22. Kenyon
22
Kenyon
T his was uncharted territory because I didn’t stick around long enough to have problems I wanted to fix. All I knew how to do was prove my point and get my way, but Babygirl wasn’t giving me that. I used to crack on Pops for being so soft with Mom. Like, he couldn’t breathe without her telling him to, and now I fully understood. He couldn’t. I guess that’s why it was hard for Kross to breathe most days, too, now that Maliah was gone.
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, my last text to Sydney went unanswered like all the others. We still hadn’t spoken, but one way or another, we were going to. In Sydney’s mind, Zara had come between us, so it was easy to blame her, but it was deeper than that, especially after that interview.
I climbed out of bed and dressed to meet Kross. He claimed he had something important to discuss. It likely wasn’t as urgent as he sounded via text, but I walked into my closet, chuckling at the basket of overflowing laundry that piled up quicker thanks to sharing my shit with Zara.
The house felt too damn quiet without her. It was almost stifling, so I dressed quickly and drove to Utopia. I parked my car and braced myself but sighed in relief when I didn’t see her.
“Wassup Kross,” I greeted him while he stared briefly with narrow eyes.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Do you need to talk about it?”
I did, but Eric Keyes was more qualified on the subject. I forgot he wasn’t here, so I dialed his number last night because that’s how grief works. It doesn’t always show up in big moments like birthdays or death anniversaries. It hits at random moments, like when you need female advice from your father.
“Not to you.”
His dark brows slanted into a frown, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’m not in the mood to hear your mouth.”
“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about how Nova’s got you down bad, that’s on you.”
“I am down a ‘lil bad,” I joked because laughing about it was the only thing keeping me sane. “Can I ask you something without you trippin’ for the next seventy-two hours?”
Kross hesitated because I never filtered myself or what I had to say. I just said it, and people had to deal with it, but this was different. If I was asking first, it could only be about one thing.
“Shoot.”
“Did Maliah know everything?”
He sighed, a deep, soulful sound, and leaned back. “No, she didn’t. She had this light in her that I didn’t want to risk dimming with the truth.”
Kross paused, collecting his thoughts. “Sometimes I think she knew something, though. She looked at me like she saw me and wanted me to know it was okay. She never pushed, just waited on me to be ready.”
I nodded, absorbing his words and feeling them resonate within me.
“Maliah was special,” I agreed because he was the happiest when he was with her. Now that she was gone, so was the hope in his eyes. “Too special. Shit, I still don’t know why she settled for you.”
“Me either,” Kross smirked, likely recalling the wedding ring he never got to give her.
“Have you checked on Mila lately?” I asked, referring to Maliah’s daughter.
“Outside of Ms. Brooklene thanking me for the monthly deposits, no.”
“You might want to go see her. She’s already lost her mom. She shouldn’t lose you too.”
“Does she know?” Kross asked, changing the subject.
“Nah,” I dragged, scratching my head, “That’s what the argument was about. A bunch of shit I can’t tell her. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to. Even when she makes me so fuckin’ mad, and I tell myself she has to eat that consequence, I save her anyway because I can’t take the thought of her suffering. Maybe I shouldn’t have her, but I can’t stop dreaming of all the ways I could.”
“Damn. That was sweet. I’m a ‘lil shocked, but you have always been a trick,” Kross shrugged to complete his statement.
“This is why I don’t tell you anything. Your black ass hasn’t helped yet.”
“What about her job?”
“What about it?”
“Don’t make me say it unless you can handle hearing it,” Kross warned.
“Speak your peace,” I groaned, knowing I wouldn’t like it.
“She’s a stripper, and we both know what comes with that. Can you handle it?”
“I doubt it,” the corner of my mouth lifted, half-smiling at how Zara made me so jealous by just existing. “But I can’t judge her for doing what she gotta do. How can I when I’ve done worse?”
Plus, Zara loved to dance, and I loved her enough not to stand in the way of that. At least for now.
“We all do what we have to do,” Kross reasoned, trying to ease my guilt.
“True, but what makes my shit any different from hers?”
Kross's expression softened slightly, but the protective edge never left his eyes. “Javier hit me yesterday asking if we considered his proposition.”
“I don’t know yet,” I replied before he could even ask.
“You need to sooner than later.”
Rajah stormed in like a hurricane, her face twisted with that all-too-familiar scowl.
“You better get your girl! She’s got one more smart comment before I hurt her damn feelings,” she spat, glaring at me.
“I’m going to hurt your feelings if you keep walking around here like you’re running shit,” Kross scolded.
“If you want this place shut down with a murder investigation, that’s on you.”
“You heard what I said,” Kross replied, causing her to suck her teeth.
“Surprised you even gave her that,” I chimed in.
“Me too,” Rajah complained, sinking into the empty chair beside me, “But she’s kinda like that annoying little sister. You wanna whoop her ass and remind her who’s boss, but you love her, so you don’t.”
“Iono, why you’re making yourself comfortable,” Kross fussed, pointing at the door.
Rajah flipped her hand at him before shifting toward me.
“Chill on, Babygirl, man. You’re the one who ran your mouth. Didn’t even give a nigga a heads up. That’s foul as fuck Raj.”
“Oh please, Babygirl needs to toughen up fucking with you, and if anybody’s to blame, it’s you. You’ve fucked everything in here but me.”
“What the fuck was I supposed to say?”
Rajah and Kross shared an exaggerated look.
“I fucked Phoenix. That might be why she hates you,” Rajah replied, making it sound so simple. Her eyes softened when I didn’t reply, “Pick your face up. This isn’t like you.”
“I’m straight,” I lied, but Rajah was good at reading people. She knew I was lying but didn’t call me on it. Neither did Kross.
“I’m going to get a drink to calm my nerves,” Rajah announced, pouncing on her feet.
“Make sure Tam puts that shit on your tab, too,” Kross yelled, but Rajah shut the door behind her, tuning him out.
“Your girl found out you fucked Phoenix and gave you hell for it?” Kross asked.
“That shit didn’t mean nothing.”
“No woman wants to hear shit about her man from another woman. Especially one she doesn’t like. That’s on you, not Rajah.”
“Here you go. Are you fuckin Rajah the way you let her get away with shit?”
“Unlike you, I have boundaries. I don’t fuck my employees.”
“Boundaries or avoidance?” I asked since we were calling each other out.
“I’m not the one looking like a sad puppy. You need to take your balls out of Nova’s purse.”
“I like them there fuck nigga. I’m out.”
“Don’t go do something stupid finding your way home, Snoopy.”
I flipped him my middle finger and strolled out of his office, hoping to catch a glimpse of Zara. If this is what it felt like craving your next hit, I could understand how people got hooked on drugs. The craving continued because there was no sight of her. It was probably best because I didn’t know how to fix the problem anyway.
There was one thing I could fix, so I drove to Sydney’s parent’s house, eager to give her and her father a piece of my mind.
“Hey, baby! I’m so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Catherine answered the door.
“Of course.”
She wrapped her arm around mine and guided me into the family room like I didn’t know my way around.
“Look who’s here!” she announced, and Sydney turned around, the color draining from her chocolate skin.
Mrs. Catherine texted and asked if I was coming to dinner to celebrate Sydney finishing her master’s program. She didn’t know we were beefing because Sydney wasn’t that open with her parents.
“Congratulations,” I leaned in and hugged Sydney.
“Thanks,” she replied, dropping the flowers in the trash. “But you should’ve saved yourself the trouble and sent them to your girlfriend .”
“Sydney! Why are you being rude to Kenyon?”
“He’s your guest. Not mine.” A tired sadness passed over her features as she walked down the hallway.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately,” Mrs. Catherin apologized, shaking her head.
“It’s all good. I’m not paying that any mind.”
“I wish I had that talent,” she chuckled before rambling. “I just don’t get her sometimes.”
I didn’t have time to explain that she was the cause of her problems with Sydney. I strolled about, peeping my head in every room, reaching her old bedroom.
“It still looks the same,” I announced, letting myself in.
Sydney sucked her teeth, “Get out! I’m not in the mood for a trip down memory lane.”
“You didn’t have a problem with it for your Dad’s campaign, but not your favorite person.”
“ Ex -favorite person.”
My hand hit my chest with a smirk, “Ouch.”
“Get out, Kenyon. I’m not in the mood.”
I wasn’t new to Sydney’s tantrums. In fact, I was an expert. Much like Zara, she was emotion-driven, and right now, Syd was just a girl in the world without her security blanket.
“This can’t be about some pussy. So wassup?”
She turned around abruptly, trembling, “Are you really this stupid?” Sydney yelled, and I thought about cutting in with a joke to lighten the mood, but she was screaming before I could. “You’re all that I have, Kenyon. The one person in my life I know without a doubt has my back, and you picked someone else over me!”
Tears replaced the animation on her face. There were no words I could say to make her feel better. Even if they did exist, I didn’t know where to find them, so I didn’t try. Instead, I gave her a shoulder to cry on.
“My feelings for her don’t change how I feel about you, Syd.”
A laugh managed to squeeze out as she pushed away from me.
“For you to know so much about women in the bedroom, you don’t know shit outside of it.” Sydney wiped her tears, studying my brown face before rolling her eyes, “And I’ve seen you around her. You’re not giving that up, especially not for me, so get out!”
“You feel slighted, so you’re letting him play with you like a puppet?”
“My dad isn’t playing me. We talked and came to an understanding,” Sydney explained, crossing her arms and standing her ground.
I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “An understanding?” I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief. “So he’s added gay rights to his campaign platform, then?”
Her jaw tightened, but I wasn’t about to back down. We both knew John was as old-school as they came. The man could barely tolerate the idea of Sydney being bisexual, let alone embrace it.
“Fuck you!” She spat.
“Whatever Syd. Just understand my baby isn’t a fuckin’ prop to be played with for votes.”
“Your baby! I didn’t think you cared anymore. You’ve moved on and started a new life. Why can’t I?” She shot back, her voice laced with anger.
I grabbed her face, my fingers digging into her jaw. Our eyes locked while she squirmed, her mouth opened like a fish.
“You can do what the fuck you want. Just don’t play with my baby.”
Sydney shoved me in the chest as I let her go because, despite my actions, I wasn’t trying to hurt her. But if she kept testing me, I would.
“I carried her! So, I can do what I want when I want. I’m no longer your concern.”
“The things I don’t play about I don’t allow to be played with Syd. You should know that better than anybody.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked but glowered and left the room for her to figure it out.
I reached the living room, where John laughed and smiled with friends. He wanted our head on a platter, as if his hands weren’t as dirty as ours.
“Let me holla at you for a minute,” I said, signaling John to follow me outside.
He hesitated before kissing his wife and joining me on the porch.
“You’re two strikes in. I’d tread lightly if I were you.”
He smiled, standing firm in his confidence, “What are you going to do, Kenyon? You have no moves left.”
“If you wanna bet your life on that, be my guest, but stop playing with shit that belongs to me.”
I jogged down the steps, leaving him on the porch to make a difficult decision.