Page 211 of Kentrell

The voices got louder as I hit the landing.

“This nigga buy better groceries here than he do at the Penthouse?!” Wave’s voice carried like he was announcing a heavyweight fight.

“On bro—he had me and Star fending for ourselves in that bitch.” Oshon chimed in, laughing hard enough to shake the windows.

I shook my head as I rounded the corner. The double doors to the foyer were wide open—because of course they were—and all four of them were posted up like they owned the place.

Wani stood dead center in the living room with his arms stretched wide like he was making a grand entrance at a rap concert. Kensei sat perched on the arm of the couch, hoodie half-off like he’d just landed and couldn’t be bothered to dress all the way. Which made sense—last I heard from him, he was on a flight from Europe, barely twelve hours ago.

“Kensei,” I called out, my voice low but sharp enough to cut through all the noise. “How the fuck they know I was here?”

Like a game of freeze tag, everybody turned to him at once.

All eyes on baby bro.

Kensei lifted his chin and gave the laziest shrug known to man. “I’on know… they followed me here.”

“Nah, he told us,” Wani said quickly, throwing him right under the bus with zero hesitation.

Kensei cut his eyes back at him, “Stool pigeon.”

“Man, fuck you,” Wani shot back with a grin.

Kensei turned to me, looking almost sheepish but still grinning like this whole thing was funny. “They missed you,bro. And I missed home-cooked shit that don’t come plated like abstract art.”

Oshon laughed. “That lil’ ceviche tower y’all posted in Paris looked like seafood Jenga.”

“Shit looked decent though,” Wave added, dropping onto the other couch with a thud, already halfway through a bear claw from the donut box I hadn’t even known they raided. “But this shit right here?” He took another bite, cheeks puffed out like a damn chipmunk. “Fye!”

He chewed, swallowed, and then pointed at me with powdered sugar on his fingers. “Where you been, James St. Patrick?”

The room broke out in laughter at that one.

“I ain’t been ghost,” I grunted, walking over to the end table to grab the security tablet. With a couple taps, I re-armed the alarm system, tightening up the perimeter. “I been busy.”

“Exactly!” Wani hollered, still loud as ever. I turned, just in time to catch him stretching out Zoe’s panties—the same ones I tore off her in the living room yesterday—now draped across the top of his head like a damn headband.

“Busy gettin’ your dick wet and dodgin’ your family.”

The whole room howled.

“Man, take that shit off,” I growled, pointing dead at him like I had the energy to fight everybody today.

“Make me, bitch,” Wani shot back with zero fear, sticking his tongue out for good measure.

Oshon stepped in then, voice dropping low and serious as he moved closer to me. “What’s going on witcha, Kentrell? I saw that lil’ house fire in Hyde Park… you and yo shorty good?”

“We’re good,” I answered without missing a beat.

“You sure?” He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice just enough for only me to catch it. “Lemme know something, bloody… I gotta leak onnat shit.”

He was speaking in code—out of respect.

Because Zoe was here.

Because they didn’t know how much she knew… or didn’t.

I gave a slow nod. “Shit… send them bitches off.”

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