Zara
I should’ve declined Kenyon’s offer, but I didn’t want to stroke egos tonight. I wondered if I’d ever get to celebrate another birthday with my Mom, which made me sad and angry, so I accepted Kenyon’s offer to escape.
I didn’t know part of his escape plan would lead me back to his home. I entered Kenyon’s world hungry for details that whispered secrets about the man who was an enigma to most.
“Do you want anything?” he asked, shutting the double doors because Kenyon Keyes couldn’t have just one.
I was too busy studying the living room to reply. A plush, charcoal gray sofa sat against one wall, bordered by bookshelves that boasted a mix of literature and an impressive collection of classic vinyl records. The books caught me by surprise. He didn’t look like the reading type, but I was already learning so much.
“Aye, keep them hands where I can see ‘em. You look like you’re up to no good taking inventory of shit to steal.”
I turned to him with a smirk. “Please, if I were planning to steal anything, you wouldn’t know until it was gone.”
He chuckled, arms crossed in a way that matched my stance. “Since you’re not clocking shit to steal. What are you doing?”
“Observing.”
He pushed off the doorway. “Being nosey and up to no good, like I said.” While I tried to keep my smile at bay. It was hard to do whenever I got around Kenyon. It was like I was no longer in control of my own damn face.
“I think you’re the one up to no good. I heard Kross. You paid him to let me off today. Nothing is free, so what’s in it for you?” I challenged.
“Being judged by a Smurf .” His hand lightly tugged at the blue wig I planned on wearing tonight.
Shaking off his sarcastic rebuttal, I trailed my fingers along the dark wood. I just knew I’d understand him better and what he was hoping to gain from saving me from a bad day. Unfortunately, I was even more clueless.
“I need to take this. It’s a spare room down the hallway, the first door on the left. Are you good?” I nodded, and he slid his phone from his pocket. “Cool. Start thinking about what you want to do, and don’t get sticky fingers while I’m gone.”
“Stealing is the least of your worries. Keep talking, and I’ll tear your shit up.” I threatened, but Kenyon didn’t waver. He just delivered his notorious grin laced with mischief.
“Be ready when I’m done.”
Now that I was in Kenyon Keyes's world, I wanted to tour every inch, hoping there were breadcrumbs to figure him out somewhere in the open floor plan. My curiosity guided me upstairs to the master suite. Much like the first level, there wasn't an ounce of a woman's touch. The absence of clichéd feminine artifacts scattered about was very telling.
The partially ajar closet revealed an orderly row of clothes. The drawers were meticulously organized, everything in its place, and nothing that suggested a shared life or even shared moments. Cologne bottles lined the island, along with jewelry. Very expensive jewelry and one lone hoodie thrown across it that looked like he left it there in a rush. Bringing the sleeve to my nose, it smelled just like him.
“Man, tell them nigga’s this isn’t a fuckin’ democracy. Do what the fuck I said.” Kenyon’s voice neared with a harshness that made me panic. His conversation halted while I was standing in the entryway of the closet.
“Handle it because they don’t want me to.” He growled, hanging up. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding, like a sudden roll of thunder.
I froze, my heart jumping into my throat. For a second, I couldn’t find my voice, my mind scrambling for an excuse, a reason, or anything that would make sense. “I-I was just?—”
His serious expression cracked into a slow, teasing smile. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.”
The relief hit me like a wave, quickly replaced by a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. My cheeks flushed as I realized he enjoyed watching me panic. Without thinking, I reached out and smacked him. “You’re such an asshole!”
He laughed, catching my wrist before I could hit him again. “And you’re not a thief, just nosey as fuck.”
“I was looking for you.”
“Nosey and a bad liar.” He let go of my wrist, still grinning as he wedged past me, stepping out of the jeans he had on and tossing them in the basket.
“Says the man who barricaded me in an office until he got his way,” I countered.
“What do you need?”
“What?”
“You said you were looking for me. What do you need?” he reiterated.
“Oh. Um, a towel and washcloth so I can shower.”
“You know how many closets your nosey ass passed on the way to mine?”
“It would’ve been rude to go through your stuff.” My sassy response made Kenyon toss a smirk over his shoulder as he appraised the clothes rack.
“Yet here you are in my closet. Did you find what you were looking for?”
Kenyon was forced to turn around because my brain couldn’t compute a response when I didn’t even hear the question. I was lost in the visual of Kenyon Keyes standing there devilishly handsome, his broad shoulders carrying the width of his frame. The veins decorating his skin were extra. Then I started thinking about veins in other places. Was the head thick and meaty? Was it long and thin or short and fat? Did it curve? I prayed he was circumcised. Now, my mouth was open as if waiting to taste him.
“Focus, Nicole,” he instructed, with a touch of humor around his mouth.
“J-Just tell me where I can find a towel and washcloth, Kenyon Keyes.”
“Second door on the left.”
I padded down the stairs, my bare feet brushing against the wood as I went to the bathroom. Kenyon's house was quiet, almost too quiet, but I needed the solitude for a moment. My thoughts had been racing, replaying the worst argument my parents had ever had.
It was the day before everything changed. I was young, so it didn’t make sense then, but they argued about him . I still wasn’t sure who he was in the story, but Dad fussed about how dangerous he was. Mom knew but was torn for whatever reason. That day had become a core memory, so when I got old enough, I asked her if they were arguing about my biological father, but she never gave me a straight answer.
The cool water washed over my skin, grounding me. I dried off and unraveled my braids, giving myself a side part. Slipping my smaller hoops in my ears, I headed downstairs.
Kenyon was sitting on the couch, his back against the cushions, arms stretched along the top like he was waiting for me.
“It's about time. Do you have your ID?”
“Yes, why?”
“You look twelve when you take all that shit off. I don’t need people thinking I kidnapped you.”
Relief deflated my chest as I inched closer. “Why are you so annoying?”
He patted the couch, and I was so sucked into Kenyon’s world that I complied without hesitation.
“What’s your mom’s name?” His fingers curled and fumbled against the small of my back, pulling me from the downward spiral. “ Nicole.”
Instinctively, my neck turned to Kenyon. “Hmm.”
“What’s mom’s name?”
“S-Shana.”
Kenyon gripped my chin, turning me to face him. “You look like you’d have a Shana.”
It was the first time I’d really seen him smile. It was different, away from all the chaos. It curved up slowly, as if he didn’t smile like this often, but when he did, it was real.
“What does having a Shana look like?” I asked, pulling myself from his trance.
He cocked his head, appraising me while my body ached, craving his fingertips again.
“Average height and slim with slanted eyes. Wide nose and lips that make perfection look so fuckin’ pretty when you smile. But that forehead.”
Kenyon’s assessment warmed me from the inside out, so I did the only thing I could, “I’d rather have a big forehead than a flat one any day.”
“Better to have a flat forehead than a flat chest.” Kenyon’s index finger swiped at my breast. Clenching my fist, I struck him, but he laughed it off, “Aye, don’t be ashamed. Lil’ boobies taste just as good.” He informed me, trying to shield himself from my fist. “Chill and tell me what Mom wants to do today?”
I should’ve known the answer, but I didn’t. I hadn’t known Shana in a long time. The person she became after witness protection wasn’t the mom who used to take me to the boardwalk, who laughed easily and lived freely. That Shana was buried somewhere under layers of new identities.
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice smaller than I meant.
I could feel him waiting, hoping I’d keep talking, but how could I explain something I barely understood. The memories of who she used to be were so tangled up with the person she became even I struggled to separate them.
“When I was little, we used to go to the Boardwalk,” I added, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “She used to take me there all the time. It was our place before everything changed.” My voice cracked slightly.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, as he stood up and offered me a hand.
“Then we’re going to the Boardwalk.”
His use of we made me pause for a moment. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a warm hand against my back, reassuring in a way I wasn’t quite ready to admit. Despite the tangled mess of emotions, I smiled just a little.
The drive to the boardwalk was quiet. As we got closer, the carousel revealed itself. All my childhood memories of begging Shana to ride back-to-back came flooding back. Kenyon parked near the entrance, the scent of saltwater and fried food already filling the air. The boardwalk stretched out before us, and I found myself glancing at Kenyon, trying to gauge his mood before we walked into whatever the evening held.
“Do you come down here often?” I asked.
Kenyon scoffed, then broke into a sexy grin. “Fuck no.”
“Why’d you say it like that?”
“The Boardwalk isn’t my thing unless I grab something to eat.”
“What is your thing ? Other than threesomes.”
Kenyon’s chin dropped before leaning his body into mine, causing me to stumble.
“Keep talking, and I’ll leave your ass down here.”
My eyes widened reading the sign that brought back so many memories. I latched on to Kenyon’s arm like I used to with Mom.
“We have to go to Luna’s Sweet Treats! I haven’t been in forever!”
“You’re not going today either because it’s not about you,” he smirked, leaning against the old wooden railing and chewing on the same piece of gum.
“I’m the center of her universe. She would want me to be happy,” I argued, throwing my hands on my hips. Then, suddenly, I was hit with a layer of sadness I wasn’t expecting.
Sasha and I were her world, and now a piece of it was missing. I felt incredibly guilty imagining her lying in bed, hiding under the covers so nobody could see her crying.
Kenyon pulled me closer to him to avoid being run over by patrons, bringing me back to reality.
“Everything alright in there?”
“No, but a caramel apple will make me feel better.”
Kenyon cracked his knuckles, staring at the ocean before replying, “Can’t disappoint your Mom on her birthday now, can we?”
“Nope.” Grabbing his hand, I pulled him toward the pink and blue shop, eager to get my hands on one of their famous candy apples.
As we approached the entrance, I noticed a little girl tugging on her mother’s hand, her eyes wide with longing as she stared at the colorful treats inside.
“Mommy, please! Just one,” she begged, her voice tiny and hopeful.
The mom sighed, clearly worn out. “Not today.”
“But why?”
“Because I,” she stopped abruptly, sighing, “Because I said no. Maybe another day.”
I glanced at Kenyon, wondering if he noticed, but he seemed focused on holding the door open as I stepped inside. Staring up at the menu, I didn’t know where to start. All the flavors looked so good.
“Should I get the Cinnamon Spice Dream or the Cookies and Cream Xplosion?” I asked, peering back at him.
His shoulders hunched. “They both sound nasty as fuck.”
I sucked my teeth, studying the menu one last time before we got to the register. After placing our order, his phone rang, but he didn’t answer. I was caught up in childhood memories when the worker slid our order across the counter.
“For somebody who didn’t want to come to Luna’s, you sure are greedy,” I said, nodding at the two candy apples in his hand.
Kenyon just pushed the door open with his elbow. On our way out, the little girl was still standing there, her shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Without a word, Kenyon stopped and asked, “May I?” while the little girl looked at her mom for approval.
“Thank you,” the woman said, her voice soft with surprise and gratitude.
“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for kids,” I teased, biting into my apple.
He waited until I was perched on the ledge of the pier, my legs dangling, enjoying my sweet treat before asking, “Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” I joked.
“Why aren’t we spending the day with Mom?” He asked, giving me his undivided attention, and I wished he hadn’t. His dark eyes blazing into mine made me extremely nervous, toggling between the truth and a story to sell.
“Now, who’s nosey?”
He stood next to me, using the ledge as a makeshift table.
“I’m just curious.”
“We had a difference in opinion, so I left and moved back here to pursue dance,” I replied vaguely.
His free hand palmed my shoulder to soothe the sadness on my face.
“You can borrow mine.” He talked about my wide smile, but the one he flashed just now could give mine some competition. “She doesn’t have any girls, so she’d be happy to do all that girly shit mothers and daughters do.”
“She has Sydney.”
I took the opportunity because I couldn’t quite figure out their arrangement. They seemed like they were together in a no-strings-attached kind of way, but she had to mean something to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be staring at the ocean.
“Not only are you nosey but petty too. I’m learning a lot, Nicole.”
“Must be nice.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Your mom and Sydney aren’t close?”
“They’re cool.” It wasn’t his two-word reply but the cold, dismissive tone he used that told me Kenyon didn’t want to discuss Sydney.
“I’ll make a mental note that your girlfriend is off limits.”
“Jealous?”
“Of what?” I scoffed at him, calling me out.
“You tell me. You’re the one with all that bass in your voice talking about my girlfriend .”
“Jealous is what you were at the race. You were staring so hard I almost asked if you wanted to join the conversation.”
“How you let that nigga get your number before me?” The wrinkles on his forehead made me laugh. Kenyon was used to being the apple of everyone’s eyes, so he couldn’t fathom any man beating him at anything.
“He asked for it,” I pointed out because something so simple hadn’t crossed Kenyon’s mind.
“Is Romello your man now?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just keeping tabs on nigga’s I have to beat up.”
“You have some nerve.”
“ Because I have a girlfriend ?” he mocked, poorly impersonating my voice. “Now, who’s jealous?”
“I’m not jealous, Kenyon. Whatever y’all have going on is your business.”
And then, a pause stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. I had no choice because telling a man I barely knew I was jealous felt insane. Kenyon’s eyes narrowed a little like he could read me. Maybe the blank stare on my face made him feel inclined to say something.
“Sydney might be more your lady than mine, by the way.”
“Absolutely not. She just doesn’t take no for an answer. Something you both have in common.”
“You'd be miserable at work if I took no for an answer. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Thank you, Fairy Godfather. What’s her deal anyway?”
“Syd likes beautiful women.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to be flattered?”
He picked up on my sarcasm and massaged the nape of my neck, his thumb brushing against my birthmark.
“I’ll tell her to ease up.”
“Wow, you’re actually being.” It was so odd I didn’t even have a word ready to finish my sentence. “Nice.” Kenyon didn’t fire back. It was unusual for him, especially when I made a sarcastic jab. “Don’t tell me I hurt your feelings?”
His head turned, and he chuckled.
“What?”
Kenyon was much braver than me, so he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. Before I could even process what was happening, his tongue grazed my cheek, sweeping away the smear of ice cream.
“Did you just lick me?”
“Not where I wanted to, but it’s a start. You had a little something,” he said, his voice low and slightly amused.
“You could’ve just told me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
I laughed nervously because he always seemed to find a way to catch me off guard, and this time was no different. After finishing our treats, we moseyed around the boardwalk, making conversation until another old memory made me stop in my tracks.
“I used to be so scared of that place,” I recalled, pointing at Madame Serena’s Fortune Teller Hut.
“Yo’ ass should be scared of it now too.”
“It does look a little creepy,” I chuckled. Plus, Banana Girl would lose her mind if I thought about going inside.
The sun began setting as we reached the Oceanic Plaza to catch the rest of The Inkwell. Kenyon was more focused on his phone, but it didn’t bother me since he grabbed us pizza. I was full and enjoying sitting here with Kenyon so much that I found myself stealing glances at him.
His sandy brown locs were hoisted on his head in a messy bun. It allowed me a full view of the small scar underneath his right eye, joined by brown freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. I could tell his hair texture was soft from how his new growth curled at the base of each loc. I was tempted to touch it, to feel the texture beneath my fingertips. Instead, I admired from afar.
After the movie ended, we trekked back to his car when the sound of country music floated through the air. I tilted my head, listening to the twang of guitars, which brought back memories of lazy summer evenings dancing with Mom.
With a wistful smile, I glanced at Kenyon, “We have to go inside. C’mon!”
Kenyon stared up at the sign and then back. “I’m not going in a country bar.”
“Please!”
“Fuck no.”
“My mom loves country music. You said we can do what she wants.” I smiled.
His nostrils flared because Kenyon didn’t want to, but he had given me his word. The fact that he was so devoted to doing what my Mom would’ve wanted made me feel closer to him. Maybe he wasn’t as mysterious as I presumed. I was just looking at the wrong things for clues.
“After this, Mom’s birthday is over,” Kenyon reiterated.
My features became animated as he pushed open the creaky wooden doors of Charley's Juke Joint .