Chapter 26
twenty-six
Cairo hadn’t let her out of the hold he had on her until an hour ago. Despite his stomach rumbling and her bladder being full, letting up was not on his list of plans. And the only thing on that very short list was his hands up her night shirt cupping her breasts while he snored in her ear.
When she finally managed to wiggle out of his hold, the incessant ringing of her phone wouldn’t allow her to make breakfast in peace.
Drumming her fingers against the countertop, Kamilla nipped her lip and contemplated on whether or not finally taking this call would put an end to the stalker-like calls.
Choosing not to further ignore her aunt, Kamilla drew in a deep breath. Against her better judgement, she slide the icon over and waited for Aunt J’s judgmental tone to interrupt the space of her peace.
“Oh, look who can answer the gotdamn phone,” Aunt J hissed into Kamilla’s ear.
“Hi, how are you? I’m fine,” Kamilla sassed with instant regret. “You’ve been calling, I figured, at this point, it was important.”
Aunt J dryly laughed as though Kamilla didn’t voice her concerns before she left. “Why the fuck haven’t you been home?”
“I told you how I felt about him being there when you left,” Kamilla replied.
A sigh left Aunt J’s lips. “I’m trying to make sense of this and I can’t, Kamilla. This isn’t about Martez; this has everything to do with you.”
“My comfort in a house I should be comfortable in doesn’t make sense to you?”
“I swear to God. You are determined to be just like her! You’re following right in your mother’s path and will end up just like her. Don’t you see that?”
“Ever since you brought me down here, telling me I’m going to end up like my mother has been a running theme.
You didn’t even know who she was,” Kamilla defended.
“Never once did you call her to check in. Never once did you ask ‘hey, Kamilla, how are you feeling? I know I let that leech move in and he makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. Are you safe?’ Any of that would’ve helped. ”
Aunt J dryly laughed. “Kamilla, please with that shit. You don’t even know who the nigga is!”
“But I know who Martez is. I’d rather deal with anything he isn’t. But I thought this was about me, though? So let it stay with me and you. That’s why you called? To tell me how I’m going to be like my mother or are you actually concerned about me?” Kamilla pressed.
“You want me to baby you? That’s the fuckin’ problem, my sister cradled you like you were a gift to the world. I’m not that, Kamilla. I’m a real bitch from Mecca. A place your mother clearly forgot. A place you’re acting like you’re too good for. What the fuck happened to the job I got you?”
“Uh, the manager literally tried to burn my face on a hot ass grill,” Kamilla informed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Aunt J asked.
“Because Cairo handled it. Because you were gone. Because anyone else I had who would actually stand in the gap for me is gone. Sorry if that makes me soft.”
“Cairo,” she scoffed. “Tell me you’re not fucking him.
Kamilla, you have no idea what you’re doing.
What I told you? Not to be fuckin’ with no nigga who can’t take care of you and what did you do?
Huh? Run to the first Azul who looked at your timid ass.
I don’t even know why I fuckin’ care. You want to be grown, you want to be like your momma, fine! Don’t call me when he fucks you over.”
There was a very evident amount of contrition in Aunt J’s tone.
Jealousy laced with the undertones of needing to right wrongs.
Kamilla knew that coming to rescue her from Greenwood was only because she left her sister to wither away in darkness.
When it came to the dynamic between sisters, Kamilla never knew what caused the rift.
And at this point, she didn’t want to know.
It was clear that whatever Aunt J held against her deceased mother was now being placed on her.
“Wow,” Kamilla scoffed, too irritated to be saddened by the realization. She wouldn’t let this drag her back into the darkness of grief and loneliness. Especially not on a day like today.
“Don’t even. I saw Martez and I heard how you let those niggas jump him. Can’t even make sure your cousin gets a fair fight? You know Martez would have beat that nigga’s ass,” Aunt J huffed and Kamilla was honestly disgusted.
“Are you drunk?” she quizzed. “Martez is a liar and-”
“He’s family and unlike you and your mother, family is supposed to look out for one another,” she snapped back.
“I’m not going back and forth with you; come get your shit.
You choose your side, stay there. When that nigga drops your ass for music don’t call me, I mean that.
Matter of fact, I know how to make you fuckin’ see it. ”
The call ended and Kamilla moved from the pancake mix she hadn’t even started mixing to the couch.
None of this had been her plan, but here she was.
The family she came from was essentially gone.
If things went left with Cairo, she’d be alone in the vastness of a world that would eat her alive if she let it.
The sobering reality of that provoked the tears she was trying to keep at bay.
Her bonnet-covered curls that were free, thanks to Cairo’s hands in them while he slept, fell over her face.
Sitting back on the couch, she drew her legs in, closed her eyes and pushed out a deep exhale.
Each exhale produced tears. Mourning never stopped.
It seemed like one moment a scent could make her mourn her mother, a sound – her father, the lack of a unit – all the things she’d always wanted.
Staying in this place was out of the question, this was the place that consumed her mother.
“Who did it?” Cairo’s tired raspy chords flooded her ears. The protectiveness in his cadence alerted her spirit. “I ain’t burnt shit down in a couple weeks.”
Kamilla chuckled and wiped her face. “It’s a purge. I’m okay. Did I wake you up?”
“You not wedged under me woke up me,” he said, taking the empty spot by her on the couch and pulled her into his arms. “You sure you good?”
Kamilla settled in his warmth. “Yeah. I’m going to make pancakes because your stomach was growling louder than you were snoring.”
“It wasn’t that loud,” Cairo stated, with a kiss to the top of her head. “Talk to me, how you feeling? I heard that bullshit.”
Kamilla blew out a deep breath. “The whole thing or a part?”
“Part enough to fight the urge to hang up. But I know family shit can get tricky. You know I got you right?”
“I do know. It’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach that confirms and erases any doubt. And I guess everyone else won’t understand that,” Kamilla spoke, sitting up to kiss his face. In true Cairo-fashion, he held her there, slowly and sensually devouring her lips. “Pancakes.”
“Tell you what,” he muttered between kisses. “For the sake of saving us some time. I’ll make the pancakes, you start folding the clothes you swear need to get done, I’ll help and then we’re taking y’all out.”
Kamilla frowned. “I know it’s KP day, but I really don’t want to be in the mix.”
“I know that. And you know I don’t like sharing you. I want the attention to myself. So we’re taking y’all to the pier today. Winning giant ass teddy bears and loading you up with cotton candy and shit. Kissing and rubbing on you in the back seat.”
“Wait…a date?” Kamilla cooed playfully, as she stood up.
“Yeah, something outside of our norm. Wait ‘til your nigga takes you to spot with white table cloths and shit,” he teased, standing up behind her and gently palming her ass. “Ah shit, it’s getting some weight on it.”
“Cut it outttt. You won’t stop feeding me,” Kamilla giggled, walking down the short hall to grab a basket of clothes she washed while he was locked in the studio.
Every day she showed up with food, a kiss, and a fresh set of clothes.
“I don’t know, I think I’ll always opt for the tacos in the car, Chinese food in the laundromat, pizza while you fuck people up. ”
“Better act like you know. Anyone against you is against us. You know I’ll snatch everybody out your way, on Azul.”
Kamilla bit a grin. “I got you too. Now stop looking at me like you want to eat me up and make my pancakes. I’m hungry and I haven’t been to the pier in a long time. I’m overdue for an oversized bear.”
“What you do in Greenwood for fun?”
“When dad came up, we went to the race tracks. For my sixteenth birthday, he convinced an amateur racer and his crew to open up the track so I could ride in a race car,” Kamilla answered with a smile. “Even though I’m pretty sure the guy was an Azul.”
“What’s his name? The crew manager?” Cairo quizzed from the kitchen as Kamilla plopped back down with the basket of clothes.
For a moment she watched him, shirtless, muscles flexing as he whipped the batter.
He was focused on his task of communicating and caring for her.
That had been the thing she loved the most.
“Uh, dad called him Blu Eye. You know him?”
Cairo slowly nodded his head. “Nigga is a legend. He used to chop cars with Jackal. Nigga took the wrong car of the right man; before he knew it, he was moving his family up to Greenwood to be a pit crew manager. I think he’s moved up now.”
Kamilla added, “Yeah when we went, he was the crew chief. Talk about timing.”
“I’m learning everything that’s for you won’t miss you,” Cairo stated. “I didn’t believe for a long time. Just like I thought the prayers my grandma whispered when I kept her up all night weren’t enough to keep me. God got a funny way of showing you He’s always around.”
“When’d you start noticing?” Kamilla asked, folding away.
Cairo smirked offering her a loaded look. “I’ll tell you later. Promise.”
True to his word, he fed her, assisted her in folding their clothes, and to seal their mid-morning, he pinned her to the bed and devoured every inch of her. Now, they were side by side trailing behind Nate and Dania.