Chapter 24
Port of Cartier
It was our last night in Port of Cartier and this damn island ain’t owe me shit, and Kay’Lo had made sure of that.
From the moment our jet touched down, he’d been in full vacation mode, makin’ up for all the stress and bullshit we left back home. The weather was perfect, the water clear enough to see straight through, and every day felt like we was livin’in some dream we ain’t have to wake up from.
We’d done everything, from jet skis, yachts and deep-sea scuba dives where we fed fish right out our hands.
One day we rode four-wheelers through the jungle trails with mud flyin’ up on our legs, laughin’ and yellin’ while Kay’Lo raced the guide like he had somethin’ to prove.
The next day we was eatin’ exotic food at a private beach dinner, with candles stuck in the sand and our names carved into a block of ice sittin’ in the middle of the table.
The chef kept bringin’ out shit I couldn’t even pronounce, and Kay’Lo had that proud smirk the whole time like he’d planned it all himself.
He’d been the perfect mix of sweet and wild.
We’d wake up late, smoke, make love, argue, then make love again like the argument ain’t even happen.
We hit lounges at night, and sometimes end up in strip clubs where Kay’Lo threw so much money that the floor looked like it snowed cash.
He’d laugh loud, order bottles for the whole section, and pull me close every time a dancer tried to flirt.
He wanted me right there with him in the middle of all that fun, not on the sidelines.
That’s what made the trip hit different.
He was chill, lovin’ and happy, like that edge he carried back home had softened in this island heat.
That night, we decided to end it big. We got dressed in our suite, music playin’ low while the ocean waves hit the balcony.
I slipped into a short leather dress that hugged me like it was made for my body.
It was classy, but short enough to make my nigga look twice.
He sat on the edge of the bed, watchin’ me put on my heels, his blunt hangin’ from his lips.
When I asked how I looked, he just said, “Like you gon’ be the reason I gotta get on a nigga’s ass tonight,” with that half-smile that always got me.
Kay’Lo threw on black leather pants that fit him just right, not tight, just fly.
He wore a short-sleeved leather button-up, open in the front, showin off that chest and them tattoos that ran down his stomach.
He added his chain, slid on his shades, and that was it. The man looked like sin on vacation.
We pulled up to the club around midnight, the one with the glowin’ blue lights and palm trees wrapped in white.
The bass hit before we even got out the car, and when we walked in, heads turned.
Kay’Lo had that presence that made people move without him sayin’ a word.
Security greeted him like they already knew who he was.
The DJ was playin’ all the right songs, the crowd was loose, and the drinks was strong.
We had our own section near the DJ booth, couches draped in black velvet, and bottles lined up on ice.
Kay’Lo sat back with his legs spread, his blunt in one hand, and I climbed right between them with my back against his chest. The lights was dim, the smoke hung low, and the vibe was pure luxury.
I started movin’ slow to the music, rollin’ my hips against him while he smoked and watched me with that cool smirk.
He was calm, quiet and just vibin’. His hand rested on my thigh while the other held the blunt.
Every now and then, he’d smack my ass or whisper somethin’ slick in my ear that made me laugh.
We wasn’t thinkin’ about nothin’ but each other.
He was cool, and I loved seein’ him like this. He was unbothered and peaceful.
Then the waitress came over.
She tapped my shoulder with a smile and held out a drink. I turned around and looked at it, confused. “What’s this?”
“Compliments of someone in the club,” she said politely.
Before I could even respond, Kay’Lo leaned up a lil’, his hand still on my leg. “Who?”
The waitress pointed toward a section across the room where a group of niggas was sittin’. One of ‘em, a tall nigga with locs and too much confidence, threw up a salute like he was proud of himself.
I froze. Kay’Lo didn’t move at first, but I knew what was brewin’ behind them damn shades. His calm wasn’t gone, but it shifted. I could feel that tension before it even showed.
“Kay’Lo, it ain’t nothin’ baby,” I said quick, my voice soft, tryna keep it light. “He probably just drunk or playin’.”
He leaned back again but the air around him changed. “Send it back,” he said simply.
I nodded, tryna play it cool, and told the waitress, “We appreciate it, but we don’t want it. You can take it back.”
She nodded and walked away, but not even two minutes later, she came back with a whole bottle.
“This was sent over instead,” she said nervously.
I looked at the bottle and then back at Kay’Lo. His jaw was tight. I ain’t even have to see his eyes to know he was done.
“Kay’Lo,” I whispered, grabbin’ his hand. “Please, baby. Don’t.”
He ain’t answer me. He just stood up slow, slid his blunt between his lips, and walked out the section like he had a mission.
“Kay’Lo,” I hissed, trailin’ right behind him.
The club had gone quiet enough for people to notice. The niggas in the other section saw him comin’. The one with the locs sat back like he wasn’t worried. Kay’Lo walked right up to him, cool but cold, his tone low and clear.
“Don’t send my wife no fuckin’ drinks,” he said, his eyes hidden behind his shades.
The nigga tried to play it off, liftin’ his hands like it wasn’t deep. “Aye bruh, I ain’t mean nothin’ by it. It was just a drink.”
Kay’Lo leaned in closer, his voice even deeper. “You think I’m one of them niggas you can play with? I don’t give a fuck what you meant. I said don’t do it.”
The tension spread like heat. The rest of the group shifted in their seats, tryna figure out if they needed to move or stay chill. Then one of them, a smaller but loud ass nigga, looked around and said, “So what we doin’, bruh? You came over here like you tryna get active.”
Kay’Lo’s head tilted a lil’. “You talkin’ too much little ass nigga,” he said, his tone calm as hell. “I just told ya boy one thing, and now you feel brave. You can TRY to get active if you want to.”
The other dude stood up, his chest puffed, but before it could go further, security rushed in. Two big guards stepped between them, tryna calm the situation.
“Let’s keep it peaceful, gentlemen,” one said, reachin’ out.
Kay’Lo didn’t swing or yell. He just stood there lookin’ at the nigga with locs like he was studyin’ him, and like he’d already decided what needed to be done. Then, without a word, he turned around, grabbed my hand, and walked out the club.
For a second, I thought that was it. My heart was racin’, but I was glad he ain’t let it go too far. We walked through the parkin’ lot, my hand still in his, and the sound of music faint behind us. When we got to the car, he opened the door for me, calm, quiet, collected.
I sat down, still catchin’ my breath, thinkin’ we was about to head home. But when he reached under his seat, my heart dropped.
“Kay’Lo,” I said softly, my hand touchin’ his arm. “Please don’t do this shit. Let it go!”
He ain’t even look at me. He just grabbed his gun, stepped out, and walked right back toward the club like he was takin’ a casual stroll.
“Kay’Lo!” I called out for him, my voice breakin’, but he didn’t turn around.
The next few seconds felt like a blur. The sound of gunfire ripped through the night, sharp and loud, mixin’ with screams and chaos. People was runnin’, duckin’, and pushin’ toward the exits. I jumped out the car, holdin my chest, tryna see him through the crowd.
When I finally saw him, he was walkin’ back out the same doors he went in, his face calm and his gun hangin’ low by his side.
He looked untouched, and unbothered, like he’d just finished a job.
I rushed toward him, grippin’ his arm tight so I wouldn’t get swallowed up in the stampede of people rushin’ out.
He opened the car door for me the same way he always did, then walked around and slid into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, his hand steady on the wheel, and drove off like it was just another night.
The lights of Port of Cartier faded behind us while the sound of sirens grew somewhere in the distance. I sat there silent, my heart still poundin’, realizin’ that no matter how calm Kay’Lo got, that edge in him never went away.
When it came to me, this nigga didn’t play.
I still couldn’t believe Kay’Lo shot that fuckin’ club up and God knows what the fuck else.
The streets was still lit, and people was still outside laughin’ and drinkin’, but inside the car it was just me and him, our thoughts ridin’ right there with us.
He ain’t say nothin’, and I knew better than to ask him anything right then.
His face was calm, like he ain’t just shook an entire club.
When we pulled up to the resort, the valet walked over, but Kay’Lo waved him off and parked the car himself.
He moved like it was just another night out, like he ain’t just turned a whole scene into chaos.
I sat there for a minute after he cut the engine, lookin’ at him, tryna read him, but I already knew it was no point. He was gone somewhere in his head.
He got out, came around, opened my door and I followed him inside. The second the door shut behind us, that island quiet hit different. You could hear the waves from the balcony and the low sound of the ceilin’ fan, and for a minute, it almost didn’t feel real.