Page 91 of Collateral Love
Good.
And Chanel?—
I swallowed.
I remembered her at eighteen, curled up on her bed, reading romance novels like they were armor. Like love was something that happened to other girls in safer worlds.
I had promised myself she wouldn’t see this side of me.
That she wouldn’t have to become this.
My jaw clenched. I had to get out of here. My baby sister would not have to see me identify myself. I would not leave that burden on her. Although my mom never liked me, I could imagine her wailing as if she cared. The irony is, I looked just like my mom.
My father used to say, “Kenya, you are Sharon’s twin. Your mother’s sharp mouth, attitude, and beautiful brown skin are what drew me to her.”
Yet those were the very same reasons my mother hated me. She said I was too damn loud, too prideful, and too fast. Looking at me was akin to looking in a mirror, and Sharon hated what she saw. She would rather see Chanel, lighter, softer spoken, and smaller. She never made comments about her thicker frame or made comments about a hair color not fitting her complexion.
As beautiful as my mother was, she hated herself, and she hated me more because I refused to hate myself. All the life she didn’t allow herself, I graciously gave myself. I showed my midsection rolls and all. I sewed in different bang colors to match my outfits. I wouldn’t let her sew discord between me and myself.
Denise came into the storage unit and broke me out of my train of thought.
She had dark circles under her eyes now.
“One call and I do the talking,” she said. “That’s all I can do.”
I wanted to smile, but I didn’t. I knew smiling would’ve spooked her.
“Thank you,” I said.
She asked me for the phone number.
With a cheap, old, burner phone, she dialed with shaky hands.
It picked up on the second tone.
I couldn’t make out the words he said, but I could hear his deep baritone.
“She told me to call you,” Denise whispered.
A paused ensued.
“That… you’d know what to do next,” the woman said. “She said not to panic. Said you’d understand.”
Denise began to feel nervous again, and her hands shook. She seemed anxious to get off the phone as if she was second-guessing her loyalty. Little did Denise know she was already a gonner. Loyalty cannot be reestablished. Even if she got out of here in one peace a bullet in her head was the only fate waiting for her.
Then she said it. “For the restie.”
Denise left without another word.
When the door shut, I leaned back and closed my eyes.
They thought that call was a favor.
It wasn’t.
It was a signal.
Zayden knew now.
