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“My son’s enamored with you.”
He lets the statement hang in the air. I don’t know how to respond to it, so I don’t. I figure wrong words can crucify me right now, so I’ll just let him talk, see what he has to say.
“Haven’t seen him like this in…ever,” he smiles lightly, but I don’t trust it. I feel like Big Daddy K is the type who can turn on a dime. He nods to himself like he’s figured something out. “If you would, I’d like to hear the entire conversation you had with Reynolds. Don’t leave anything out. You never know what might be important.”
I recount the entirety of the conversation the detective and I shared. I don’t exaggerate. I don’t downplay it. I say it word-for-word with a sure voice because I want him to know I’m not intimidated by him or his gang. He doesn’t want a girl like Johnny would usually bring home. He doesn’t want a girl who would just nod and laugh at everything that’s being said.
Unless I’ve read him wrong.
“You know what’s interesting, Kyla?” Big Daddy K asks, the last vowel in my name dragging out a few seconds, lingering in the air like a threat.
“What’s that?”
My heartbeat gets so loud I can hear it in my ears.
“I had you vetted, of course. You understand. I have to with anyone who is brought near me or my son or into the Crew. It’s for our safety.”
“Understood,” I say. I press my hands into my thigh as they start to shake. Maybe my background isn’t as tight as I wanted it to be. I’m almost expecting him to bring in my aunt and uncle, murder them in front of me because he saw right through the mask I placed over my real life.
He gazes at me, eyes intense. “I think… Well, there’s just something odd about you.”
He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms.
Well, fuck.
22
Big Daddy K tilts his head to the side, inspecting me like he wishes he could slice me open. As if doing that would give away all my secrets.
The fear rising inside me makes me want to lash out. Get defensive. But guys like Big Daddy K don’t abide by that. I force myself to wait to see what he has to say. He’ll get it out eventually, but I assume he loves making people sweat it out. I have to seem as unaffected as I can.
Mirroring him, I also drop back into the cushions of the sofa like I belong there. I smile at him, encouraging him to keep talking.
A smirk pulls his lips up higher. “It’s just it’s so sparse,” he says. “Your background.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask, stomach unsettling. “I can fill in some blanks if need be.”
“Your guardians?”
“Losers,” I tell him. “I keep my distance from them. They don’t care about me, and I don’t care about them.”
“Parents?”
“Dead.” I swallow, my voice dark even to my own ears.
He nods. “I get a lot of the same stories around here. No one comes to the Heights if they can help it.”
“So you’re probably used to people having sparse backgrounds then?” I ask boldly. “Not much to say about a shit life.”
His jaw ticks. “I’m told you fought with a lot of skill.”
“I like fighting,” I say, using the words I always use. “It helps me get out some of the aggression I hold inside.”
The more answers I give him, the more relaxed he gets. I don’t think I’ve gained the man’s trust by any means. I’m sure that’s hard to come by. Like with anyone who has a lot of power, you have to earn trust. You have to earn someone’s respect. You can’t just get it on the fly.
“I have an idea,” Big Daddy K muses. “Johnny won’t like it.”
My stomach squeezes, once again threatening to expel the breakfast I had this morning. It’s taking everything in me to sit in the presence of my parents’ killer calmly. I have a feeling once I get out of this place, it’s going to be a shit show. I can only pretend for so long.