Page 281 of Kentrell

Another call. Same name: Malcolm.

I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it like it owed me something. Now I knew. This ain’t no coincidence. This call from my mama and him blowing up my line at the same time? Nah. Something was going down. Something he didn’t want me to know. Something she needed me to find out.

And that sent me right over the edge.

“A’ight, Ma. I’m on my way.” I ended the call, ignoring Malcolm again.

My whole chest was pulsing now. Not from heartbreak. From fury.

I wasn’t just mad anymore. I was murderous.

I don’t give a fuck how rich Malcolm is. Don’t care how deep his daddy’s pockets go, or what power the Whitfields think they hold in this city.

Behind Zoe? Behind my mama?

I’d kill that man. And sleep just fine afterward.

I tossed the phone across the bed like it burned me. Stood up too fast, dragging my hands down my face like that’d somehow pull me together.

Nah. I was too far gone for that.

I needed to move.

I hit the bathroom, turned the water damn near scalding. Let the steam fill up the space ‘til it felt like I was drowning in it. Peeled off my clothes like they offended me, stepping under the spray like it could rinse the rage outta my skin.

It didn’t.

I stood there for a minute… breathing hard… letting the water hit my back.

Then I reached for her soap.

Her shit was still lined up on the edge of the tub like she never left. That vanilla and coconut body wash she used that always stuck to my sheets night after night. I popped the cap,squeezed too much in my palm, and lathered up like I ain’t know better.

Her scent hit me instantly.

Made my throat tighten.

I caught myself glancing toward the corner of the sink. Her toothbrush… still there in the little cup next to mine. Pink and white… the one I joked about throwing away just to get a reaction out of her. Truth is, I wanted every piece of her she left around my house.

Now?

Now I couldn’t even look at that toothbrush without my chest knotting up.

Her bonnet was still draped over the edge of my dresser sink, too. Black silk… the same one I snatched off her head that morning we stayed in bed ‘til noon.

Her little touches… everywhere.

A bottle of lotion on my nightstand. A pair of slides by the door. That half-empty pack of gum in my coat pocket.

I got dressed fast… black cargo joggers, my K-Reese hoodie with the logo stitched across the chest, all black low-top Forces. No chains. No flashy shit. This wasn’t that.

I grabbed my Glock from the top drawer. Checked the clip. One in the head.

By the time I stood at the door, keys in hand, all that love and longing she left behind felt like fuel in my veins.

Malcolm wanted to play?

Cool.

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