Page 47 of Collateral Love
She didn’t challenge my authority.
She expanded it.
I started running things the way she would’ve—anticipating fallout, insulating people, planning two exits for every move. I stopped enjoying chaos. Stopped mistaking noise for control.
One night, she invited me to sit in on a meeting I wasn’t supposed to attend.
Four students. Two guys. Two girls. All nervous. All were thinking they were about to get blessed with an opportunity.
Kenya ran the room.
Not loud. Not intimidating but present.
“You don’t need to know the whole plan,” she told them. “You just need to know your role. You’ll be compensated fairly. You won’t be overworked. And if you talk out of turn, you’ll be removed quietly.”
One of the guys laughed.
“Removed how?”
She looked at him. Really looked at him.
“You’ll lose access,” she said. “And people lose interest in what doesn’t provide access.”
The room went silent.
When they left, I leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.
“You could’ve scared them more,” I said.
She shut her laptop. “Fear makes people lie. Comfort makes them loyal.”
“You sure?”
She met my gaze. “You don’t lead with violence. You lead with structure. Violence is maintenance.”
I stared at her.
“So the opposite of me?” I asked.
She smiled, slowly. “I don’t intend to break their ribs and force them to transfer.”
I laughed in awe of her knowing the truth about that dumb frat boy.
We started eating togetherafter meetings. Nothing romantic. Just food and quiet. Sitting on library steps or in my car with the engine running. Sometimes she talked about her baby sister, Chanel, brilliant and fragile in ways Kenya tried to hide. Sometimes she talked about her brother inside.
She never cried.
But her voice tightened when she spoke about injustice, about men who made deals and walked free while others rotted.
“I don’t believe in fate,” she said once. “I believe in infrastructure. If I build the right one, nobody I love will fall through the cracks as Jared did.”
The look in her eyes was so hopeful. She wasn’t Kenya the soldier, the Queen Pin, or my business partner. I saw the engineer, the chocolate beauty whom I had grown feelings for, pouring her heart out. I wanted to promise her things then.
But I couldn’t because in this life there are no promises, only day to day. And a Nigga couldn’t front, I enjoyed spending my days with YaYa.
Promises made too early always turned into liabilities.
Instead, I showed up, again and again.
