CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KYE
The pictures of my bruise had been sitting in a new email account for nine hours before I found the nerve to call my mother.
I had taken them that morning beneath the salon ring light, six angles of the purple spreading under my shoulder blade and the red mark where my purse strap burned my neck. I kept reopening the email like the bruises might disappear if I checked enough times.
Documenting it still made me feel dramatic.
That thought scared me because it sounded like Trell.
Saturday evening, my mother knocked twice and walked into the salon carrying two coffees and a bag from Wawa.
“You could’ve waited for me to say come in.”
“I gave birth to you. Doors are suggestions.”
She sat everything on the counter and looked around. “Where your client?”
“Canceled.”
“Then, why you call me down here talking about we need to speak?”
I pulled the hoodie back over my shoulder.
Her eyes narrowed. “What happened to your neck?”
“That’s what I called about.”
My mother sat in the client chair without taking off her coat. The joking left her face.
“Trell?”
“He got mad last night.”
“Mad and did what?”
“Took my phone. Twisted my wrist. Pushed me into the dresser.”
She looked at my wrist, then stood. “Show me.”
“Ma—”
“Kyla, show me.”
I took the hoodie off one shoulder.
My mother didn’t gasp. She didn’t cry. She stared at the bruise until her face became somebody I recognized from childhood, the woman who once chased a grown man down our block because he knocked me off my bike and kept driving.
“Where he at?”
“I don’t know.”
“Call him.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to—”
“No.” I stepped between her and my phone. “I didn’t tell you so you could go fight him.”
“Then, what you tell me for?”
Her shoulders lowered. “I mean... what you need me to do?”
I looked away. “Don’t let him in the house anymore.”
“Done.”
“Even if he says he’s bringing me something. Even if he got flowers. Even if he says I told him to come.”
“Done.”
“And don’t tell him where I am.”
“I never—”
“You told him I was at brunch yesterday.”
Her mouth closed.
“He said he wanted to surprise you.”
“He wanted to check where I was.”
She sat again, slower this time. “How long this been happening?”
“Depends what you count.”
“I count all of it.”
I leaned against the counter. “The first time he grabbed me hard was maybe six months ago. He apologized. Then, it became my wrist, my arm, standing in front of doors. Reading my phone. Showing up places.”
“And you ain’t say nothing.”
“You liked him.”
“I like him because you told me he was good to you.”
“I kept telling everybody that.”
My mother stared at the coffee lids. “I let him in your room last night.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should’ve.”
“How? He saves all the ugly for private.”
She pressed one hand to her chest and looked away. “You staying at the house tonight?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m changing the code on the front door.”
“Thank you.”
“You need the police?”
My stomach pulled tight. “I don’t know.”
“That mean no or you scared to say yes?”
“It means I don’t know. I took pictures. I saved messages. If he comes back and does anything, I’m calling.”
She looked like she wanted to argue.
“I need to do this in a way I can keep doing it,” I said. “Not because everybody mad today.”
My mother nodded once. “All right. But you don’t meet him alone.”
“I won’t.”
A knock hit the salon door.
Both of us turned.
Cam stood in the hallway.
My mother looked at me. “This the other problem?”
“One of them.”
I left the door locked and spoke through the glass, “What?”
Cam held up his phone. “Open the door.”
“Salon closed.”
“Kye.”
“Cameron,” my mother called from behind me. “She said it’s closed.”
His eyes shifted past me. He hadn’t expected company.
I opened the door two inches and kept my foot behind it.
“You got five seconds.”
Cam lowered his voice. “Sade came here?”
“Why? You tracking her too?”
“She told me she was coming. She trying to make this bigger than it is.”
“Two months, hotels, videos, and telling her you about to leave Ari sound pretty big.”
His face hardened. “You don’t know what I told her.”
“She showed me.”
“And you believe some girl who knew I had a relationship?”
“I believe screenshots.”
Cam glanced toward my mother again. “Can we talk alone?”
“No.”
“This shit has nothing to do with her.”
“Then, you should’ve texted.”
“You don’t answer.”
“Take the hint.”
He stepped closer to the glass. “You tell Ari about Sade, you tell her all of it. Don’t stand there acting like you better than me.”
Behind me, my mother’s chair creaked.
I held up my phone. The camera was recording.
Cam noticed.
“Good,” I said. “Say it clearer.”
His eyes went cold.
“You think recording me changes what you did?”
“No. It changes whether you get to lie about threatening me.”
“I didn’t threaten you.”
“You told me if I expose you, you’ll expose me. That’s a threat with business clothes on.”
My mother came to stand beside me. “Why are you threatening my daughter over Arielle?”
Cam put his charm back on so fast, I almost respected the muscle memory.
“Ms. Denise, nobody threatening anybody. Me and Kye got old history, and she’s letting Sade pull her into something that doesn’t concern her.”
“Arielle concerns her.”
“Then, she should’ve been concerned senior year.”
She looked at my face. “What happened senior year?”
Cam smiled without warmth. “Ask her.”
He walked away before I could answer.
My mother waited until the outside door shut.
“Kyla.”
I locked the salon again. “I slept with him once.”
She stared at me.
“Before him and Ari were official,” I added. “But after she told me she liked him.”
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Oh, baby.”
Not judgment.
Worse.
Disappointment.
I busied myself turning off the ring light, even though I had just turned it on.
“I was seventeen. It happened once. I never did it again.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
“Because every day after made it harder.”
“Harder for who?”
I looked at her.
She didn’t soften the question.
“Me,” I said.
My mother nodded. “Then, you know what you have to do.”
“Everybody knows what I have to do.”
“Knowing and doing don’t live in the same house.”
My phone vibrated.
Sade.
SADE: He just left my place asking what I sent you. Monday still stands.
My fingers went numb.
Cam hadn’t come to explain anything. He had come to find out how much evidence existed and remind me which secret he could use.
Every hour I waited gave him another chance to get in front of the truth.
I called Jori.
She answered on the second ring, “What?”
“I need you at Ari’s house Monday morning.”
“You decided?”
“Sade gave me until noon, and Cam came here trying to scare me quiet.”
“Why Monday? Tell her tomorrow.”
I looked at my mother. “Because I need everything together. The pictures, messages, all of it. And I need you there with what you got.”
“Kye— ”
“Please.”
Silence sat between us.
“Ten o’clock,” Jori said. “Not noon.”
“Fine.”
“And Nae should know.”
“Why? So everybody can watch me lose my best friend?”
“Because secrets are how we got here.”
I closed my eyes. “Tell her,” I said.
When the call ended, I sent Ari the first message that didn’t contain another lie.
ME: I need to talk to you Monday at 10. In person. I have to show you something about Cam and tell you something about me.
The message delivered.
No typing bubble came.
My mother put one hand between my shoulder blades, careful not to touch the bruise.
“Whatever she says, don’t make her comfort you,” she said.
One asked me to survive the consequences.
The other would’ve asked me to escape them.
I picked up my overnight bag from beneath the shampoo bowl.
On the way home, my mother changed the front-door code from Trell’s birthday to mine.
At seven that evening, his Charger rolled past the house twice.
The third time, he stopped across the street.
My mother reached for her phone.
I already had mine in my hand.