile softened against her will. Across the restaurant, Mar walked in with his wife, Meeka, by his side, with one hand resting on the small of her back, leading her to a nearby booth.
“Mar, bae, this spot nice,” Meeka said, looking around as the hostess placed their menus down on the table. Mar wasn’t listening; his eyes were locked straight across the room. As if he spotted a ghost.
“Oh fuck… nall,” he whispered under his breath. Meeka's eyes followed his line of sight. “Oh shit,” she said, rubbing her eyebrow.
“Exactly,” Mar said, already pulling his phone out. “She got my nigga fucked up, Meek.”
Meeka shook her head, reaching for his phone. “Stay outta them people business, Mario. Let’s just enjoy our—”
He swatted her arm out of his way, watching Kenji as he leaned back in his chair, smiling at Tasha. “Nah…” He frowned. “This ain’t finna go how that nigga think.” He hit the number on his cell. It rang twice.
“Jue… you might wanna wake up for this one, nigga.”
“…Whatcha want? Damn,” Juelz asked with sleep still in his voice.
Mar glanced over at Tasha and Kenji's table once more. “Yo girl out here on a date, nigga.”
Silence. Then—
“Where the fuck y’all at?”
Mar smirked. “Droppin’ the pin now, nigga.”
The call ended.
Back at the table, Tasha and Kenji were locked into easy conversation, the kind that came naturally and not forced.
The waitress walked by with mimosas, and she snagged one off the tray. “So, what you tryna say, Kenji?” she asked, swirling the drink around in a circle like she wasn’t already blushing.
“I’m saying…” he tapped the table. “If you in this seat right now, then you not just anybody.”
Tasha looked away, fighting a grin. “Whatever.”
The waitress came over, took their orders, and slid off again. The moment she left, the energy between Tasha and Kenji settled into something easy, something warm.
Kenji leaned back, one arm draped over the back of his chair, his eyes fixed on hers. “So, tell me something about you. What does Tasha do when she’s not saving lives?”
Tasha scoffed. “I like to do a lot of things.”
“Alright. So…name one.”
She twirled her straw, thinking. “I like to read. I like helpin’ and carin’ for people, that’s why I became a nurse. I… like simple things.”
Kenji nodded, his gaze steady. “I can respect that. Simple is underrated. People think because I’m in the league, I need the noise. But I’d rather be chilling on the porch than in the spotlight any day.”
Tasha studied him for a moment, admiring his honesty.
Ever since she separated from Juelz, she’d sworn off dating.
She decided she was done with feeling like she was pouring more into others than herself.
But there was something different about Kenji.
Something she couldn’t quite name yet, but it sat in the center of her chest every time he looked at her like she was a person, not a burden.
An hour passed, and they were still talking, easy stuff, everyday stuff, the type of conversation that makes time move faster without either person noticing.
She was in the middle of laughing at a story about his rookie year when they were interrupted.
“Excuse me… I’m sorry to interrupt…”
Both of them looked up to see a young kid, maybe like ten or eleven, holding a phone in one hand and a napkin in the other, nervous as hell but trying to play it cool.
“Could you sign this napkin for me, please?”
Kenji smiled. “Sure, little man.”
“Thank you so much! I’m a big fan. I watch you on TV with my dad all the time.”
Tasha’s heart smiled as she rested her head on her interlocked fingers, watching the interaction. This was a different side of him she was seeing.
Kenji took the pen from the young kid, smiling. “I got you.” He placed the napkin on the table and signed it in one quick motion, then stood up. “Come on, let’s take this picture.”
The kid was all smiles as he scrolled to the phone camera. “Bet!”
They snapped a quick picture, the kid thanking him like three times before finally walking back to his parents. Kenji sat back down like it was nothing.
“Sitting on the porch, huh?” Tasha asked, throwing his words back at him. “It seems to me that you do enjoy this life.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to let little man down.”
Tasha smiled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah… yeah, sure.”
She took a bite of her food, and then all of a sudden she felt a shadow standing over the table, the familiar scent hitting her nose before she even saw the face.
“Say, man, what the fuck you got goin’ on, Tasha?”
Her whole body froze. The fork slipped out of her hand and clinked against the plate.
Kenji stood up fast, throwing his napkin back on the table. “Tasha? Do you know him?”
Juelz didn’t give him the floor. “Aye, want you mind yo muthafuckin’ business and get the fuck on.”
Tasha’s breath hitched. The whole restaurant went silent. Kenji’s jaw flexed, hands balled at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at Juelz with this cold, steady look like he was deciding if this was worth catching a case over or featuring in the headlines.
Tasha's blood boiled. “Juelz, what the hell are you doin’ here—”
“Fuck that! Why you out with this clown is the betta question?” He tucked his hands under his arm pits. “This what the fuck we doin’? Huh, Tasha? This what we on?”
Tasha stood up, her chair screeching against the floor. She stepped into his space, with her arms folded. “I thought I left you with Shyann’s triflin’ ass.” She rolled her neck. “So how come you ain’t with her?”
Juelz frowned, clapping his hands. “Tasha! Ion fuck with that bitch. I been tryna tell you that from the jump, but you not listenin’.” He grabbed at her earlobe. “I did all that for you. To protect yo ass and them muthafuckin’ license.”
Tasha swatted at his hand, removing it from her ear. Kenji stood slowly this time, palms flat against the table, steady but ready. “Yo, my man…you need to chill talking to her like that.”
Juelz reached for Kenji so fast, jacking him up by his shirt. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. This ain’t got shit to do witchu.” He released Kenji’s shirt, pushing Kenji back a little, causing him to stumble. “Mind your muthafuckin’ business before I punch you in yo shit.”
Kenji didn’t blink. “Talk to her right,” he said calmly with his hands in the air. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Talk to her right, that’s all I’m sayin’,” Juelz mimicked, his voice dropping low. “Sit yo corny ass down with that bullshit.” Juelz's head snapped back, looking at Tasha, with a twisted face. “Tasha? Really, this reject Jackie Robinson ass nigga, ‘posed to be my replacement?”
Tasha put a hand between them, pushing Juelz back.
“Look! You had your chance with me. You fucked that up.” She poked him in his forehead hard. “You did! So why are you here, in my face now? We done. Just let me be.”
“A’ight... so it’s like that? That’s how you feel?”
Tasha nodded as she backed up. “Yeah, it’s like that, Jue. That’s how the fuck I feel.”
“Well, fuck you then, Tasha, witcha big ass nose.” Juelz spat. He looked Kenji up and down with pure vitriol. “Fuck you too. Clown ass nigga. I hate y’all fuckin’ team anyway.”
People were staring. Phones were out. The restaurant went quiet, now. Kenji threw some bills on the table and stood up. “Tasha…come on, let us just go—”
Crack.
The sound of Juelz’s fist connecting with Kenji’s jaw echoed off the high ceilings. Kenji’s head snapped back, his body hitting the chair so hard it skidded three feet. Women screamed. Glasses shattered. Cellphones flashed.
Somebody yelled, “Aye, call the police!”
“Juelz! Stop!” Tasha lunged forward, but Juelz was a blur of motion, swinging again. He was rocking Kenji shit. Stomping him out as if he had dirt on his shoes.
Mar made his way through the crowd with Meeka following right behind him as the commotion got louder.
He knew already that Juelz was the cause.
He grabbed Juelz’s shoulders, pinning his arms back.
“Nigga, chill! You trippin’!” Mar looked around and finally realized that calling him there might not have been a good idea.
“You see all these cameras, nigga. And Tasha? You know you foul.”
“Get off me, nigga!” Juelz barked, trying to shake him. “Give a fuck ‘bout these cameras.”
Kenji gathered himself, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. He didn't rush him; he squared up like a man who was trying to fight for love. “C’mon. Try that shit again.”
Tasha jumped between them, palms out, screaming, “STOP! Both of y’all. Stop!”
But Juelz was gone, eyes bloodshot, chest heaving, jealousy ripping through him like a fucking wildfire.
“She mine, nigga,” he growled, pointing past her shoulder. “You hear me? MINE!”
“I am NOT yours!” Tasha screamed.
Kenji’s jaw twitched. “Ha! Nigga. Now get over it.”
Tasha's eyes stared at Kenji’s. “I’m not yours, either! I’m single. I belong to my muthafuckin’ self!”
The room went dead silent. Juelz stopped struggling against Mar. His face twisted, the ego falling away, leaving only a raw, ugly hurt.
He lunged again, but Mar yanked him backward so hard that it left scuff marks on his shoes.
“Let me GO!” Juelz roared, spit flying. She out here fuckin’ on this nigga and being a li’l hoe. The shit I did? I did for her. But nawl, sheon wanna hear that. She just ready to jump on the next nigga dick and say fuck me.”
Tasha’s voice cracked through the chaos.
“Because it is fuck you, Jue.” She rolled her neck, bucking her eyes.
“Furthermore, I ain’t jumped on his dick yet, but you can betcha life I am,” she started moving her hips in a circle, patting her center, taunting him.
“I’ma slide this fat wet muthafucka up and down that rich ballplayer dick, while he makin’ me cream all on that shit. ”
That hit him like a physical blow. Everything froze. His chest rose once. Twice…
Meeka gasped, clutching her invisible pearls. “I know that’s right, girl. Ion blame—”
“Aye, you can pipe that shit down, Meek. For real,” Mar said, stopping her from finishing her sentence.
The heat had left Juelz’s eyes. Something in the structure of his face seemed to fracture, the hurt turning into a cold, focused cruelty. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper that carried further than any screams.
“A’ight. Go head. Do all that shit.” He looked her up and down, disgusted by the words she let spill off her tongue. “I bet that fucked up uterus still won’t getcha a baby,” he shot back, turning to leave.
She gasped loudly. She couldn’t believe he went below the belt like that.
Literally. Out of all the shit Juelz could’ve said, this nigga chose those words.
Fucked up. Uterus. Baby. All in one sentence.
His words stabbed her deeper than the knife Shyann had in her back.
They found a deep place within her that was already bruised by doctor’s offices, the whispered damn maybes, and quiet prayers she never said out loud.
That wasn’t just anger he used. That was knowledge. That was facts turned into a weapon. For a split second, the room disappeared, leaving just Tasha and the truth he’d thrown at her like it was nothing more than a bad habit he was tired of holding in.
Her chest tightened. Her vision blurred. Tears spilled before she could stop them, hot and humiliating. Of all the places he could’ve cut her, he chose the one she protected the most. The one she pretended didn’t ache. The one she carried alone. Juelz didn’t take it back. That hurt her worse.
Her hand went for the first thing she could reach. The biscuit was still warm when she threw it, all her rage and heartbreak. She couldn’t put into words what was packed inside that single motion. It hit him square in the back of the head, soft, but it said everything that she couldn’t.
He turned back one last time, brushing the biscuit crumbs off his dreads.
He stared at her for a beat. His eyes searched hers.
He knew what he said was hurtful, but her letting another man be with her intimately hurt worse.
The thought alone tore him up inside. Breaking their stare, Mar pulled Juelz toward the door, and the restaurant guests parted like the Red Sea around them as Meeka followed them out.
The heavy oak door swung shut, leaving Tasha standing in the center of the wreckage.
Silence swallowed the room.
Kenji steadied himself, hand interlocked behind his head. “Tasha,” he said, quietly, “You good?”
Tasha wasn’t breathing. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Juelz had exposed her. The whole restaurant now knew about her failing body.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. She stood frozen, as if she were naked in a room full of people.
Kenji stepped close, not touching her, just standing in front of her like a shield.
“Come on,” he said softly, his hand hovering at the small of her back. “We gotta get you outta here.”
And for once?
Tasha didn’t argue. She let him lead her out past the phones, the whispers, and the stares, leaving her old life bleeding on the restaurant floor.