CHAPTER TWO
KYE
By the time Ari got to my suite, I had already lied to her twice.
The first lie was that I barely knew Sade.
The second was that I only called because I wanted Ari outside.
Truth was, I had seen Sade leave Cam’s section at two different parties in the last month. I had also seen Cam walk her to her car after the last one. He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t grab her. He stood too close and smiled that slow smile he used when he wanted a woman to feel picked.
I knew the smile because once upon a stupid senior year, he had used it on me.
Before anybody said boyfriend or girlfriend.
Before their pictures started collecting comments about goals and forever.
Still foul.
Still something I should’ve told her.
Four years later, the truth had gotten heavier instead of older.
“You look fine,” I told Ari when she stepped into my salon suite wearing dark jeans, a fitted cream top, and a cropped jacket. Her mouth was glossy, her lashes were back on, and the little piece of lace she had been crying about was already laid down.
She looked like she had spent an hour trying to appear effortless.
“I look rushed.”
“You look like you.”
“That’s not always enough.”
She said it under her breath while turning toward the mirror and, for a second, I didn’t have a joke ready.
Then, she caught me looking and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t fucking start.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were about to tell me I’m pretty.”
“Well, damn. Sorry for almost insulting you.”
“I know I’m pretty.” She leaned closer to the mirror. “My hair just isn’t giving what it gave yesterday.”
“That’s because you slept on it.”
“What else was I supposed to do with it?”
“Put it in the refrigerator. Move.”
I spun the chair toward me and reached for the edge brush.
My suite was barely wide enough for two styling chairs, a shampoo bowl, and the ring light I had bought on payment plans, but it was mine.
The walls were blush pink. The shelves held bundles, edge control, mousse, and all the products clients swore they used at home but somehow never did.
Ari’s eyes went to my phone when it lit up beside the hot comb.
TRELL CALLING.
I flipped it facedown.
“He been calling since you got here?” she asked.
“He miss me.”
“He sees you every day.”
“And still can’t get enough. Must be nice to be loved.”
Ari gave me a look through the mirror. “You don’t have to make everything a joke.”
“And you don’t have to make everything a concern.”
Her mouth pressed flat.
I hated when she noticed things. Ari was so busy worrying about how the world saw her that people assumed she didn’t see anybody else. She did. She noticed when Nae’s voice sounded tired. When Jori stopped eating because she was stressed. When I wore long sleeves three days in a row.
She just didn’t always know what to do with what she noticed.
Neither did I.
The screen lit again.
Trell: You still at that shop?
I typed: Yes, doing Ari hair.
His reply came before I finished smoothing mousse over her temple.
Trell: Send a picture.
I locked the screen.
Ari watched me in the mirror. “He asks you to prove where you are?”
“He knows I’m a liar.”
“You not, though.”
I laughed. “Baby, you don’t know me.”
“I’ve known you since seventh grade.”
“Exactly. You know the old lies.”
She turned in the chair. “Kye.”
“Girl, face front before your edge look like a question mark.”
She held my stare another second, then faced the mirror.
I had loved Ari since she punched a girl in the cafeteria for calling me a dusty little boy in seventh grade. Ari had been crying while she swung. Tears pouring, arms everywhere, scared as hell and fighting anyway.
People remembered the fight.
I remembered the tears.
That was Ari. Soft enough to bruise, stubborn enough to stand there bleeding like nothing touched her.
I finished her hair and wrapped a thin black scarf around the front.
“Leave that on till we park.”
“I can’t walk into the place with this on.”
“Did I say walk inside? I said till we park.”
“What if Cam sees me in the car?”
“If your man stops loving you because he sees a wrap scarf, he been looking for a reason.”
Her expression changed just enough to make me regret the line.
I reached for my lip liner. “Relax. Cam has seen you sick, sleepy, drunk, crying, and once with half an eyebrow after you tried to wax yourself.”
“It grew back.”
“Eventually.”
She smiled, but it didn’t last.
“Do you think he’s cheating?” she asked.
I lined my bottom lip too slowly. “A hand on a waist ain’t proof.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because I don’t know. I think Cam likes attention. Always have.”
“So do I.”
“Yeah, but you like people looking. Cam likes people wanting.”
Ari absorbed that quietly.
My phone lit up again. This time, the name on the screen made my chest tighten.
CAM.
I snatched it before Ari could read it, but her eyes had already moved.
“Why is he texting you?”
“He probably asking if you with me.”
“Open it.”
I put one hand on my hip. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn me into one of your suspects because your man moving funny.”
Her face went still.
I could’ve opened it. I could’ve let her see the message and ended half the problem right there.
But I knew Cam.
Whatever he sent wouldn’t be clean.
“Fine,” Ari said, too calm. She pulled the scarf off before I could stop her. “Keep your secrets.”
“Ari—”
“I didn’t say you had one. I said keep it.”
That was worse.
She grabbed her purse and walked out of the suite.
I waited until the door shut behind her before opening Cam’s message.
Cam: Don’t bring her down here starting shit.
I typed back: Then stop doing shit she can start about.
His answer came fast.
Cam: Sade works with the brand. That’s it.
Me: Tell your hand that.
Three dots appeared.
Cam: And don’t get guilty and start talking too much. We all got old shit.
My fingers went cold around the phone.
The suite door swung open again, and Ari leaned inside.
“You coming or you need privacy?”
I locked my screen. “I’m coming.”
She looked at me, really looked, but whatever she saw didn’t make her ask again.
I turned off the lights and followed her into the hallway.
Trell was waiting near the building entrance, leaning against his black Charger with his arms folded.
Ari slowed beside me. “You told him we were going out?”
“I told him I was doing your hair.”
“Then, why is he here?”
Because he had my location.
Because if I didn’t answer fast enough, he came to make sure the reason was one he could see.
Because love had started feeling a lot like being watched, and I wasn’t ready to say that out loud.
“He probably wants a kiss,” I said.
Trell pushed off the car when we got close. His eyes moved over Ari, then settled on me.
“You ain’t say nothing about no party.”
“It was last minute.” I kept my voice light. “We’re going for one drink.”
“With who?”
“Ari. The person standing right here.”
His jaw shifted.
Ari stepped toward her car. “I’ll give y’all a minute.”
“No, you won’t,” I said. “We leaving.”
Trell caught my wrist before I could move past him. Not hard enough to make a scene. Hard enough to remind me he could.
His thumb pressed over the bracelet covering the faint yellow mark beneath it.
“You don’t answer your phone now?” he asked quietly.
“I was working.”
“You was done when I called the last three times.”
Ari had reached her driver’s door, but she wasn’t opening it. She was watching us in the reflection of the window.
I smiled because sometimes, a smile was the quickest way to keep everybody from doing what they really wanted to do.
“I’m about to call you from the car. Let my arm go before she come over here crying and swinging.”
Trell glanced toward Ari. His grip loosened.
I stepped away before he could change his mind.
“Be home by twelve,” he said.
I laughed too loud. “Boy, please.”
But when I got into Ari’s passenger seat, I set an alarm for 11:30.
She waited until we pulled out of the lot. Then, she asked, “What happened to your wrist?”
I looked out the window. “Burned myself with the hot comb.”
Another lie.
That made three.