Page 23 of Collateral Love
Xavier was on the couch, drinking something brown in his cup while he watched a recap of the Crestwood Tigers game on Sports Center. I sat next to him and smiled.
“Kenya.” He smiled. “Zay is?—”
“Busy fuckin’,” I murmured. “I heard him on my way to the bathroom.”
Xavier and two of their friends laughed.
“You’ll get used to his manish way. All the homies know he’s a whore.”
I sat there and watched the highlights as I drank a glass of Hennessy that Xavier gave me. Being here made me miss my big brother. He never treated me like a fragile flower but like one of the Niggas and I missed that.
Ten minutes later, a pretty light-skinned chick with a big ass stepped out into the living room. She adjusted her jacket, and pulled her messy weave into a top knot on top of her head. She had a lazy smile and she looked satisfied and well fucked.
Of course, this bitch was pretty. She had smooth skin, a designer bag, and a confident walk. The kind of girl who knew exactly what she was and exactly what she wasn’t trying to be.
Zayden walked out of his bedroom shirtless.
Sweat still clung to his skin, his hair was slightly damp, and his chest glistened from sweat.
I put my head down, focused on my drink to keep from staring.
“Well damn,” he said. “You always got this kind of timing, Kenya?”
I lifted a brow. “Am I interrupting something important?”
He smirked. “Depends on who you ask.”
He came over to me and gave me a hug smelling of sex, smoke, and cologne. I took it in without comment.
Zayden grabbed a shirt off the back of the couch and pulled it on, movements unhurried.
“You want another drink?” he asked.
“Nah.”
That made him glance at me sideways.
“You always this serious?”
“Only when I’m building something.”
He motioned for me to join him in the kitchen.
The kitchen was clean, organized, and functional. No distractions. A man’s space, but not chaotic. I noted it all automatically the layout, exits, and sightlines. When you get into the drug game, you keep your head on a swivel, especially with your business partners.
Zayden poured himself a drink anyway, leaned against the counter, watching me like he was trying to decide what version of himself to bring to the table.
He swiped his hand down his fresh line up. “My bad that you caught me at a bad time,” he said.
“Nah,” I said. “I caught you being you.”
He laughed quietly. “That bother you?”
I met his gaze. “Why would it?”
The truth sat heavily between us.
Because it both bothered me and didn’t, I couldn’t articulate my feelings fully because I didn’t truly understand them myself.
