But life hadn’t slowed down. Between Monroe, business, and everything else pulling at him, his schedule stayed packed; he didn’t know how he was going to add her to it, but he had to. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her.
Starting tomorrow, avoiding each other wasn’t an option. And he planned to use that to his advantage. He’d prove himself in the margins, between meetings and work obligations, show her he wasn’t whatever version she’d built up in her head.
She could run all she wanted before. But now? She was on his turf. And she couldn’t outrun him.
He may have left SBB, but you were never really gone. Access still existed out of respect; if he wanted to put the word out to hit his line if she was spotted, it was what would happen. If he wanted the word out that she was off limits, it would be done before sunrise. He wanted to. But Kennedi wasn’t property. She was grown. Steel-spined. Even if he’d turned her to putty a few times.
“Shit,” he fussed, thinking about that night as he got out of the car.
His phone lit up in his palm as he walked through the front door. Two notifications: one from Kennedi, her name glowing across the screen. About time. He knew that showing up at her parents’ house and forcing her hand would mean she would understand that texting him back was a must. That’s how it was supposed to work—he pushed, she responded.
Simple.
And he didn’t give a fuck about it.
Kennedi: I like the chase, remember?
A slow grin spread across his face. Of course she did. That was the problem. She liked the tension. The game. The way he applied pressure and then eased up enough to make her feel in control.
His phone buzzed again.
The second was from the facility. Robin’s weekly call was scheduled for five minutes from now.
He dropped onto his couch, loosened his chain, and waited. When the automated voice announced the call, he accepted without hesitation.
“What’s good, big bro?”
“Shit, you tell me. How are you holding up in there?”
“Same shit, different day. But I ain’t call to talk about me. I heard some interesting shit through the grapevine.”
Rolani’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah? What you hear?”
“Nigga, I heard the baddie from Velvet back in town.”
“How you know about Velvet? Nigga that was months ago.”
Rolani couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “News must travel slow with you slaw ass, gossiping ass niggas. Don’t yall got some noodles to concoct?”
“That’s cold. Nigga, you know how it is. Everybody got eyes, and everybody talks. Especially niggas in jail and the pillow talking hoes that love em’.” Robin laughed, but there was genuine curiosity underneath. “So who is she? And what Tahlia bird ass gon say?”
“Fuck Tahlia. It ain’t fucked with that girl in months. And y’all niggas need to mind y’all business. Not y’all living vicariously through bitches at the club.”
“Fuck you nigga. I will when you do.” Robin’s tone shifted slightly, more serious now. “But for real though, you keeping this one tucked I see.”
Rolani leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “I met her in LA. At G’s premiere. Her name’s Kennedi. I ain’t got much more to tell than that because she got me fucked up.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Kennedi... that the one you put on the Luther tab?”
“Yeah, she loves Luther’s. I had to come through on that.”
“That’s what’s up. You being careful though?”
“It ain’t like that,” Rolani cut in. “This is different. She’s different.”
“Different how? I hate when niggas say that.”
Rolani sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Man, yo jaded ass. She’s different because she doesn’t need anything from me. Got her own career, her own money, come from good people. Smartas hell, independent—” He paused. “And the body—. I fuck with her.”
