CHAPTER TWELVE
KYE
Trell was sitting on the edge of my bed when I got home at two forty in the morning.
My mother had let him in.
Of course she had. To her, Trell was the boyfriend who carried groceries, fixed the loose cabinet hinge, and called her Ms. Denise, even though she told him a hundred times to use her first name. She didn’t see what happened after doors closed.
I had spent two years helping make sure she didn’t.
The bedroom light was off. My television threw blue light across his face.
“You had fun?” he asked.
I stopped inside the doorway. “How long you been here?”
“Long enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He held out his hand. “Phone.”
I closed the door behind me but didn’t move closer. “Go home.”
“This your new thing? Telling me what to do in front of your friends, ignoring me all night?”
“I texted you.”
“At ten thirty. It’s almost three.”
“It was Ari’s birthday.”
“I don’t care whose birthday it was.”
“That’s obvious.”
His eyes changed.
I should’ve backed down.
Knowing didn’t always mean obeying.
Sometimes, I got tired of saving myself before anything even happened.
“Move,” I said. “I’m going to sleep.”
He stood.
My room wasn’t small, but his body made it feel that way.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Who you talking to that I can’t see?”
“Nobody.”
He laughed once. “Everybody favorite word tonight.”
My stomach tightened.
He had heard me use it in the parking lot. Maybe he had been close enough to hear more than I thought.
I gripped my purse strap. “You need to get the fuck out.”
Trell reached before I could step back. His hand caught the purse. I held on.
“Let it go.”
“Get out my bag.”
“Then, unlock your phone.”
“No.”
He yanked harder.
The strap slid from my shoulder and burned across my neck. The purse hit the floor. My phone fell out and skidded beneath the dresser.
We both moved for it.
He got there first.
I had changed the passcode two weeks earlier after he went through messages with a male client asking about a retwist appointment. Trell tried the old code twice.
“What’s the password?”
“Give me my phone.”
He looked up. “What’s the password, Kyla?”
His voice was quiet.
Quiet Trell scared me more than yelling Trell.
I reached for the phone.
He caught my wrist and twisted it behind me. Pain shot from my thumb to my elbow.
“Stop.”
“Password.”
“You hurting me.”
“Then, stop fighting me.”
As if my pain had started with my refusal instead of his hand.
“Eight two one seven,” I said.
He let my wrist go.
The screen opened.
I stood there rubbing feeling back into my fingers while he read.
He found Cam’s messages first.
Don’t get guilty and start talking too much.
Including senior year.
Pick which truth you want her to hate you for.
Trell’s head lifted slowly.
“What happened senior year?”
“Nothing.”
He crossed the room in two steps and shoved the phone against my chest. “Stop saying that.”
I caught it before it fell.
“It was before me.”
“What was?”
I looked toward the door. My mother’s room was at the other end of the hall. Her television was loud. She slept with it that way.
“Kye.”
“I slept with Cam once.”
Silence.
“Your friend’s Cam?”
“Before they got together.”
“You still talk to him.”
“Because he’s with my friend.”
“He texting you about secrets at midnight.”
“Because he’s cheating on her and I found out.”
Trell’s mouth twisted. “So, you in they business because you still want him?”
“No.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“I think you looking for a reason.”
His palm hit my shoulder before I saw it coming.
Not a slap.
A hard shove.
My back struck the dresser. A perfume bottle tipped over and rolled. Pain spread beneath my shoulder blade.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Trell looked at me like he was shocked by his own hand. Then, the look hardened into blame.
“You always push shit.”
A knock hit the door.
“Kyla?” my mother called. “Everything all right?”
Trell lowered his voice, “Answer her.”
I stared at him.
“Kyla?”
“I dropped something,” I called.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, Ma.”
Her footsteps stayed outside the door for a few seconds before moving away.
Trell picked up his keys. “I shouldn’t have pushed you,” he said.
“Leave.”
“You need to stop making me feel played.”
“Get out.”
He came close enough to kiss my forehead.
I turned my face.
His mouth tightened, but he left.
The front door shut two minutes later.
I locked my bedroom door, then sat on the floor beside my bed because my knees wouldn’t hold me anymore.
I didn’t cry.
That almost scared me more.
At nine, I was at the salon wearing a loose hoodie and enough concealer to cover the mark near my neck. My back hurt every time I reached above my shoulder.
I emailed Cam and Sade’s messages and pictures to a new account Trell didn’t know about. Then, I changed my phone passcode again, turned off location sharing with him, and put a small overnight bag in the cabinet beneath my shampoo bowl.
I wasn’t ready to call it leaving.
I was ready not to get trapped without underwear and a charger.
At ten fifteen, somebody knocked on the suite door.
Sade stood in the hallway wearing leggings, a cropped sweatshirt, and no makeup. She looked younger without the silver dress. Tired too.
“You got a minute?” she asked.
“Depends.”
“I’m not here to fight you.”
“That’s good. My back already on strike.”
Her eyes moved over me. “He did that?”
I pulled the door wider. “Come in.”
Sade sat in the client chair.
I stayed standing. “What you want?”
“For Ari to know the truth.”
“Then, why don’t you tell her?”
“Because every time I tried, Cam made me feel like I was the one being messy.” She looked down at her hands. “He told me y’all knew they were basically done.”
I laughed without humor. “They had birthday dinner last night.”
“I saw.”
“He got her flowers, a van, a private room, the whole production.”
“I saw that too.”
Her mouth trembled once before she pressed it flat.
For the first time, I stopped seeing Sade as a girl trying to take something from Ari. She looked like another person Cam had handed a version of himself to.
“How long?” I asked.
“Two months.”
My stomach turned.
“He said he was trying to figure out how to end things without humiliating her because their families are close.”
“That sound like Cam.”
“He said they barely slept together anymore.”
“That also sound like Cam.”
Sade looked at me. “I’m not proud.”
“Good.”
“I’m also not carrying all of this by myself while he posts her like she’s the only one.”
“You knew he had a girlfriend.”
“I knew what he told me. Then, I started seeing what he left out.”
Neither of us had enough clean hands to point for long.
She opened her phone. “I have messages. Hotel receipts. Videos. Enough that he can’t call her crazy.”
“Send them to me.”
“I already sent you enough.”
“Send everything.”
“Why? So you can sit on it?”
The question landed.
I crossed my arms and regretted it when my shoulder pulled. “It was her birthday yesterday.”
“And Monday it won’t be.”
“You giving me a deadline?”
“I’m telling you I’m done waiting for everybody to feel comfortable.” She stood. “By Monday at noon, she hears it from you or she hears it from me.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“It became mine when he put me in it.” She walked to the door, then stopped. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“To me?”
“To her.”
After she left, Trell sent flowers to the suite.
Red roses with a card.
You know I love you. Stop making us ugly.
I read it twice. Then, I carried the flowers to the dumpster behind the building.
When I came back inside, my hands were shaking.
I opened the group chat.
Ari had posted a picture from dinner.
All four of us leaned together beneath the flower wall. Nae’s smile looked tired. Jori’s looked forced. Mine looked real enough to fool me.
Ari captioned it: Been my girls since before we knew who we were.
I stared at the picture until the words blurred.
Monday at noon.
Forty-eight hours to tell my best friend that the man she loved was cheating and the friend she trusted had helped teach him how easy it was to keep her in the dark.