Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1) (15 page)

Her eyes lifted to me again. “Yeah, but that would’ve really made me a high-risk teen. I had Ky when I was nineteen.” She giggled shy-like. Her chin jerked in the air. “How old?”   

“Only a year older than you.”

“Get out of here!” she cackled at first, exposing her beautifully straightened teeth. They were aligned and white. When she saw the face I held, she sobered. “No! Really?”

I nodded slowly.

“I just thought because…” With her hazel eyes, she gestured around the room. “This house and the way you carry yourself… so low key and mature—other than when you’re playing with my six year old—that you were older.”

Still holding a blank expression, I leaned against the wall. “I explained the crib. As far as being low key, it comes with reason, but I guess you can say I’m a loner…and good with it.”

“You weren’t a loner tonight, going out on a date, and all.”

And there was that sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

I squinted, tossing my chin in the air. “I thought you said it was a party earlier.” She didn’t respond, but the spread of a grin told me she knew she was busted. “If you wanna know if I have a girl, you should just ask.”

She twisted her lips, while smiling from her eyes like she didn’t trust me. Then she lifted to stand from the floor.

“I’d rather feed you my three herb chicken.” She strained on the way up. “I could hear your stomach growling.

My brow shot up.

I wiped my mouth. “That was good, Jade. Bangin’ for real.” I chewed the last of the chicken breast and fresh string beans.

Thirty minutes later, I was changed and down in the kitchen, cleaning my plate. She really put it down. Jade nodded from across the island with her head in her hand. Her smug grin couldn’t be missed.

“I’m good for something other than losing my apartment and being between real jobs.” Her lashes fluttered, but I now understood that happened when she felt inferior or embarrassed. There was no hint of charm in that act.

“Or cleaning an empty house.”

“A
big
empty house,” she shot back.

“You don’t get any help with Kyree?
If you don’t mind me asking
,” I clarified with my hands in the air.

Jade shrugged, mouth twisting against her smile, and her eyes below on the island.

“Not as of late. I’ve been super mom.”

“Does he see his dad?” I wondered about how all of a sudden weeks ago, Kyree started wildin’ out, out of nowhere. I wondered how he managed that before the lights getting cut off.

“He hasn’t in a few months, actually.”

“Does he want to?”

“All the time,” she answered right away, her voice low, cautious.

“But you don’t want him to?” Jade shook her head. My face wrinkled, trying to understand. “Because he doesn’t provide for him?”

She shook her head again. “You know the only way I can get you to converse with interest is if it concerns Kyree.”

“Are you calling me a perv on the low?”

“I’ve ruled that out,” she shared with a straight face.

My eyes went wild then I recouped. “Oh, a’ight. Well, now that you know I don’t get off on little boys, I guess I can explain how the little homie reminds me a lot of myself.”

She inched into the table, clearly interested in what I had to say. “How so?”

“When I played ball as a kid, a little older than him, I played with motives deeper than just winning.”

“Like what?”

“To prove to someone I could be good at something.” I shrugged. “And other times to escape what was happening on the outside.”

She dropped her chin. “Like at home?” Her tone was suspicious.

I chuckled, sensing her apprehension. She thought I was accusing her of being a bad mother. “I’m not going social worker on you. I’m just telling you what I see and why I like the kid. And I especially want you to know I’m no perv—”

An alarm went off in my head. Thinking of deviant personality traits reminded me of something.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Shit…” I mumbled. “I just remembered I got a paper due…” I checked the time. Thirty minutes before midnight. I pushed from the island. “Thanks for this. I’ll clean up my mess.”

I jumped up to leave the kitchen until I hit the entrance and heard her call out from behind me.

“Wait!” She sat up from the countertop. “A paper? Are you in school?”

A sheepish grin split on my face at that slip.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Really? Where?”

“Nothing as fancy as the one you go to.”

“That’s not cool.” She frowned.

I tapped the doorway. “Bergen County College. Like I said, no biggie.”

Before I could step off, she countered, “It is to me.” With a dry smile she offered, “Good for you.” 

That morsel of approval from a ballsy petite one did something to me.

One night, after cleaning the kitchen, I went searching for Kyree to start his bedtime ritual. It was the end of a long day of endless clients at both salons. I had a five-page paper to submit by midnight and hadn’t typed a word of it yet. I sighed, taking off for the back staircase. As I jogged up the steps, I heard Silentó’s “Watch Me.” The tune instantly jumped my spirits in a jovial sphere because, just as it was with every other kid in the country, it was currently Kyree’s favorite.

When I turned for the hidden room, the volume increased to club level, the pronounced bass booming through the speakers. I rested my shoulder on the doorjamb and witnessed the most precious sight I’d seen in a while. A tall ogre build side-by-side with a miniature frame, mimicking the same dance movements. Kyree killed this dance. He got so into it, he angled his head to the side, adding his little swag to it. But next to him, Trent’s lengthy limbs kept in step. In fact, his movements were made with agility and thorough exactness. He even included extra arm swings and neck rolls. I guessed he, too, had mastered the dance.

Not wanting to be left out, I sashayed into the room, rounded the sofa and made my way in front of the dancing duo to begin my rendition of the dance. I wasn’t too bad either; Ky made sure of it when he taught me months ago. I didn’t look back at them, subconsciously waiting for Ky to kick me out or complain about me jumping in front of them. Finally, I joggled around to find Ky moving and smiling at me, happy with my playful state. Then I turned seductively to Trent, going for my best Beyoncé head swing over my right shoulder. He was still cutting the rug on the
Stanky Leg
, but his eyes were stapled below as his hips moved fluidly. I stumbled when I saw his bottom teeth protruding as he moved. Trent must have caught my missed step because his eyes appeared on me. He frowned with his forehead while grinning, questioning my stupor.

“You cut your beard?”

He nodded coolly before moving on to the next part of the dance, “breaking his legs”, that had escaped me in my dazes. I was looking at Trent’s full face
and damn it
, he was not only handsome, but caught up in a child’s dance exposing his insouciance. He now had a thin mustache outlining his full luscious lips, curving around into a manicured goatee that was cut with delicate precision to highlight his strong jawline. His virility was on full blast and I was heating in the face.

Holy hell, this man is fine as flying fuck!

“Mom!” Kyree’s cry had me leaping in position and eyes blinking me out of my reverie. “You gotta dance or go!”

He was being fresh, something I’d normally tear into his behind about, but in the moment he was right: I had to leave. If I didn’t I’d be eye-fucking his ogre friend…in front of him.

On my way up the stairs to the second level, I berated myself for lusting over a man trying to help me out in trying times. Trent seemed to be a good guy—the same benevolent man I met on the field. I no longer worried about his motives for helping being perversely linked to Kyree. He may not have been exactly gushing with hospitality for me, but he’d not rushed us out of here. Not only was Trent kind, but apparently he was a Christian man. He went to church faithfully every Sunday morning and Thursday night. I’d wondered what a man his age had been so committed to that was at church. I’d also wondered about his relationship status. He brought no women to his home. There had been no signs of women here. He was twenty-six years old, fine as holy hell, but had no social life outside of church.

Or maybe that’s where his social life is
—
where she is
…    

I came into the house, out of breath from my morning run and meditation. My clothes clung to my wet skin while Tye Tribbett blasted in my ears. It was Sunday morning, my most spirited day of the week. It had been for years for two reasons. It was the day of community worship in church and the day where America’s most adored religion was predominantly practiced: football. Either event filled my passion like no other, only one I was naturally inclined to do and the other I struggled every day to get right at. My spiritual life had strengthened over the years. I was fortunate enough to find the right house of worship at a young age and blessed to have a talented leader to connect to. While in prison, the only consistency that followed me in there was my ability to pray freely. Of course, the frequency increased, but so did the intensity. When I was released, I vowed to never stop seeking God. I told Him I wouldn’t stop until I was made perfect in His eyes, and boy, did I have a long way to go.

I panted while I trekked through the back of the house with my palms on my waist. When I stopped at the bottom of the staircase, I shifted to see Kyree coming down. He had on a dress shirt with a tie, slacks, and shoes. I lowered my headphones.

“Where you going, fly man?” I was impressed by his get up.

“With you, to church.”

My neck jerked back and face frowned in surprise. “For real?”

“Yeah. That’s what mommy said. She said we had to get up crazy earlier to make it.” He kept past me, speaking over his shoulder. “I’m going to pack me a snack. I don’t wanna get hungry when we get there.”

I snorted, not believing what I’d just heard before turning back to take up the stairs.

“I hope you don’t mind.” That voice had me stumbling, almost to the landing.

It was Jade, wearing a red blouse and a tan skirt. She had rubber rods twisted in her hair and wore no hosiery or shoes. 

I blinked, shocked by this new development in my morning. “Nah. I don’t mind. Just wasn’t expecting to see y’all up this early on a weekend.”

“I didn’t want to miss you. I know you go to the 8 o’clock and 11 o’clock, so figured we should be ready for both. You know, just in case.” She eyed my workout gear.

“Ummmm...” I scratched my brow. “Yeah. Eight o’clock this morning. I was just about to shower so I can be out of here in 'bout thirty minutes.”

“Okay.” She started down the steps, toward me. “Oh!” she shrieked. “I used your shower this morning. I hope you don’t mind. Ky and I went at the same time.”

“It's all gravy.” I didn’t know what else to say about that.

A woman using my shower here at the crib
.

I offered it to her last week because the one in the room Kyree used was small with no counter space and a tight tub with the shower attached. It just didn’t seem fitting for a woman like Jade. She was small in stature, but there was something royal about her I couldn’t put my finger on, but could sense.

A pretty smile brushed on her lips. They were a pearly pink; a soft color I was sure dulled for the occasion. Jade’s hair and makeup were always on point. A clear diva to me. There was something about her that didn't add up. She had a model frame—minus the height, stayed slayed with her hair, makeup, and most of the times clothes. But she was here, on hard times. She looked like a groupie, physically, had a lifestyle like an around-the-way girl, and behaved like a debutante. Something was off for sure.

“Okay. I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t make a mess in the kitchen then I’ll finish getting ready myself.”

I nodded, watching her toe around me toward the kitchen. I tried not to, but couldn’t resist. Her fat peach poked in the knee-length skirt, but not as much as I’d seen of it beneath that tight little waist. Taking a deep breath, I took for the steps, reminding myself why I needed Jesus every day to keep me from temptation. Jade would surely get me in trouble.

Service was great as usual. Praise and worship was on point. The choir was rocking so hard, even Kyree stood and performed his two-step. We sat up in the balcony where select members are given more privacy. This wasn’t the case before Ezra switched it up about five years ago. He saw that members and mostly their non-member friends were taking pictures of me, Jeremy Harris from the
Giants
, Ragee, a known R&B artist, and a few other notable members here at
Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ Church
in Harlem, New York. It was a distraction and honestly became a hassle to even attend church. So, he reserved a portion of the balcony for us with security to ensure no lurkers were up here. People think only saints go to church. Wrong. Groupies, hustlers, and reporters frequented services when they had agendas. 

Jade sat mostly still throughout praise and worship. She seemed cagey, uncomfortable as her eyes danced all around the sanctuary in between tending to Kyree. When Ezra took the stage I could tell she was captivated, and that didn’t surprise me much. Ezra was dope with his delivery; sophisticated and simplistic at the same time. He broke down the Word clear enough for all to understand. His movements were slow, measured for deep expression. He’d use common concepts people could relate to, add scriptural reference, and top it off with psychological context. That was his thing, his gift. Like this morning, he spoke about believing in yourself when others doubt you. He said the task of knowing yourself and believing in you is a personal and intimate undertaking. He used Job for an example, saying how even his wife and friends told Job to curse God, but he refused to because he was determined to remember God’s majesty and faithfulness. It was a sound resolve that could be shaken, but not broken by others.