“I know you’re not desperate, but I thought . . .”
He let his words trail off.
“You thought you’d found a poor girl you could wave your money and lifestyle in front of and she’d do whatever you wanted.”
“No.”
“What did you think, Kenzo, because that’s exactly what it seems like?”
His expression was one of defeat as he tried to come up with a response that made sense.
“I thought we made a connection, but if I was wrong, that’s cool.”
“A connection doesn’t equate to marriage in less than twenty-four hours. Do you hear yourself?”
“My bad. You’re right. Pretend this conversation never happened. Do you want to finish our walk and grab something to eat?”
“Pretending this conversation didn’t happen is impossible, but we can finish our walk as long as you don’t plan to kidnap me and force me to marry you.”
“Oh, you got jokes, I see.”
“Tuh! Who’s joking?”
He stood first and extended his hand to help me to my feet. Our hands remained connected as we walked in silence, and for some reason, it felt comfortable when it should’ve felt weird. When we made it to his car, he opened the door for me like always.
“You’re not afraid of being kidnapped, or you’d be running in the opposite direction and screaming for help. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, and I hope you continue to allow me to help you,” he said when he got into the car.
“I appreciate?—”
My phone rang, interrupting me. The screen showed an unknown number, which I usually ignored, but something told me to answer it.
“This is Malyah,” I said after switching the phone to speaker.
“You need to come and get your shit if you don’t want it out on the street.”
“Hello?”
“This is Janie, bitch. I got another roommate, and she’s moving in tomorrow. You need to come get your shit, or it will be on the curb.”
Before I could respond, she ended the call, and I sat there in disbelief for a moment. Releasing a deep breath, I dropped myphone into my lap and let my head fall back on the headrest. I felt . . . defeated.
After a few minutes of silence, Kenzo asked, “How can I help?”
With her headstill on the headrest, she let it fall to the left and looked at me. Her eyes said more than her mouth would, and they told me that she was on the verge of giving up.
“I want to help you, baby, but I need you to tell me what you want.”
“If she puts my stuff on the curb, it’ll be gone in five minutes. I’ll have to start all over when I get my own place. I don’t have a lot, but what I have is nice, and it’s mine.”
“Let’s go get it.”
She sat and looked at me as if I were dumb.
“And do what with it? Put it on the roof of your car and bring it all back to the hotel?”
“No, but we can get a moving truck and rent a storage unit.”
“How much do you think that will cost? My money?—”
