Chapter Sixteen
Jonathan
“Come on, Anthony. Puff, puff, pass—you know the deal,” I said lazily as we huddled around a joint. He coughed and cleared his throat.
“How the hell are you gonna tell me how to get high off my own supply?” he replied. His voice had dropped a few octaves with a slight raspiness from the smoke.
“Usually, I wouldn’t, but this is supposed to be my pick-me-up after finding out I have to put my father on hospice.”
“I’m sorry, Jon. You’re right,” he said, passing me the joint.
“Thank you,” I whispered, trying to hide the emotion in my voice.
Earlier, I’d gone for my bi-weekly visit to find my mother by my father’s side, chatting away.
He was utterly unresponsive, and according to the social worker, he was barely eating.
It’d be a matter of time before I’d have to lay my father to rest. It was a mental blow to see such a strong, capable man, whom, at specific points in my life, I feared but respected, be reduced to adult diapers and baby food.
“He held on long enough to see Turk, so I’m grateful for that,” I said before taking a drag.
Anthony chuckled and leaned against the brick wall. “His mean ass was always fond of Kiyah. Sorry to tell you, but she was his favorite grandchild.”
“Hm,” I hummed in acknowledgment while I smoked my share. I inhaled sharply and held the smoke as long as my lungs could before exhaling slowly. “He once claimed she didn’t waste his rounds like the others. It’s a shame they never went on that African safari,” I said with a dejected sigh.
“I’m not much of a hunter, but that would’ve been a badass graduation present.”
I shook my head. “Sometimes, I wonder where I went wrong with them. Do you think I was too involved?”
“Slow down. I need a moment to catch up.”
I rolled my eyes.
“All right. Now that my brain has finally made its arrival, what was that shit you were saying?”
I passed the joint back to him. “Was I too involved as a parent? On paper, my children, God, they’re amazing, but I realize that maybe my father was onto something.”
“That gentle parenting bullshit did not work. Mine turned out marginally better than yours, but only because Simone was locked and loaded with the slipper.”
“Never mind, I’m fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up. Your father is actively dying, and now you’re reflecting on your life, wondering if you made the right calls and if the family and legacy that you created will hold up after you’re gone.”
I smirked. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about it.”
Anthony shrugged. “We’re approaching sixty—our days are numbered. I’d be a fool not to think about it.”
“We have a good—”
“I don’t want to hear that ‘we have a good twenty years left in us’ bullshit.”
“I’ll shut up then.”
“The kids are fine-ish.” I raised a brow, or at least I think I did.
I couldn’t feel my face, and for all I knew, it could still be resting at ease.
“I raised a successful finance bro.” I doubled over and laughed with my hands on my knees until I could barely breathe.
“This is why I don’t like smoking with you—you turn into the giggle factory.
Get yourself together and act like you have some decorum, Warner. ”
“Okay, Felicity,” I replied, straightening myself up.
“I did sound like her, didn’t I?”
“You did. But please continue.”
“As I said, I raised Nori to be a successful finance gentlewoman who is killing it in the investment game, and she’s getting married in two days, as long as Daisy acts right and there are no additional hiccups. The other….”
He trailed off.
“The other, what?” I encouraged.
“I don’t fucking know. I don’t have anything. I love him, but—”
“But negates everything before it.”
“I love him; however—”
“That’s actually worse, in my opinion.”
“I’m convinced the boy’s brain is made up of 78% creatine.”
I snorted. “Jesus.”
“What’s that word people use to describe a handsome man whose elevator doesn’t reach the top floor?”
I paused to think. “Himbo.”
“That’s it. The boy is a himbo. How much do you want to bet if we return to the hall that that boy is shimmying? You spend all that money on an education for the motherfucker to learn to dance and lift weights on camera for a living.”
“Anthony, you’re being harsh. You’re just a bitter old man because your knees went out nearly thirty years ago. You couldn’t shimmy to save your life.”
“My knees were taken from me,” he corrected bluntly. I put my hands up in submission.
“You’re right. Thank you. You’re still bitter because Ronan didn’t follow in your footsteps and join Delta Sigma Phi.”
“When he mentioned rushing, I thought, great, and suggested Delta Sig. Do you know what this little boy told me?” Anthony asked, scooting closer to drive his point home.
I did know what Ronan told him, but I wanted to hear it again.
“No; remind me.”
“That little boy told me that there was no way in hell he was joining Kappa Kappa Kappa! I’m offended.”
“Lower your voice—there’s no need to yell.”
“I’m whispering.”
“You think you are, but you’re not, and your offense is your problem. I wasn’t offended when Kieran joined Kappa Alpha Psi. Take yourself out of the equation and ask yourself why your biracial son would prefer to be in a brotherhood with Black men than white men.”
“I get it. I understand, but Kappa Kappa Kappa?”
“That’s what it probably looked like to them.
Plus, you know it hasn’t always been smooth sailing for them growing up.
There were racial incidents we had to deal with in school, and if I’m being honest, I’m glad they landed where they did.
They were happy and safe amongst their peers.
Casey joined Delta Sig and look how that turned out.
He was kicked out for having revenge sex with the President’s mother. ”
“That boy is something else,” Anthony said with a tsking noise.
“Tell me about it. I talk to him often about sexual discipline, and it goes in one ear and out the other. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has children out there somewhere he doesn’t know about.” Silence fell between us as we finished the joint. “I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“About what?”
“The talk I must have with Kiyah on Sunday.”
“It is what it is.”
“How do you tell your child that you’re cutting them off financially?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done it myself, but I have a feeling Kiyah will land on her feet.”
“You think so?” I asked incredulously.
“Oh, I know so,” Anthony said, sounding so sure of himself.
“You’re right. Kiyah can be resourceful when she wants to be.”
“Mhm.”
“There she is now,” I said, watching her walk across the parking lot. I was about to leave our hiding spot when I noticed Grant racing behind her and paused. I felt Anthony’s hand on my arm, and my back hit the wall as he tugged me back into the shadows.
I feel slimy for spying on my children, but then again, they’re so secretive. And I need to know once and for all whether my suspicions are correct.
My heart thudded in my chest as Grant and Kiyah rounded his truck, preventing them from being seen from the front entrance; however, Anthony and I had a perfect view of them from our hiding spot.
“Here… you’re going to need this.”
I looked to my right and found Anthony offering me another lit joint.
He knows something, and it’ll be wise if I prepare myself for the worst. My children are involved in a secret love affair. There… I said it.
Instead of confronting him, I silently accepted it and waited for the fireworks.
“Kiyah,” Grant’s voice thundered with authority. “Let’s talk about it.”
My vision wasn’t what it used to be, but I knew from her stance with a hand perched on her hip like her mother that she rolled her eyes at him.
“Yes, let’s talk so you can lie in my face some more. I’m all fucking ears, Maxwell.”
“Shit,” Anthony and I whispered.
“She called him Maxwell. That’s not good,” he mumbled.
“Not good at all,” I replied as I watched the scene unfold like some dramatic soap opera.
“Kiyah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. I didn’t want any drama over some blacked-out one-night stand I had years ago.”
“Okay, fuck you for making me seem unreasonable.”
“I’m not making you out to be unreasonable; I just want to get through the weekend so we can get on with our lives,” he argued.
“Let me put things in perspective for you, Grant. You’re trying to convince me to stay and give our marriage a chance, and you think lying is the way to go?”
Marriage? What the hell does she mean… marriage?
Black spots clouded my vision, and my chest tightened.
“Whoa, Jonathan. Take a deep breath,” Anthony said, shoving my head down. I inhaled and exhaled deeply until the muscles in my chest unclenched.
“How long have you known?” I asked softly.
“Jon—”
“How long have you known?” I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Not long. Simone and I were in Austin doing some last-minute shopping today and ran into them. They were clearly involved. We spoke with them, and they confessed that they were married.”
“How long?”
“Jon—”
“How long?”
Anthony sighed, and I pictured him scrubbing his hands across his face in frustration. “I don’t know, man.”
“You’re lying,” I accused, bringing myself back up. “Tell me the truth, or our friendship is over.”
He snorted and plucked the joint from my fingers.
“Let me get this straight. Instead of marching over there and demanding answers from your adult children, you would end our friendship? I told you to check your children years ago, but you wouldn’t listen.
Don’t take your inaction out on me. I did my fucking part. ”
I’m being unreasonable. It’s my fault that I turned a blind eye for all these years.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized.
“You’re forgiven.” I chuckled ruefully as the pieces started putting themselves together. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Y-you thought Grant was asexual, and the whole time, he was involved in a secret marriage with his stepsister.”
“If you look on the bright side, they’re not biologically related.”
“I guess that’s one for the win column.”
We fell silent as we continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Kiyah, I’m sorry. I panicked and made a bad judgment call. Please forgive me.”
Kiyah looked at Grant as if she considered forgiving him for his transgressions. “No,” she said, fumbling with her clutch.
“Damn. She’s cold-blooded,” Anthony laughed.
I shook my head. “Don’t fall for it. Kierra does the same thing. Kiyah wants Grant to grovel a little.”
“Grovel a little? That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I confirmed.
“Simone damn near makes me nail myself to the cross to earn her forgiveness,” Anthony complained.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I kid you not. The last time we got into it, the woman didn’t talk to me for three weeks—twenty-one days.”
“Are you referring to the time you faked a heart attack to get out of a function?”
“To be fair….”
“Don’t,” I said, cutting him off.
“It was so fucking boring, Jon. You had to be there to believe it. I’d nodded off five times and finally gave in. To be fair, I didn’t say I was having a heart attack.”
“You grabbed your arm and started hissing and wincing like you were in pain,” I reminded him.
“I was in pain from when the ball whacked me in the arm when we played tennis earlier that day. I had the bruise to prove it.”
“And Simone proved she wasn’t putting up with your bullshit.”
“She’s so cruel. I had to live with Ronan for three weeks. I almost strangled the boy Homer Simpson-style several times.”
“You didn’t have to stay with Ronan. You could’ve stayed in a hotel.”
“Mhm. I see your elevator is jammed between floors nine and ten. There was no way in hell I was staying in a hotel for her to accuse me of cheating. I wanted someone to keep an eye on me at all times. I could’ve crashed with you guys, but Simone knows Ronan would never lie to save my ass.”
I shrugged. “Maybe if you were kinder to your son, you wouldn’t have those issues.”
“Let’s not get on the topic of sons when yours is currently on his knees in a parking lot in front of his stepsister, who he’s been secretly married to for years.”
My attention returned to the forbidden couple.
Oh, come on, Grant. Have some fucking dignity, at least.
“Come clean, Ant. How long have they been married?”
“Let’s just say they should’ve gifted each other something copper or wool for their anniversary.”
“Why do you have to be so damn cryptic?” I snapped, opening the search browser on my phone. I typed “copper and wool anniversary” and waited for the response to populate.
“I’m not a snitch.”
“Seven years? That’s almost a decade,” I whispered harshly. “What am I going to tell Kierra?”
“Don’t tell Kierra anything, and hold those two accountable—after the wedding, of course.”
“All you care about is this damn wedding,” I snapped.
“You should care more than me since you’re footing the bill.”
“Which is bullshit because you claim that Daisy is the bride. Newsflash, Ant; they’re both the brides, and I’m sending you a bill for half of the wedding expenses.”
“Oh, God. We gotta get the hell out of here,” Anthony said, discarding the roach. “Where the fuck is my cane? Fuck it,” Anthony said before hobbling out of the bushes.
I looked up and nearly fainted when Grant eased the skirt of Kiyah’s dress up her legs to her hips.
That’s why he was getting on his knees….
I raced out of the bushes behind Anthony and quickly passed him up. By the time I reached the bar, I was panting and a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
“What can I get for you, sir?”
“Bourbon double shot—four of them.”
I drummed my fingers impatiently on the counter as I waited for the bartender to pour the shots.
“Y-you’re an asshole,” Anthony huffed, arriving just in time for the shots. I slid one to him, and we clinked our glasses before downing them. We took our second shots, and I motioned to the bartender for another round. “I forgive you,” Anthony said once he finally recovered from his sprint.
“You know what makes all of this so difficult?”
“What?”
“I could wrap my head around their relationship if I were convinced they were right for one another, but it’s clear they’re not. They don’t believe enough in their love to share it with their family and friends, and Kiyah’s prolonged absence speaks volumes.”
Anthony sighed heavily and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We shouldn’t discount how they feel about each other. You weren’t there earlier when they confessed. Is their relationship rocky? Yes, but they haven’t given up on each other.”
I snorted and accepted another shot from the bartender. “That’s the problem. Maybe they should.”