Adored by a Brooklyn Drug Lord 2 Page 4

  4

  Kelsey

  Normani was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when we arrived home. Her hair was laid, she was fully dressed in a pair of form fitting jeans with a white turtleneck, flawless makeup topping off the look. Sade was bumping through the speakers, keeping Normani company as she swayed her hips to the beat, holding a decent note. Daddy crept up behind her, placing his hands on her waist, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. He whispered something in her ear and she swatted at his chest with the dish rag in her hand. Maneuvering from his hold, she came over to me, kissing me on the cheek and asking me how I was doing. I told her the truth, that I was tired, to which she suggested I get comfortable and she would bring me breakfast in bed. Daddy took a seat at the kitchen island, shamelessly listening in on our conversation. On a regular day I would put up a fight, but Quill's entire situation had me messed up. I trudged upstairs to my bedroom, bag in hand, and worked on getting my mind right underneath my three shower jets.

  “Ugh, yes,” I said as the steaming hot beads of shower water hit my body.

  I washed off the morning, starting with my hair and working my way down my body, using some of my favorite lavender vanilla body scrubs. Quill and all of his drama went right down the drain, leaving me with a brand new slate for the day. A hearty breakfast consisting of an omelet, eggs, bacon, and hash browns sat on my bed on a warming tray, a glass of orange juice and a bowl of fruit right beside it. I wolfed down everything and was popping the last grape into my mouth when Normani poked her head in. I beckoned for her to have a seat. She took one at the foot of the bed, stretching her small frame across the bottom.

  “Your father gave me the rundown on what happened at the hospital. Kelsey, honey, if you need to talk—”

  I gave a vehement shake of my head. “I'm done with Quill and his drama. He won't have to worry about me ever again.” Sinking into the mountain of pillows at the head of my bed, I added, “While we’re on the subject of jumping into people’s business, are you going to tell me what's going on with you and my father?”

  Normani tried to laugh off my question, and when it wasn’t working she face planted into my comforter. “Kelsey, your father and I are…fine,” I made out through her muffled reply.

  “How do you expect me to open up to you when you're lying to me? Normani, what is going on? You haven’t been yourself. Tell me: are you and my father going to get a divorce?”

  Her head popped up with the quickness. “Divorce? No, our marriage isn't perfect, but we haven’t gotten to that point.”

  “Yet.”

  “Kelsey…”

  I crossed my arms. “If you want me to be real with you, then you need to be real with me.”

  Normani rolled over to me, sitting up and taking my hands into hers. “I wanted to tell you when you came for your birthday, but your father didn’t want to make you feel obligated to stay. Your father and I are expecting.”

  “What!” I leapt onto Normani, hugging her tight as I rolled us around my bed screaming with glee. “Why would you not tell me! This would have been the best birthday present ever. How far along are you? When are we going baby shopping? Can I be in charge of the middle name?”

  “Kelsey, you keep rolling me around this bed, and I'm going to have a scrambled egg,” Normani laughed, sighing in relief as I climbed off of her. “I'm four months. The reason why we didn’t want to tell you was because we’ve been having trouble conceiving. I spend every night praying this one makes it.”

  I laid down beside her. “How many have there been?”

  “Two. The first time I found out I was pregnant we were so excited. You should've seen Urban, taking all these measurements, ordering swatches of paint for the suite he wanted to build next to our bedroom.” She wiped the tears rolling down the sides of her face, getting lost in her hair. “I went to my twelve-week checkup and everything was fine; the baby’s heartbeat was strong. Urban was out of town and due in that same night. He found me in the bathroom, laid out covered in so much blood… The second time was just as bad.”

  “Normani…” I gasped, embracing her. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it isn't your job to make sure I'm good. You have your own life to live, Kelsey. I wouldn’t feel right weighing you down, especially since you don’t like it here.”

  Her words stung, but I couldn’t find it in me to rebut her statement due to it being partially true. “I don’t like coming home for my own personal reasons, but that doesn’t mean I'm not willing to come home to make sure you're good. I still love all of you. Don’t ever think you're weighing me down, not with you being one of the few people to have my back during the darkest time of my life.”

  We spent the next hour talking, not about the banal shit we discussed during my birthday trip. I let my wall down and we moved from Morris’s infidelity, my issues with Samira, and my long-standing battle with anxiety. Normani was one of the few people who could relate; she came to Brooklyn for a do-over herself. Out of my entire family, she was the one to convince my father to let me move to DC full time. I wish I could tell her what happened while I was being held by the Jinetes, but I knew she would tell my father, who would go after their entire lineage if he had to. If there were any left. Our conversation wrapped as the sun went down, ending with a knock on the door for us to get ready for dinner at my grandmother’s house. One hour later, we were seated at her dinner table, sharing our week over a spread of delicious food.

  “I told you that boy had hoe eyes,” Granny said as she fixed herself a third helping of collard greens with her famous potato salad. “While you're here, Grandmother is going to teach you how to spot a man’s inner hoe. Save you a lot of time and heartbreak.”

  “Or she can let me hook her up with someone,” Daddy piped up. “I’ve taken this young brotha from my alma mater on as my mentee. He's halfway done with his MBA, comes from a good family, and is in church every Sunday. No one will ever be good enough for my Kelsey, but Wesley comes in as a strong contender.”

  The thought of dating a man my father approved of felt like an instant dub. “Daddy, he's likely petrified of you, and the last thing I want is to date someone who reports to my father. I’ll take Granny’s Inner Hoe Masterclass before I let you arrange a marriage for me.”

  “I know that’s right,” Granny cosigned, giving me a high-five. “Have you dating someone whose name matches yours. Kelsey, Wesley, and baby Parsley. Absolutely not.”

  Normani, who was laughing so hard she was shaking, snorted, causing Daddy to see that he was outnumbered. “Normani,” he said, appalled. “You met Wesley. You said he was a nice young man. Now you're on their side?”

  “Baby, Wesley is a nice boy, and he will make some woman very happy one day, but that woman isn't Kelsey. For starters, she's taller than him.”

  Granny cocked her head to the side. “Oh, so you're trying to have my grandbaby falling in love with some little man?”

  “Daddy…”

  “And,” Normani continued, “that sweet boy has a lazy eye.”

  “Uriah!” Granny shouted the same time I yelped, “Daddy!”

  Daddy held his hands up. “He can get that fixed once I offer him a permanent position. We have excellent healthcare. Besides, it shouldn’t matter what he looks like on the outside; a good man who worships the ground you walk on should be the first requirement on your list.”

  “It is,” I said, though I didn’t quite believe it.

  “Then explain to me why you keep getting with these little pretty boys who refuse to commit to you because they still wanna chase skirts?” Daddy thought he had me, and went back to eating his food.

  Thinking of Peace, I countered, “Maybe I'm not dating the wrong type. What if need to date someone…older?”

  Normani tipped her wine glass filled with grape juice toward me, earning a look from my father. “What? She's right. Instead of fucking with all these little boys who don’t know what they want, Kelsey should meet a guy who’s a litt
le older than she is. I'm thinking twenty-five, twenty-seven tops.”

  “Absolutely not,” Daddy replied, wiping his mouth and tossing the linen napkin on his plate, shaking his head the entire time. “Kelsey can peep the game on these young boys her age. I'm not letting no seasoned nigga have my daughter turned out.”

  I thought of the grad school guys who shamelessly came on to me during my freshman year. Age had nothing to do with getting played; falling for some weak ass game did. I had my lips ready to let him know as much when Albert spoke up. He was reserved by nature, but he never missed a beat, and tonight was no different.

  “Uriah, the very thing you try to repel her from will only smell sweeter. The best life lessons I've learned came from stepping into the fire after being told not to play with matches. Words will never leave the lasting marks that experience will. Let her follow her heart, give her the nutrients to protect it, and be there to help mend the pieces if it breaks.”

  The table was silent. For the first time in my living memory, my combative father was stunned to silence. Normani placed her chin on his shoulder, planting a tentative kiss on his cheek as if to comfort him for losing this battle. Too bad Granny and I didn’t possess that much tact. I did the cabbage patch as she jumped out of her seat hollering, “That’s my man! Teach ‘em, baby, these youngins think they know everything, but they don’t!” Our victory chants continued as we cleared the table while Normani took Daddy to the living room to lick his wounds, Albert trailing behind the pair, clapping Daddy on his back.

  “So…what's his name?” Granny asked over the dishes.

  I slowed my scrubbing on a pot. “Who?”

  “Kelsey Mackenzie, do not play your grandmother for a fool. Who is the new man that has you clearing a path for him? This stays between the two of us. How old is he?”

  Considering Peace’s lengthy rap sheet and the prejudgment he received from Samira, I held back on Googling him. “I don’t know, but I know he's definitely older than twenty-seven.”

  “Girl, my first was a grown ass man. I'm talking halfway to retirement grown. This was before I met your great grandfather. He taught me a lot, and he loved me plenty. Our time together was short, but memorable. I’ll never forget him.”

  I stopped scrubbing, dropping the pot back into the sink. “Did he die?”

  “Hell no!” Granny let out a hearty chuckle. “His wife came around trying to beat my ass. She pulled a gun on me, screaming that she was sick of him fucking around with these young girls while she was at home taking care of his kids. I saw my short life flash before my eyes, and started praying to every deity I could think of. My prayers were answered shortly after. A boy a little older than I was stepped in front of me, telling her if she laid a hand on his girlfriend she would have to answer to him. He was one of the most notorious men on the block, and could take out her entire family with a snap of his fingers.”

  “Was that man my great grandfather?”

  Granny nodded. “Ulysses Sr. had been chasing me for the longest. I kept turning him down because I felt like I was too grown for him. He proved me wrong that day. From that moment on, I was hooked on him. Never loved another man until now.”

  “Granny, was this your way of telling me to stick to boys my own age?”

  She scoffed. “Absolutely not. This was my way of telling you that regardless of their age, all of these dogs have some tricks. Find the one who only wants to hump your leg for life.”

  I couldn’t argue with that logic.

  __________

  Granny’s words sat with me for the rest of the night. To be honest, I was happy for her to bring me back to reality. Thinking my situation would be different with Peace because he was seasoned was a green mistake to make. He wasn’t infallible, quite the opposite, and treating him as such would’ve placed me in an awkward position. I was done with thinking he was this perfect specimen that would fix the pain I had been walking around with. The only person who could do that was—

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be up this late,” Peace said in that husky voice of his. “Although I'm flattered to know you're thinking about me before you rest your eyes.”

  I could picture him lying on his back, sleeping between some silk sheets wearing nothing but… “I'm not in bed,” I lied, feeling my cheeks heat up at the freaky place my mind drifted to for a second. “I didn’t think you were either. It’s only midnight. I'm sure you want to get out there and have some fun after being locked up so long.”

  “Nah, little lady, the club scene ain’t my schtick. Niggas don’t go out to have fun anymore; it’s become a pointless competition. Everyone wants to wear the best clothes, buy the largest bottles of liquor, pose for the camera, and look miserable after,” Peace analyzed. “During my time, you went out to have a good time. Of course the flashy clothes and jewelry still existed, but you did it for you…and to get the attention of a girl you were interested in. Today’s youth will never know that feeling.”

  This was the opening I was looking for. “Exactly when was your ‘time’? Early nineties, eighties, please stop me before you tell me you were marching with Malcolm X…”

  Peace chuckled. “Is this your way of asking me how old I am, little lady?”

  “Yes,” I admitted, “it is.”

  “Age is a sensitive subject. I do have my reservations for entertaining someone so young, but there’s something about you Kelsey. You got me doing a lot of things that are completely out of my character.” He paused for a beat. “I’m thirty-three. I’ll be thirty-four this year.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, to which he laughed. “I’m sorry, but if you were older than my uncle I wasn’t too sure if I could continue talking to you. You’re not though, so I guess now you can tell me what things I have you doing that are ‘out of character.’”

  “For starters: jonesing on the phone like I’m back in high school. I’ve turned around and got my feet in the headboard, comfortable as fuck messing around with you.”

  My heart did this strange little flutter kick, knocking the breath out of me. I disguised it with a laugh. “I’m over here twirling one of my twists around my fingers. I can’t tell you the last time I was on the phone talking just to talk.”

  “You broke up with your boyfriend two days ago. You mean to tell me he never called you just because?”

  A second of circumspection was all I needed. “Morris is good for stopping by if he wants to see me. He’ll FaceTime when he’s visiting his family, but I’ve never had ‘the talk’ over the phone. You know, when you ask each other any and everything.”

  “Sounds like he didn’t move you to have that conversation with him,” Peace noted. “You were hurt by the way he messed around on you, but did you honestly love him, or was he a placeholder for when someone you truly want comes along?”

  “Honestly?” I said more to him than myself. “I think part of me was holding on to the idea that I would be able to—”

  I stopped myself before Quill’s name could roll off my tongue and make me mad all over again. No, Peace didn’t need to become my emotional sounding board. I had opened up to him more than I did with any man, and I had a feeling the more baggage I showed up with, the likelier chance that he would walk away. My feelings for him had intensified since that day in the bathroom, to the point where I knew losing him would hurt more than catching Morris fucking his peer.

  “Able to what?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “That I would be able to learn to love him,” I lied, which was better than admitting that I considered reconciling with Quill. “Morris came into my life when I really needed reassurance that I could open myself up to the possibility of loving again. That the wall I had built up would come down.”

  “I think you kept that wall up for a good reason, and anyone willing to tear it down had to do so with good reason. Don’t feel bad for holding yourself to a higher esteem, Kelsey; it’ll keep away those who aren't up to standard.”

  Peace was right; I fa
ulted myself for the destruction of my friendships, blaming myself for my inability to open up when self-preservation was at play. Samira was a good friend to me, one of the best I ever had, but if her image was more important to her than I was, maybe I didn’t need to tell her all of my business. Morris played the role of the supportive boyfriend, except his definition of supportive didn’t include loyalty. I never had to worry about getting anything other than real with Peace, which explained our connection. I opened my mouth to agree with him, and was cut off by a large growl emitting from my stomach, loud enough for Peace to hear.

  “What was that?”

  I slapped myself on the forehead. “A reminder that I'm not in DC. I'm used to eating a midnight snack.”

  “You're not in town?”

  “Nope, I came home for a family emergency; everything’s fine now. I’ll be back home in a few days,” I replied, slipping out of bed and into my robe so I could grab some snacks from the fridge. “You mind if I give you a call back in a few? My father has ears like a bat; I wouldn’t put it past him to try and talk with you.”

  There was that sexy laugh of his. “Aight, little lady. I’ll be waiting on your call…”

  I stuck my phone into my robe pocket as I slipped out of my bedroom, tip-toeing down the hall on bare feet. The kitchen was empty as expected. I raided the fridge for a bottle of pink grapefruit Ting, a slice of homemade coconut cake, and warmed up my to-go plate from dinner. As I snuck upstairs holding my haul, the sound of raised voices perked my ears. What could they be arguing about? I thought as I continued past my bedroom and up the next level of flights where Daddy and Normani's room was located. They must have underestimated how far their shouting match would travel because the second I hit the landing, everything was magnified, including the topic of the argument.