Page 80 of Just Like Summer

Kamilla slowly opened her eyes, finding the tall man in a safe zone of her space. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, if anything, got to make sure this little guy is good. What’s up, man, why you crying?” he posed, gently touching Kairo’s tiny hand. “You good, man?”

Kairo buried his face into Kamilla’s hair that was well past her shoulders now.

“He shy. I get it, I’m shy too.” He extended his hand to Kamilla. “Haddon Gallalucci.”

Kamilla accepted the handshake and offered a half nod. “I know who you are.”

“Oh, ‘cause of big bro?” Haddon posed, releasing her hand.

Kamilla shook her head. “Partly, but I have a habit of knowing who the people behind the board are.”

Haddon tilted his head, studying her. “You KP’s daughter?”

“Kamilla.” She tucked her bottom lip. “Yeah, you familiar?”

“Man, listen, everyone loves Jesipi the Don. And don’t get me wrong, the man was a genius but AyeZee KP, he was ahead of his time,” Haddon gushed. “I’ve studied every song but can’t get my hands on none of his stuff to sample either.”

“Yeah…I can’t come off of that,” Kamilla shared.

“I feel you. It’s a gold mine, protect that.”

“I should clean that up and get out your way,” Kamilla offered.

“Hold on. Listen, not trying impose, but you got your pops ear?” Haddon asked.

Her mind flashed to Cairo and that summer where he fueled the dormant need in her. “I’ve been told I had a golden ear once upon of time.”

“You and little man want to listen to what I’m trying to tweak?” Haddon motioned to the doorway he appeared from. He caught the weary glint in her eyes. “Don’t trip, I’ll bring my laptop up.”

Since that fateful day, Kamilla hadn’t been in a room alone with man if she could help it. Nate and Fredo were the only men she felt safe with. They’d done a wonderful job of ensuring she was protected, especially Fredo. To the point he was dictating what the hospital staff did while she was in labor.

She watched Haddon take off in the direction he appeared from. While he was gone, she grabbed the broom, balancing the son that clung to her like koala bear and swept up the glass from the floor. She only paused to readjust him. The fright of escaping from his playpen and running into the end table moved up his nap time.

“Aight, listen to this,” Haddon spoke, trading the laptop for the broom.

Kamilla hit the space bar and listened to the beat he was building. A hip hop track with a very decent Ganton Hills sound. The horns added on top the bass wasn’t enough to make her frown her mouth and bob her head. Hitting the space bar, she watched as he dumped the glass in the trash bag and wait for her feedback.

“What you think, Golden Ear?”

“It’s good,” she buzzed, swaying Kairo into his nap. “But the horns are over powering the kick. You should bring the horns in first then build the drums so it blends and balances.”

Haddon came back to the back of the couch where Kamilla placed the laptop. She watched him hit keys, rearrange the arrangements like Cairo used to once she offered her feedback. The experience alone made her hold on to the gift he left her to cling to. Once Haddon made the changes, he hit the space bar and looked at her. He wanted a reaction, one she wouldn’t give him. All Kamilla offered him was a snap of the fingers.

“That’s it?” he questioned, a smile growing over his face.

“That’s it,” she confirmed, moving away.

Kairo, who’d been trained to fall asleep to his father and grandfather’s music was knocked out. Kamilla laid him down in his playpen, turned the iPad off and went back to cleaning the kitchen. Haddon was still standing in the living room.

“Why are you cleaning houses and not using that gift?” he inquired.

Kamilla continued wiping down the counter, answering him, “Because I have a kid. Using my gift or chasing a dream is expensive and I can’t afford to steal the moon.”

Haddon slightly nodded his head. That was a particular phrase only heard in two places. He chalked it up to her reciting her father’s lyrics. “So if I were to tell you El Jefe had an internship, paid, and childcare and I could get you into the last round, what you’d say to that?”

“I’d ask what’s the gimmick? Clearly there’s other people who’ve worked harder than me for their spot, cutting the line seems unfair.”