Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1) (33 page)

“The truck needs its next service checkup,” she murmured softly in her thoughts.

“I’ll take it on Wednesday when I’m off.”

“You sure?” I felt her ambers on me. “I can do it.” She winced in revelation. “How much is it going to be?”

I scoffed, my regard back on the Garden State Parkway. “I got it, Jade.”

“But—” her phone rang. The Bluetooth muted the music, cutting her her off,
and bringing me luck
.

I wasn’t in the mood to fight with her.

“Here you go, KyKy,” the inspiration in her voice had changed in just seconds as she pushed the phone to the back seat.

“Hello?” After a few seconds Ky spoke again. “Mommy, I can’t hear.”

“Whaddup, lil’ nigga?” blasted through the Rover and I cringed at that reference, knowing right away who it was. 

“Here he is. Oh. Hey, Daddy.”

“Yeah. What you got going on today?”

“Ummm…” Kyree thought about that answer. “I’m with my mommy and Trent. We went to visit his uncle.”

“Who?” Ryshon asked.

Jade’s caramel hand skirted over my thigh. I wondered what was the science behind that move. Did she think I needed comfort from Ryshon’s incoming response?

“Trent,” Ky repeated.

“Who the hell is Trent?” he asked clearly confused.

“I don’t know. Trent Bailey,” Ky delivered that with more confidence.

“Trent Bai— Oh. Y’all out at a game or something?”

“No. We’re riding home, Daddy.”

From the rearview mirror, I could see Kyree was still engaged in his book.

“C’mon, son. You driving home with Trent Bailey, Kyree? Get the hell outta here.” He laughed.

“For real. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

My eyes popped at that title. Jade and I had never talked about how we would break the news to Ky or what we’d exactly tell him we were to each other. I didn’t realize she had. I tossed a glance to find her biting that bottom lip covered in pink gloss, her eyes wider than usual in embarrassment. My thigh started to tense, hating that I was listening to this conversation. Ryshon may have been an ass, not caring about how he spoke to his son, but where I come from it’s disrespectful to be in on a man’s interactions with his seed. I didn’t feel comfortable, I felt protective.

“Where ya mom at, Kyree?” Ryshon asked without humor this time.

“Right here. They can hear you.”

“Jade.”

“I’m here,” she answered, staring straight ahead.

Though she stroked my thigh, it was clear Jade was hella uncomfortable.

“What he talking about?”

“He’s answering your question. We’re riding back from Camden to where we’re staying,” she kept her voice even.

“Where you staying?”

“With…a friend of mine.”

“Who?” he asked impatiently.

“Trent.”

“Who that? Why I’m just hearing about this shit? You ain’t say none of this shit the last time I called.”

Jade’s eyes squeezed closed. If I wasn’t mistaken, Ryshon sounded betrayed.

“Because a lot has happened over the past few months. We got evict—”

“Evicted? And you ain’t tell me?”

“What could you do? You haven’t had the money in months so I had to figure something out.”

“Taking my kid and staying with a baller was the only thing you thought of?”

Jade frowned. “That isn’t exactly what happened.”

“Nah. I know it ain’t! You think that millionaire nigga want somebody with a kid leeching off of him? How long you think that’s gonna last?”

“Excuse me?” she gasped.

Then she reached in the back seat to get the phone from Kyree.

“C’mon, Jade. I know you preppy and all, but use your noodle. That dude sees a pretty girl wit’ a dope ass body. He gon’ ring you out until the next bad bitch come around. That’s how it work. Trust me; I know. Men with money see game coming a mile away every day.”

“Yeah, but there’s just one problem with that, Ryshon.”

“What?”

“You ain’t got no money. Remember? That’s why we’re homeless now.”

Jade tapped the phone and ended the call. Stevie Wonder’s
Love Having You Around
streamed in the truck as she turned into the door, curled her legs and began to cry.

I knew she wouldn’t appreciate the irony in that song. Jade was too busy beating herself up for the past she couldn’t let go of. I reached up to change the track to
Girl Blue
.

“A’ight, grams!” Kendal, Trent’s younger cousin shouted over his shoulder while at the small entertainment unit, setting up his DVD player. “You’re gonna love this.”

“You know I am, baby!” Trent’s grandmother vowed as we sat in her living room in Camden, after dinner, waiting on this presentation. She turned to her niece. “The things they learn in that county tech school. I ‘member when they ain’t wanna bus Camden kids to that fancy town. Now look at it. So many of my babies done gone there.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” the woman hummed in agreement.

I turned to Trent, who sat to my right on the long sofa in the small room, bursting at the walls with over a dozen adults and children. He sat slouched, clad in his typical sweats stretched out with my hand on his thigh. His long legs had his
Timbs
in the middle of the floor, but he couldn’t help the length of his lanky frame no more than he could the modest size of his grandmother’s home. Kyree was to the right of Trent, standing at the side of the sofa, using Trent’s wide palm as a punching bag while we waited.

It was Easter Sunday, and with a full stomach and now eased nerves, my heart flowed with contentment from my decision to keep Kyree with Trent and me this holiday. My mother asked to have him for dinner after the eight o’clock service we all attended this morning at
Redeeming Souls
, but I declined. He could have even spent the day with Ryshon’s mother, but she didn’t go to church, and since meeting Trent, I developed an even deeper conscience about what I exposed my son to: energy and religion. I wanted him brought up with a moral compass, and not just a social one like my mother shoved down my throat my entire childhood. Besides, it was a holiday and my son needed to be with me. After service, we shot to the house and changed clothes just to hit the road again for South Jersey. Today was the first time I officially met Trent’s family, and I wanted them to see my full package: the man I fell instantly in love with and my most prized possession, Kyree.

“Just another second,” Kendal advised, still arranging wires.

The house was old and so was the electrical devices Trent’s grandmother had stacked on the entertainment unit, also topped with thick layers of dust. It made me think back to when we pulled up to the two-family home. It was nestled between vacant and boarded up properties. In fact, out of the ten or so homes on the block, possibility four were occupied while the others had painted up planks of wood in the windows and covering the front door. When we walked into Cora Mae’s home, I was immediately attacked by the pungent odor of an aged home. It was so strong, embedded in the fibers of the walls, curtains, furniture, carpet, and flooring. After just two hours of experiencing the Bailey family, I realized that prevailing stench had been borne of years of familial spirit. Layers of family happiness, pain, tragedy, blessings, heart-rending repasts, joyful celebrations…just family. This was the home Trent spent his lifetime running in and out of when he wanted to escape the coldness of his mother’s resentment. It was where he was doted on, disciplined, and nurtured. After a couple of hours of getting used to the scent that rivaled the delicious food, I warmed to the place. His family, his world.

Trent introduced me to most of the gang present when we arrived. A few more trickled in during and after dinner. The amount of food lining each table and countertop in the kitchen was sinful and delicious, might I add. Trent’s ailing grandmother of seventy-seven years young had mustered the strength needed to throw down in her kitchen as she had for decades. Every soul food dish I could think of was present. There were even a few Spanish dishes available, courtesy of one of Trent’s younger cousin’s girlfriend. Just a fantastic display of love and culture in the most modest of abodes.

I sparked up friendly conversations with a few of his relatives I recalled fond stories of and shared them. Everyone reciprocated in their own way, even if by way of a nod and smile. At one point, Trent pulled me away from his childhood friend, who came in late and was trying to eat as I told a story Trent had shared with me. It was of how he fractured his wrist trying to climb a gate when getting away from a bodega owner after they stole packs of gum and baby lotion. His uncle, Trick, who was Trent’s age, couldn’t hide his embarrassed smile that was missing a tooth.

Trent dragged me into the small hall, out of the main arena.

“Jade, you’re gonna make me look like some love-struck, diary-writing-in-his-girl bitch!” he whispered hard with flared nostrils.

“What?” I gasped. “I’m just doing familiar chatter to cure my nerves. I’m the new chick on the big block.”

“You ain’t got no reason to be nervous. My family’s cool on you. Just don’t make it seem like I ran to you one day and cried my life story.”

He was cute. Absolutely adorable when fussing me out. It was so bad my groin stirred and nipples tingled at his scolding. I knew I had it bad for this man, who towered over me, flexing to a degree he clearly thought I could handle in spite of the height and weight disparity. And clearly I could. I knew how to handle my big guy, all right.

“I think I like you being my love-struck, diary-writing-in-his-girl bitch.” I played coy, supplying a placid expression with wide eyes.

Trent scoffed, straightening from over me. He wouldn’t allow the abrupt smile begging his face.

“C’mon, man,” he exhaled. “Let’s get some dessert.”

He grabbed me by the arm, yanking me behind him. If we were alone, I’d bump into his tall frame from behind and feel him up, molesting his king jewels. But I couldn’t. We were in Cora Mae’s house, and I was trying to win them over. Feeling up their beloved wouldn’t get me the votes of approval needed.

Dessert was just as delectable and in abundance as dinner. My contribution was a large pan of pineapple pudding and monkey bread for the kids. After asking what was pineapple pudding with contorted faces, many sampled, approved, and raved over it after scooping more. It was a sure hit, because curiosity killed most of the rest, and before I knew it, the large aluminum pan was empty before Trent could have some. With a chest full of pride, I reached up from my tippy toes and kissed his cheek, promising to make more by the time he returned from Connecticut this week. If I thought Trent’s family had warmed to me during dinner, it was on overload now. Even Cora Mae hummed her praises, making me want to thank my mother for getting the recipe from a school cafeteria worker she’d crossed paths with back in the ‘80s.

There was, however, one attendee that had been visibly unwelcoming: Brenda, Trent’s mother. I tried to check my feelings about our impending meeting the moment I woke up this morning. When we walked in, she didn’t run out into the living room to greet Trent like the others did. Brenda stayed in the kitchen, preparing the last of dinner. When Cora Mae told Trent she was in the back, I followed him into the kitchen where he spoke to her and she returned the greeting with rushed words and a quick glance from over her shoulder. After a few seconds, Trent backed out of the kitchen without introducing Ky and me.

Brenda was strange, aloof to a large degree. She interacted with some and doted on three: Cora Mae, Shank, and her baby brother, Trick. According to Trent, she’d just started coming around the family again after having an estranged relationship with her mother all of Trent’s life. It was nice to see how Brenda waited on Cora Mae. I would’ve never guessed a day of distance. Brenda insisted on serving Shank’s plate, telling April to take a break. She even pushed his wheelchair near the television here in the living room. I smiled at her at some point during dinner. After several blinks of shock, she hesitantly nodded and turned away, never even speaking to Kyree and me.  I sucked it up, being grateful for Trent spending the holiday with family. Every child needs its mother.

And that’s what I got from these people: family. They treated Trent no different from anyone else, something I knew he preferred. Only his younger teen cousins saw TB in him. This was clear by the beam in their eyes as they stalked his every move. The way they called his name and asked about different members of the
Kings
. Trent seemed to take it in stride and answer what he could without giving details of his current relationship with the team, though everyone knew. Other than that oddity, I could sense everyone loved Trent and made room for his celebrity—protected it, in fact. I heard whispers in the kitchen while fixing my plate that this was the short list of guests in the family. Many of the usuals weren’t invited in order to protect Trent’s privacy and comfort level. I had a few questions about that, which would have to wait until we were alone.

Then there was his uncle, the one his age. There was strange electricity shooting between the two. Trent told me his relationship with Trick had been rough when they hit their teen years, and had only grown more tense since then. He was released from prison a few months back and it brought a great deal of apprehension for Trent, who wanted nothing but peace from him. I was concerned about how he’d receive Trent today, though Trent said they’d seen each other since Trick’s release. So far, their interaction was disaffected, but no drama. Trick’s girlfriend confirmed my morning decision of going for a neutral face was the right choice. She was a sloppy sight, but reticent. She ate a pile a yard high and laughed and smiled only when she was feeding it to her face. Now, sitting across the room from us, I could see her clothes were ill-fitted, nails chipped, and weave in a disheveled mess on top of her head. It made me wish I’d brought my nail case to set her manicure straight and could have even tightened up her tracks.

Out of nowhere, I felt an abrupt nudge to my side.

“Stop staring,” Trent warned underneath his breath with eyes still on Kyree’s fast fists.  

My mouth fell open and I immediately diverted my eyes. Boy, did that not cure anything. They slam centered on Brenda. This time she rolled her eyes. The bitch! She was the reason I opted for pineapple instead of banana pudding because she was the—alleged—culinarian of that dish. I respected that and went for another. Brenda Bailey made my skin crawl at the valley of despondency in her eyes when she looked upon what my heart believed to be the brightest star in the universe: her only living son. And all I wanted was for her to see what I saw. I sighed to myself. Overall, when I scanned the people around, I fit in.

Nonetheless, Kendal had everyone anticipating his presentation, something he created in school.

“Here we go!” He tapped the remote and a picture flashed on the 32-inch screen.

After a few seconds of viewing, I realized it was a montage of video footage and still pictures of the Bailey family. Many faces I didn’t recognize, but some were of those sitting in the room with us. I saw images of Cora Mae—a younger, more fit, and agile version of her current self, based on her poses and posture. There were loads of images of Shank, and
oh my god
, was that man fine to death! I could see the draw. In my experience, most strippers’ bodies were a delight to watch, but their faces could and should be kept masked. Shank was the total package. I saw him in costume and out. His profession seemed to be a cultural norm in this family, as no one in the room had an adverse reaction to the pictures and footage of him either dancing in skanky clothing and partially nude except for Kyree, who
ewwwwed
at most of them.

I caught Trent in many shots. Lots of them were of him and Trick as kids. There was this one picture of the two of them sitting in chairs in the dining room, both boys with their arms crossed angrily. Only Trick scowled with pouted lips while Trent cried his eyes out. It shredded my heart to pieces.