21. Zara
21
Zara
L ife had a funny way of catching up to you. One minute, everything was spiraling, too fast to grab onto anything, and the next, it slowed down. That’s where I found myself now, and I was grateful for the slow mornings that allowed me to drop by and visit Banana Girl before work.
When I reached her room, I overheard a deep male voice asking how she felt.
“I've been feeling good, Doc," Banana Girl said, her voice full of that stubborn determination I know so well. "When do you think I can go home?”
I froze in the doorway, listening in. She had been making great progress lately, but I hadn’t even thought about her coming home yet.
“Well, you’ve been improving quickly,” the doctor responded, flipping through her chart. “But let’s not rush. We still need to ensure everything stays on track, especially after your hospital vacation.”
Banana Girl sucked her teeth, “I don’t see how a ‘lil UTI can keep me here.”
“Because he’s the doctor,” I interjected gently, glancing between them. “We know you’re feeling fine now. We just want to keep it that way.”
The doctor nodded. “Exactly. After a stroke, the risk of infection can increase because of mobility and bladder function issues. UTIs might seem small, but if they’re not managed, they can lead to more serious problems.”
I looked back at Nana, softening my tone. “You’ve come so far, and I don’t want anything slowing you down now.”
N ana scoffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t want to stay here forever.”
“Now I see where Mama gets her dramatic side from.”
“Don’t you make fun of me, little girl. I’m starting to think you want to keep me here.”
“We’re all ready for you to come home, but not until the doctor thinks you’re ready.” She shot me a look that screamed she wasn’t pleased.
“You’re doing great, Ms. Prescott. Home is in the near future, not the rearview. If you’re still doing well in a few weeks, discharge will be an option.”
He paused, waiting for her to respond, but she was pissed. After I thanked him for his patience, he left us alone.
“If I acted like that, you would’ve put me over your knee.”
“Take me home and test it out.”
“See, I got Cow Tales on my way here, but I’m not sharing them with that attitude.”
She cracked a stubborn grin, “It’s the least you can do.”
We enjoyed General Hospital over Cow Tales, which seemed to lift her spirits. It was hard to stalk the clock when Sonny Corinthos was having some stand-off. There was always something with him, but I held her hand, enjoying our time together until I left for work.
It felt like time was on crack because before I knew it, I was on my way to Utopia. I grabbed my bag and stepped out of the car, when I noticed a man standing by the entrance, leaning against his unmarked vehicle. His eyes locked on me when I shut the door, and my stomach dropped.
“Nova, can I have a word with you?” The man asked, walking closer.
"Yes?"
"I’m Detective Jones. Can you come down to the station for a few questions," he said, his tone firm but not aggressive. "It won’t take long.”
I glanced back at Utopia, then at him, my heart racing.
“Questions about what?”
"The murder of Makori Jenkins and Natasha Flowers. We’re just trying to piece things together. You had an argument with Makori the night he died, correct?"
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. I couldn't let him see how shaken I was. "I’m a dancer. It comes with the territory.”
"You were one of the last people to see him alive. It's routine. We just need to clarify a few things.”
I stared at him, his words settling heavily on my chest. I wasn't stupid, and I knew where this was headed. They were trying to connect dots that weren’t there. But I also knew refusing would make me look guilty about something I didn’t do.
"I have work. Maybe tomorrow," I suggested, my voice wavering slightly.
“Natasha’s family is desperately searching for answers. We’d appreciate your cooperation."
“Alright. Let’s get it over with.”
We arrived at the station, and it felt like everybody was watching me. I recognized a few of the faces from the club, but I kept my head down and followed Detective Jones. The room was small and colder than Kenyon’s house, which made me regret leaving my jacket.
The questions started slow, asking about my whereabouts the night Makori was killed. Then his partner joined us, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for me to trip up.
"You were seen arguing with him at Route 66. What was that about?" Jones asked, voice flat but sharp enough to make me shift in my seat.
"It was nothing," I answered carefully, trying not to give away too much. "He hit on me, and I turned him down.”
"And then you left?" Jones asked, pushing for something more.
"We ate first, then we left.”
His partner chimed in, his tone more aggressive. "Then shortly after, the diner was shot up, and now Makori is dead.”
"That’s what I heard, but I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
They kept pressing, asking about Makori, Natasha, and anyone who could’ve been involved. Then the door swung open, and the air shifted. I could tell immediately he was someone important. The sharp suit, polished shoes, and an aura of authority forced both detectives to stand a little straighter. His eyes lingered on my face for a split second, like he’d seen a ghost.
He didn’t bother introducing himself, but a polite smile tugged at his lips. "Give us the room.”
The detectives exchanged a glance but didn’t argue. They left quietly, shutting the door behind them.
"I know this must all feel overwhelming. One day, you’re living life, and suddenly, you're dragged into something you had no control over." His voice was calm and soothing, playing the good cop role effortlessly. "I just want to help you clear this up."
"I already told them what I know. Why do I need to repeat it?"
"Of course, but there are still a few details we’re unclear about. Like your relationship with Kenyon Keyes."
I stiffened but kept my face neutral, sticking to things that were public knowledge in Northbridge, “He stops by the club to see Kross sometime.”
He muttered something I couldn’t quite understand under his breath but quickly straightened in his seat and asked, “Where are you from, Nova?”
“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
“Just curious. You seem like a nice woman. I’d hate for you to be caught in the middle of something that has nothing to do with you.”
I frowned slightly, sensing more beneath his words, but before I could respond, his eyes lingered on my face again, longer this time. It was unsettling as if he were seeing someone else entirely.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
He smiled, picking up on my trap like I’d caught his.
"You’re not in any trouble right now, Miss Nova," he said, his tone shifting again to one of reassurance. "But I want you to think carefully about the company you keep. Some men aren’t always what they seem."
He leaned forward, sliding the crime scene photos across the table.
" Like you, Natasha was a nice woman but got caught up with the wrong man. Look where it got her."
I froze, my eyes falling on the brutal images. Natasha’s apartment was covered in blood. My stomach twisted, but I refused to flinch and give him the reaction he was fishing for. He was trying to push me, but I wasn’t about to let him win, no matter how sick the photos made me feel. I swallowed hard, holding it together, at least for now.
"Thanks for the advice, but I need to get back to work,” I said, standing up and reminding him I was here as a courtesy and nothing more.
He gave me a slight nod, though the tension in the room didn’t ease. "Of course. You’re free to go."
As I turned to leave, he called after me one last time. “Just remember, sometimes the people closest to you can be the ones hiding the darkest secrets.”
I didn’t look back as I walked out, but his words echoed. Something about him wasn’t right, or the way he’d looked at me.
But I wasn’t about to let him use me against Kenyon. Not now, not ever.
Leaving the precinct, my thoughts were spinning, but I didn’t have time to process any of it. As soon as I walked through the door, Megan awaited me.
“I thought I’d at least get a thank you for putting you back on nights.”
“Why did you take me off in the first place?” I asked.
“Everybody rotates shifts except Rajah.”
“That’s funny, I can’t remember the last time I saw Phoenix or Diamond on days but thanks,” I quipped, and surprisingly she didn’t say anything just stared me down as I walked to the back.
The rest of my shift blurred by in a haze. I danced, smiled, and played my part, but my head was miles away. Time dragged, but when my shift ended, I slipped out of my uniform and tossed my belongings in my bag when I heard Rajah’s voice.
“Hey, Freshie,” Rajah called out as I got dressed. “Long time no see.”
“I know. I’m finally back on nights.”
“I hate to admit it, but I missed you,” Rajah said, not because she didn’t mean it. She was just used to keeping her feelings to herself. “How did you get off her shit list?”
“No clue. Can’t even tell you how I got on it.”
Rajah finished opening her locker before she turned around.
“A bitch will hate you just for being you. Or because of how other people treat you like you can help that. Either way, that’s on them. Don’t stress about what a bitch won’t speak on.”
Being the oldest, I was used to giving advice rather than receiving it. Rajah was like the older sister I always wanted, dropping life gems.
“I love how you don’t care what anyone says about you.”
“Why should I? I can’t take that shit to the rent office, and it definitely won’t help me feed that grown man disguised as a child living in my house. But the upside is you’ll be off on my birthday. I need you to do my hair, and you can’t say no to the birthday girl.”
“What do you want done?”
“A lil’ half up and half down action.” Rajah looped her arm inside mine, laying on my shoulder for dramatic effect, “You got me?”
“Yes, but make sure you get the right hair, too. Even my skills can’t make bad bundles look good.”
Rajah danced to show her excitement.
“Of course. You know the queen has to come correct for her birthday.”
“You’re crazy, girl. I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
“Going home to see Keyes ?” Rajah asked, but it wasn’t a question. I could tell from the smirk on her face.
“Don’t start.”
“What?” She dragged out. “I’m curious, but you’re keeping me in the dark like a peasant.”
“Why are they so worried about me?”
“No offense, but they’re worried about Keyes, not you. He’s been all business and less fun since you showed up. Let them tell it.”
“What kind of fun?” I asked.
Rajah paused, staring at the ground, then sighed, “Because I like you, Freshie, I’mma keep it a buck. Syd and Keyes like to have fun and aren’t opposed to paying for it, but I haven’t heard shit since y’all started messing around.”
“Which one? Phoenix or Diamond? Hell, was it both?” I rambled at Rajah before throwing the rest of my stuff in my bag.
“Phoenix,” she replied, and I slammed my locker shut, irritated. “Look, I get your feelings are hurt, and yeah, he should’ve said something, but if you’re upset about every bitch Keyes fucked you’re gonna be mad for a long time.”
Rajah had been blunt since I met her. I had never been on the receiving end, and it didn’t feel good.
“Bye, Rajah.”
“Damn, what I did do?” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up.
Rajah sucked her teeth, watching me head for the door. “So I guess that means I need to call my cousin, huh?”
I didn’t reply, rushing out of the back door to my car. I slid inside, feeling like I could breathe, until my phone rang.
“What?” I snapped.
“You must have me confused with some other nigga answering the phone like that,” Kenyon quipped, his tone light.
“What do you want, Kenyon?”
“I’m picking up food. What are you in the mood for?” he asked because, for him, it was a regular day while I was harboring feelings I didn’t know what to do with.
“Nothing. I’m going home tonight.”
He paused for a beat, and I almost heard him shake his head. “So what do you want to eat?” he reiterated because his house was home.
That got to me just a little. He’d said it before, but with everything swirling in my head, it hit differently.
“I’m not hungry,” I muttered.
“See you soon, Zara Nicole.” His voice softened at the end, leaving no room for argument before he hung up.
I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. For all my attitude, I knew I’d end up at his place. Because as much as I hated to admit it, Kenyon’s home was starting to feel like mine, too.
His car beat mine to the driveway, and I climbed out, ready for a shower and maybe even a drink. I needed something to help sort through my emotions. Usually, walking in Kenyon’s house calmed me, but it was the opposite tonight.
“It’s freezing in here,” I complained, marching up the stairs.
“That’s what blankets are for.”
“Or you could just move to Antarctica instead of turning the thermostat,” I leaned in to read the exact number. “To Sixty-eight!”
“The longer you stand here complaining, the colder you’ll be,” he chuckled, nudging me toward his bedroom.
I dropped my bag at the door and plopped on the edge of the bed, wondering if there was some truth to all of it. I wasn’t blind to the fact that there were many sides to Kenyon. He could be as sweet as a summer rain or treacherous as a thunderstorm. Romantic but guarded. It wasn’t impossible that he was both Prince Charming and a devil in disguise.
“You might have to come up off that apartment,” Kenyon announced, stealing my attention.
“Why?”
Kenyon ignored it and chuckled as if the question answered itself. “You’re never there, Babygirl. You’re holding up a unit and not paying rent.”
“Then maybe I need to stay home more often,” I snapped.
“Who pissed you off tonight?” I shook my head, trying to reel in my emotions. Then Kenyon pecked my lips again before scooping his phone up. “I gotta take this. You good?”
“I’m home. Why wouldn’t I be?” I mocked.
Kenyon kissed me again, and I hopped in the shower, hoping it slowed my thoughts. When I finished, he was still somewhere other than his bedroom, so I made myself comfortable in bed. Kenyon finally joined me, engrossed in his current read.
Tired of torturing myself, I rolled over.
“Can I talk to you about something?”
“What’s on that big ass forehead of yours?”
Kenyon gave me his undivided attention, smoothing my curls down. How he looked at me so focused and ready to slay whatever dragon had me stuck didn’t help. Telling him the truth was a risk, but not telling him felt like a bigger one.
I didn’t know how to spit it out, so I focused on a less pressing conflict.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Phoenix?”
“Tell you what?”
“Don’t make me say it. You know what I’m talking about.” His deadpan expression made me furious. I tried to slide out of bed, but he caught my arm, yanking me into him. “Move Kenyon!”
“That shit was a long time ago.”
“How long?” I asked.
“Where is all the shit coming from?”
My chest ached as the tears started, no matter how hard I tried to stop them. I wasn’t even angry anymore. I was scared because I didn’t know how Kenyon would take what I had to say next.
“The police questioned me today.”
He jumped out of bed, standing on his bowed legs, “What?”
“I was headed to work, and Detective Jones asked me to come to the station. They asked me questions about Makori and what we argued about.” His intense gaze made me so nervous that I began pacing and talking faster. "Then, another guy came in. He told them to get out and mentioned you by name, Kenyon, asking how we knew each other.”
His jaw tightened, but I wasn’t sure what was the cause.
"What did he look like?"
I took a deep breath, trying to recall, "He was, umm, older and well-dressed. He had a clean cut, a beard, and dark skin."
Kenyon’s expression didn’t change much, but something in his eyes did. I could see recognition flicker across his face.
"You know him, don’t you?" His silence told me everything, and the frustration boiled up inside me. "What is going on?"
He clenched his jaw, refusing to give anything away.
"Kenyon!" I snapped, my voice cracking. "You have to tell me something!”
But he stood silent, wearing a mask I couldn’t read. It made me feel so small like I didn’t deserve to know whatever he was hiding.
Tears blurred my vision again, and I wiped them away angrily. "You wanted to be my man so bad, well. My man wouldn’t keep secrets from me. I can’t protect you or me if I don’t know what is happening!”
“You don’t like secrets when you’re on the receiving end, but you’ve got plenty, Zara Nicole.”
Kenyon’s accusation had my heartbeat drumming in my ears. He finally chose to speak, and this is what he had to say.
"Don’t try to change the subject!”
“ Secrets ! That’s the fuckin’ subject, right?” He asked, approaching me. "Secrets are why you tense up whenever someone asks you where you’re from. And let’s not forget how you cringe when I call you Zara Nicole. You think I haven’t noticed all that? You really think I don’t pay attention to you?”
I swallowed hard, struggling to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I was spiraling.
“But I’m patient with you because I understand we all have shit. Me, you, and everybody else walking this fuckin’ earth.”
“ My shit didn’t have you sitting in a police station today!”
“Maybe not, but it makes me wonder how much I can trust you.” Kenyon walked out, but I was enraged at how Kenyon managed to flip things on me.
I didn’t want to leave like this, but I couldn’t stay either. I didn’t know this cold version of Kenyon—one who didn’t seem to care about me or how I felt. So, I moved around the room, throwing my belongings in my bag. When I reached the bottom step, I looked up at Kenyon seated on the couch.
"I think I should go home tonight," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I waited for a response, for Kenyon to say something, anything. But he didn’t. He remained silent with his shoulders squared.
I hesitated for a moment, my hand lingering on the doorknob. I wanted to break through the wall that had suddenly sprung up between us, but I couldn’t find the words. So I pushed down the hurt and walked out.
Nothing real could ever be built on a lie, and there was already enough between us.