14. Kenyon
14
Kenyon
S ome days, it felt like hustling operated on a different calendar than the rest of the world. Time moved faster, shortening the turnaround for tasks like collection day. I had been in my office all morning moving money and adjusting the books when Kross called and said he was on his way.
That was never a good sign, so I waited patiently to find out what the fuck was going wrong now. Kross walked into my office looking just like Pops. Not physically, because looking at us, you couldn’t even tell Pops was in the room, but his mannerisms were all Eric Keyes.
“What’s up?”
“I have to fly to Miami to meet Javier.”
“For fuckin’ what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t think to ask?” I growled, my voice rising with each word.
“It isn’t optional.” Kross's expression remained stubborn and unyielding, his jaw clenched, barely concealing his anger. “Megan can handle the club. Just check in and be available if she calls.”
“Surprised you’re not taking your girl with you.”
“I don’t fuck where I lay. That’s all you,” Kross jabbed, but I wasn’t sold. Something was going on or did at one point.
“I haven’t fucked Nova,” I replied proudly, but I thought about it often.
Too fuckin’ often, honestly. I felt like a horny ass teenager around her a lot of times. Feelings made me delusional, so I usually kept them to myself. It was safer for all parties involved. Some nights, it was hard to set foot in Utopia, watching everybody so enamored with what was mine, at least in my head.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it nigga. I think you should take Nolan with you. Just in case,” I suggested.
“I don’t need you worrying about me. I can handle myself.”
“I know you can, but you’re meeting Javier alone in an unfamiliar city. He’s not the most predictable man, and if he strikes, you’re outnumbered,” I explained.
Kross’s jaw relaxed and spread into a proud smile.
“Lemuel is meeting me down there.”
“Oh, so y’all nigga’s are going to be in Miami living it up while I’m here doing all the work.”
“It won’t kill your ass. I have to go pack.”
I followed Kross out until I turned the corner, and Zara’s gaze bore into me. I could hear the tinkle of laughter leaning on the counter, talking to Nolan.
“Looks like you’ll have plenty to do here.” Kross joked, throwing his hand up at her before opening the door to leave.
“What do you need to complain about today?” I asked.
“What happens if I don’t pay my rent?” She asked, leaning on the counter while toying with the money order.
“Your ass will be homeless. That’s what happens.”
“There’s no discount for family and friends?”
“This isn’t Footlocker, so unless you like sleeping outside, you might want to hand that over.”
I turned to head to my office while Zara mumbled in the distance until the door opened, and Miss Hernandez stormed in, talking so fast that I barely understood what she was saying. I slipped effortlessly into Spanish to defuse the situation because she always complained.
Miss Hernandez calmed down enough for Nolan to submit a maintenance request while I walked to my office. Zara didn’t plan on following me, but I didn’t mind because it was her.
“I didn’t know you speak Spanish,” she probed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“I like to keep you guessing. Keeps the romance alive,” I flirted.
She lowered her thick black lashes before demanding, “Say something in Spanish, and I’ll forgive you for not discounting my rent.”
"Hoy luces radiante, pero tu frente es grande? * ," I murmured as I settled into my office chair.
Zara's lips parted in a soft gasp. "What does it mean?"
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “It means you look radiant today,” I explained, relishing at her now flushed cheeks. “But your forehead is grande .” I looked up just in time to see Zara scowling. “You working tonight?”
“Yes, why?” Her tone was curt, likely expecting another insult while I pecked at the keys.
“I figured. What look are we going for?”
“I can’t tell Nova’s secrets, but you should pull up for the show. I think you’d get a kick out of it.”
“Why is that?”
She giggled and subconsciously shrugged. “You have to find out for yourself, duh! And don’t forget those stacks when you come.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Zara Nicole.”
Her neck fell to the side, irritated. “I’ve asked you very nicely to stop calling me that. Now we’re about to square up!”
“I’ve asked you to stop, too, but Kenyon Keyes keeps rolling off your pretty ass lips.” Zara watched me stand up and rest my palms on her thighs. “Now what?”
“If we’re going to be friends,” her dainty hand nudged me backward to create some distance, “You can’t call me Zara. No exceptions.”
“I like Zara. Besides that shiny forehead and slick mouth, she’s aite.”
She wanted to complain but was too busy blushing and pretending to be upset. Still, Zara didn’t reply with words, but my phone rang. I would’ve let it go to voicemail if Mom’s name wasn’t on the screen.
“You’re on speakerphone. Don’t say nothing, crazy woman.” My hand cupped Zara’s thigh, waiting for my mother to reply, but I heard something slamming in the distance.
“Where are the damn light bulbs?” She yelled in a tone that I’d hardly heard throughout my life.
“What lightbulbs?” I asked, and Zara’s antennas were tuned into the conversation.
“All that money we spent at that fancy school, and you don’t know what lightbulbs are?” She asked, spacing the words out evenly, and then there was another thud.
“Of course, I know what they are. Do you?” I chuckled, curious about what the hell she was up to. Mom didn’t touch the lightbulbs. Or trashcans. Not even the small ones she placed in every damn bathroom. Pops ensured it, so her random fit was comical to me and me only.
Mom usually would’ve replied in sarcasm, but not today. She was too full of grief.
“Who else is going to do it, Kenyon? Your father always-.” She paused and finally gave context to what this was really about. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not here anymore, but now I can’t find the damn bulbs.”
Zara looked at me sympathetically. We hadn’t spoken about my family, but Mom was still rambling about lightbulbs. It was easier than admitting she missed Pops.
“Calm down. I’m on my way.”
“It’s okay, Kenyon,” Mom conceded because she didn’t want me to worry or rearrange my day for her grief.
“I’m already in the car. I’ll be there in a minute,” I lied, hanging up before she could object.
My girl wasn’t okay, and I wouldn’t be either until I laid eyes on her.
“I gotta head out.”
“Okay,” “I can come with you. I m-mean, if you need me to.”
“I’m good, Babygirl, but I appreciate it.” I winked, trying to lighten the mood for my own sake.
Her offer was sincere, but the thing I needed from her, she couldn’t give in words. I cupped her face and leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. I didn’t even ask, but I needed her. Before falling headfirst into the deep end, she pulled back, wiping her mouth.
“You can call me if you need to,” Zara said with compassion in her eyes.
I kissed the top of her head, and grabbed my keys to drive to Magnolia Lane. Turning into the driveway, I didn’t know what condition I would find Mom in. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to anchor it today, but I had to try.
A heaviness hovered over the house when I entered the foyer like a dark cloud. I walked around the ladder in the middle of the hallway and found Mom hunched over in the living room.
“You’re really showing off now. First the bulbs and now the ladder.”
Somehow, we had traded places at this moment as Mom collapsed in my arms, crying.
“The bulbs in the bathroom went out. I tried to change it, but I couldn’t even find the damn bulbs in my own house! How pathetic is that?”
I forced her neck back and smiled before kissing her forehead.
“There’s nothing pathetic about your husband taking care of you.”
“My husband,” Mom scoffed a little, wiping her tears. “He’s not here now, so what good is that?”
“What am I? Chopped liver?”
A laugh managed to sneak past her tears. “Oh please, Kenyon. You’ve got your own life. What have you been doing today anyway?”
“Working hard now, I’m starving. Did you cook?”
“No, I did not.”
“How am I going to change lightbulbs on an empty stomach?”
“I suppose you can’t, huh?”
“No, I can’t.”
“I guess I can make something happen for my guest .”
“Your guest?” I groaned as she turned and headed for the kitchen.
As I walked through the familiar halls, each step echoed with the weight of memories long past. Pushing aside the sad thoughts, I focused on changing the burnt-out bulbs.
Mom lifted her head as I walked into the kitchen, “You found the bulbs?”
“I’ve always known where they are.” Pops made sure of it because if he wasn’t home and Loriann called him complaining, it was our ass on the line.
“Where were they?”
“That’s for me to know and you to mind your business.”
“It’s my house,” Mom quipped.
“You have two sons. Use them instead of dragging the ladder out. What were you trying to do? Kill yourself to be with your husband?”
“Alright now,” she warned, and I conceded.
“The bulbs have been replaced.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mama.”
A chime from my phone snagged my attention.
Zara Nicole: Is mom okay?
Me: You worried about your mother-in-law?
Zara Nicole: I’m being serious, Kenyon.
Me: She’s good, don’t stress yourself that forehead is already big enough.
“Who’s that?” Mom asked.
“What are you talking about, woman?”
“The ‘lil grin on your face when you looked at your phone. Is it Sydney?” She probed because she needed something else to think about other than Dad being gone.
But if I responded, that would’ve opened the door for more questions I likely wouldn’t answer, so I changed the subject.
“Can I ask you something?” Mom made an inaudible groan. “When you found out who Pop really was. What made you stay?”
Her eyes smoldered with fire before asking, “And who was he?”
“Mom,” I begged, out of love and respect for her.
“Beating around the bush isn’t your style.” She paused and looked me square in the eye. “So who was he?”
“A drug dealer.”
Zara’s face kept appearing in my thoughts. Her smile, her laugh, how she looked at me with those curious eyes. I doubt she’d look at me the same if she knew the things I didn’t discuss. Pops would’ve been the ideal person to ask, but he wasn’t here, and nobody knew him better than Loriann.
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I asked Kenyon. Is that all you saw when you looked at him?”
“Some days.”
Her smile faltered slightly. “If he were here, he’d tell you he didn’t feel like much of a good man most days. He had a lot of regrets about the decisions he made. Especially when he came home and looked at his children, especially you.”
My chuckle turned into a scoff. I couldn’t tell if Mom was being honest or trying to improve the image of her late husband.
“Eric saw so much of himself in you. Stubbornness, the need to prove yourself, and loyalty to the people you care about. But most of all, the struggle between wanting to do the right thing and feeling trapped by circumstances. He didn’t want you to make the same choices he did, to feel the same regrets. But he didn’t know how to show it or how to reach you. So instead, he tried to mold you into something different.”
I swallowed hard, the realization settling in. "He hated me because he hated himself?”
She lifted her eyes, delivering a warning glare because even in death, she wouldn’t tolerate anyone slandering Eric Keyes’s name.
“He didn't hate you, Kenyon. He loved you both, but Kross didn't challenge your father like you did. Eric saw himself in you but knew Kross would follow the rules and keep things steady. You were a constant reminder of his failures and regrets. It wasn't fair, but it’s the truth.”
It was hard to reconcile my image of my father with the one she was painting, so I changed the subject.
“Did you ever think about leaving?”
“I did more than think about it,” she repeated softly with a smirk. “I did leave, but Eric, being Eric, refused to let me go. He showed up wherever I was with flowers. A gift. Anything he could think of.”
“You had Pops strung out like that?”
“For about a month. He refused to give up because he said he could live without many things, but I was the only person who’d ever looked at him with love. He didn’t even see it looking in his mother’s eyes, and it wasn’t until he met me that he realized what he had been missing.”
She sighed, the memories weighing on her. “My Grandma used to say hope is your brain trying to reconcile things we know aren’t right. If she had lived long enough to meet Eric, she would’ve reminded me of that and told me to run as far as possible.” Mom let out a laugh that made me smile.
“Were you scared to stay?”
“I was terrified. But I also saw the man he wanted to be, the man I believed he could become. I know you didn’t think much of him at times, but he worked so hard that he wanted you and Kross to have more choices than he did.”
“I never said that.”
“You wanted to every time I had to pick your head up after a fight with your father. That was his path. What’s your excuse?”
Her question hit me hard, like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up a hand, stopping me.
“Kenyon, your father worked hard so you and Kross could have choices. He wanted better for you. And yet, you're here, making the same decisions he did, justifying them the same way. You can blame circumstances all you want, but at the end of the day, you're choosing this life. Make peace with that or do something about it.”
Her comparison made my posture stiffen. "At the time, I didn’t have a choice. I did what Kross needed me to do.”
She sighed, her expression softening. "So who is she?”
“What?”
“The woman that has you standing in my kitchen searching for advice in your parent’s relationship. Tell me something about her.”
I knew Zara fumbled her words when she got nervous. She loved to dance but hated attention. Country music made her light up, but Tanner Adell’s voice was her favorite. Whenever Zara was unsure, she’d twist the ring on her finger. She was a complex mixture of independence and naivety. Not in an airhead kind of way, Zara was still finding her way in life.
“I will if I need to,” I replied.
“I’m not the only one who’s lost something, you know,” she said, shifting the conversation's focus. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Now, how are you really doing?”
“I’m fine, Kenyon.”
“It didn’t sound like it earlier.”
“I spent more than half my life with the man. I’m allowed to have a moment.”
“It’s not the moments I’m worried about,” I confessed. “If the house is too much to main-.”
But Mom didn’t let me finish my sentence. She never did when the topic of moving came up. “I’m not leaving my house, so let’s eat.”
We sat at the table and enjoyed each other’s company until Megan called and asked if I was nearby. I wasn’t, but I could tell by her tone that I needed to get to the club, so Mom packed up the rest of my plate, and I promised to call tomorrow.
“Thank you, Kenyon.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that. I love you, Ma.”
“I love you too. Everything Eric wasn’t is planted in you, and that made him so proud. Even though at times you didn’t think so.”
“Night, Mama.”
“Goodnight, Kenyon. Be safe.”
Backing out of the driveway, I headed to the club, replaying my conversation with my mom. Her words had cut through the noise, leaving me with a raw, uncomfortable truth. Pulling into the parking lot, the line was wrapped around the damn parking lot. Everybody was dressed like they were headed to a rodeo or the derby, not a night out at Utopia.
“What the fuck is going on tonight?” I asked, approaching Daris at the door. When he finished patting down the man before him, he tossed his thumb over his shoulder.
“Nova’s Rodeo. She’s headlining tonight,” Daris replied, motioning the next customer up to the line. “She has a signature drink for the night and everything.”
“Kross went for that?” I asked out of curiosity.
His brows shrugged as he patted down the next patron. I couldn’t wait to hear the backstory of how this happened, but I slithered through the entryway in the meantime. Weaving through the crowd, I stopped at the bar first because my mind was still with my mother.
“Hey, Keyes,” Tambra smiled, gripping the counter's edge. “What can I get for you?”
“What’s the special tonight?”
“Buckle Bunny Mule or Rodeo Rebel,” Tambra recited from memory.
“Rodeo Rebel, and don’t give me that bottom shelf shit either!” I yelled because she had already squandered to the end of the bar.
Tambra handed me my drink, and DJ Beats’ voice boomed through the speakers.
"Alright, folks, saddle up and hold onto your hats, but let go of that money! Comin' to the stage is the one and only Nova!”
There she was in full cowgirl regalia. Her crop top with a tie-front closure and silver metallic fringe trim fit her well. Blonde was her wig of choice tonight, parted down the middle into two pigtails like a true country girl.
The opening notes of Tanner Adell's "Buckle Bunny" blared through the club as she spun around, arching her back while groping her body. Every man in attendance was caught in Zara’s maze or so mesmerized that they tossed all their money on the stage.
I couldn’t blame them because I was caught in her light too. It was so blinding that I couldn’t see or think straight. Zara was a star in the making, and she knew exactly how to hold the audience in her hand. As the music pulsed, she hopped off the stage, landing gracefully and moving through the crowd making every nigga in attendance feel like this show was curated with them in mind.
My heart pounded when Zara stopped in front of me, spinning around and pressing her ass against me. She gave me a slow, seductive smile, making me feel like a little ass boy getting his first dance.
“Spin me like a spur. Make my snakeskin rattle!”
As quickly as Zara appeared, she was back on stage, twirling and climbing the height of the pole at the same time. Her frame curled around it before flipping upside down with her legs in a split.
I don’t know how she was able to hold herself upside down on the pole by her ankles, but it made my dick hard thinking about all the other things she could do. The final notes played as she slid down the pole into a split. The applause was deafening, but all I could think about was the moment Zara danced just for me.
“Thanks for stopping by. It’s been hectic tonight,” Megan sighed, walking beside me while Zara disappeared behind the curtain.
“Packed house.”
Megan looked around and nodded. “I have to admit I didn’t think this was a good idea. What do nigga’s know about a rodeo?” Megan chuckled at her own question. “But she pulled it off.”
“Yeah, she did.”
“You good though?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here for a minute.”
“Okay.”
Zara had changed and returned to the floor by now, still riding the high from her performance. I wanted to steal her away from all the roaming hands and lustful stares, but it was her big night. Playing it cool, I sat back and observed, ensuring nobody got out of line when Zara finally walked in my direction.
“Howdie, cowboy,” she drawled, propping her boot on the rim of my seat.
I chuckled, raising my glass. “You put on quite the show.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” Zara replied, studying my face before asking. “Everything okay?”
“C’mere,” I curled my finger, motioning her closer. When we were damn near chest to chest, I bent down to her ear. “I’ve never seen a cowgirl as cute as you.”
She rolled her eyes and turned her neck to hide her cheeks blushing. “I’m the only cowgirl you’ve ever seen.”
I shrugged. “Still makes it true, Babygirl.”
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“Kross is out of town. Making sure everything’s running smoothly.” She studied me for a moment, her playful demeanor fading. “Stop looking at me like you wanna give me a VIP special.”
I could see the lightbulb illuminating in her head as she took my glass and finished it.
“What if I want to?”
“Don’t talk about it, be about it.”
Accepting the challenge, Zara walked me to the VIP hallway. Opening the door, she flipped the switch, marking the room occupied while I sat down and removed the blunt from my pocket.
Zara dropped beside me, with her elbow propped on the back of the velvet couch. She was studying me again. Likely searching for a way to ask whatever was on her mind without making me shut down. She didn’t bring me here for the Nova Experience, but it felt so good to finally sit down and have a quiet moment with Zara’s perfume dancing on my nose.
“Did you just sniff me?” She giggled.
“What are you wearing today?”
“Gucci Guilty. It was Mom’s second favorite.”
“I like it.”
“Thank you. How’s your Mom?”
“Your mother-in-law?” I casually jested, “She had a moment, but she’ll be aite.”
“What happened with your dad?”
“He died.”
My blunt response filled her eyes with sympathy.
“How come you didn’t tell me?”
“You never asked.”
“Everything doesn’t have to be top secret. Not with me.”
“You haven’t told me about yours either,” I countered, breaking my concentration to give her eye contact.
Zara was growing annoyed but decided to extend an olive branch, hoping I would return the favor.
“I don’t know my biological father. I've never met him. I couldn’t even tell you his name,” she shared, twirling the ring on her finger. I noticed the subtle gesture, the telltale sign of her nerves. “My dad is with Shana. He got her an upgrade for their tenth wedding anniversary, so she gave me the old one as a reminder that if a man doesn’t treat me the way Dad treats us, he’s not the one.”
“Shana sounds smart,” I replied between picking Zara up and sitting her on my lap.
“She’s something.”
“Now, it’s your turn.”
“Why are you so nosey?”
“I’m not. I just like knowing things,” she admitted, fingering my locs because the conversation made her antsy.
“Knowing things can be just as shitty, sometimes it’s better to keep shit tucked.”
“You can tell me anything. I like knowing things about you.”
Her response hit me like bricks because there were so many that she didn’t know about. Zara meant it as much as she could because she didn’t see the mess inside me to know how slippery that slope was.
“Do you look like Shana?”
“She would say so, but I disagree. I mean, I’m pretty, but she’s beautiful.” Zara rambled until she caught herself narrowing her gaze. “You almost got me. You can’t push your way into my life and not let me into yours.”
“She thought about my dad, and it hit her hard. Hit me hard too.”
“What happened to him?”
“He had high blood pressure for years, but he ignored it. Skipped check-ups and ignored the symptoms. Thought he could handle it on his own.”
"He never said anything. Not even to your mom?”
“He was too proud and didn’t want us worrying about him. Thought it was just part of getting old,” I shrugged.
I reclined, staring at the ceiling because looking at the sympathy in Zara’s eyes was hard to watch. I guess Pops couldn’t bring himself to tell Mom the truth.
“It was too late when we realized something was wrong. His kidneys were failing. He didn’t want anyone hovering over him, so he didn’t tell us.”
By the time he did, it wasn’t shit he could do to ease Loriann’s gut-wrenching cry. He’d failed, and I wondered if he had it to do over again, would he have chosen differently?
“Kidney failure,” she whispered, placing a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Kenyon. That’s tough.”
I ran a hand over my face.
“Watching him go downhill, knowing it didn’t have to be that way if he’d just taken care of himself. If he loved her more than life itself like he claimed, why the fuck would he do that to her. Even if he couldn’t accept it for himself, do it for her.”
The grief I'd been trying to suppress all night suddenly became too much to hold back. My throat tightened, and before I knew it, a single tear escaped down my cheek. Zara leaned in and gently dabbed it with her thumb, wiping it away. She just sat close like she was shielding me from everything I didn’t want to face.
“So this is the Nova Special ? Taking nigga’s in VIP and wiping their tears? That’s how you get deep in their pockets, huh?”
But Zara, being Zara, didn't let the moment get awkward. She leaned forward, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, “What tears?”
I needed more of her. Something that would take me out of my own head. I leaned over and slipped my tongue into her mouth. It was sudden, desperate, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into me, her lips soft and inviting, like she understood what I needed without saying so.
When we finally pulled back, she was smiling, a little shy and giddy, and I realized I probably had the same dumb grin.
Zara laughed softly, the weight of the night easing a little. Whatever just happened, it was exactly what I needed.
“But seeing you up there tonight helped. Thanks for asking about Mom.”
“It’s the least I could do after what you’ve done for me. I guess I just wanted to return the favor.”
“I have a secret to tell you.” She tucked her bottom lip and leaned in because Zara loved learning. It didn’t matter what the subject was. “Everything I do for you is so you miss me when I’m not around.”
“You’re such a flirt.”
“When I meet Shana, tell her I’ve been taking good care of you. I need all those brownie points.”
“Taking good care of me would include my rent,” Zara joked, or maybe she wasn’t.
“You killed it tonight for real.” My tongue traced the softness of her full lips, and a soft whimper escaped, “You were made for the stage. Never forget it.”
“What were you made for?” She asked, relaxing into the cushion of my lap.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted but quickly turned the conversation back to her. “But I got stacks for you Cowgirl since you killed it tonight. That should cover your rent and more.”
Zara could feel me slipping, even though she didn’t know all the masks I wore pulling me back toward the light. Zara grounded me in a way no one else could, and it scared me if I’m honest. With her, I felt whole, even if it was just in the moments we shared.
* ? Today you look radiant, but your forehead is big