Page 1 of A Kingpin’s Weakness

Stormi

The ringing and vibrating grew louder as I realized it was not a part of my dream.

My cellphone was really going off. I’d maybe been asleep for a couple of hours, but I knew damn well it wasn’t morning.

The sun hadn’t kissed my body good morning yet.

The stars and moon were still dancing the night away like they had nowhere else to be.

“Hello,” I said in a sexy unattractive voice. Don’t ask how that works, it just does.

I had just wrestled my cellphone out from under the dozen pillows I kept on the left side of the bed. No man slept over there, so I kept that side warm with snacks and bad decisions disguised as throw pillows. Depending on the night, there might be an open bag of hot Cheetos too.

“Stormi! It’s RJ.”

I blinked at the ceiling. “RJ. I swear somebody better be dead. I was just about to say I do to Lance Gross.” I could still feel the echo of his lips on my neck in that dream. Lawd Dreams were so disrespectful.

Silence. That was the first red flag. Normally, RJ would’ve jumped all over that Lance Gross comment with something slick. A joke, a laugh, a girl get outta here. But tonight, nothing.

“RJ, what’s wrong?”

I sat up, brushing my bonnet back like I was trying to see though the phone. I felt that heaviness in my chest, that low, gnawing weight that told me before I even had proof that something was wrong. After 25 years of friendship, RJ being silent something wasn’t right.

“Get on the next flight home.”

That was it. No context, no build up, just five words that sucked the oxygen right out of my chest. My heart was pounding. I hadn’t felt that place as home in years, but RJ’s voice had me sprinting back like it was my safe haven.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm. Sharp like he didn’t want to say more because if he did, it would break him. Or would it break me?

“I got you; whatever you need.”

I was already out of bed, grabbing my iPad with shaky fingers and pulling up flights. First one out, didn’t matter the price… that credit bill would be a problem for another day. I had bigger fish to fry tonight.

There was a pause on the line and then he said it.

“It’s Noah.” And just like that my heart fell to the bottom of my stomach.

Noah had just turned seventeen, and you couldn’t tell him he wasn’t a grown ass man now. Talking crazy like he had life all figured out. He was still my baby; always would be.

He was the baby I helped deliver on the cold bathroom floor when I was only thirteen, screaming louder than my mother while she bit down on a towel and told me to shut the hell up.

There was no ambulance, no doctor, no help; just me shaking and barefoot, catching a newborn in my hands while my mother cursed me out like I had done this to her.

I remember those nights waking up 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. like I didn’t have school in the morning; like I wasn’t a child myself. I’d warm up bottles, change diapers, and rock him until my arms went numb. Because if I didn’t do it who was? Not Jo. Please.

Jo made it clear she wasn’t waking up for any damn baby. Even if it was hers. She didn’t want him. Hell, she didn’t want me.

The minute Noah’s father walked out while she was pregnant, she was detached. She’d cut the cord emotionally before he was even born. After she did her 48 hours in the hospital, she wrapped that thing up and was back in the streets before Noah knew what lullabies were.

“Tell me something, RJ.” My voice cracked, even though I wanted to sound firm.

“I’m telling you to get on a flight and come home. Your brother needs you. Call me when you land, I got to get back to work.”

And just like that, the short conversation between me and my best friend was over.

Work?

RJ was a trauma nurse in the ER. Not just any hospital.

The hospital. The only one in our part of town that handled emergencies like the ones I never wanted to face.

And if RJ was there right now, calling me from work, saying my brother needed me…

My heart dropped like it knew something before my brain could catch on.

That meant Noah was there in that hospital somewhere under those blinding lights hooked to those machines that beep like clocks counting down. And RJ, who had never lost his cool, not even when Jo overdosed when we were kids, sounded like he was holding back tears.

I thought about my baby brother. Noah. Always so ready to grow up; too ready, honestly. He wanted to grab the world with both hands, just not the same way I did.

When I turned eighteen, I bolted. Graduated, packed up, and didn’t look back. College, career, new zip code, new life. That was my way of surviving. Leaving.

We came up the same: lights getting shut off, cold showers, and praying school lunch wasn’t the only thing we ate that day. We both knew what it felt like to grow up hungry. Not just for food but for something more. Stability. Peace. I guess we were just hungry in different ways.

Noah was obsessed with fast money. Ever since that first patch of chin hair came in at thirteen, you couldn’t tell him nothin’. Thought he was grown. Thought the streets were calling him personally.

It started as small petty theft, little things here and there. Then it escalated. Grand theft auto by fifteen. But the system treated him like the child he was. Thirty days in juvie. House arrest. Court-mandated therapy. Probation. Slaps on the wrist, really.

And every time, he played the part just long enough. Just like Jo taught him. She knew the drill: clean up the house, act right, and keep the noise down for a month till CPS closed the file again. Survival tactics. He learned that from her. How to put on the mask until the eyes stopped watching.

I pulled up the airline and typed in Stafford Creek. Just seeing the name again, it did something to me. Ten minutes later, the flight was booked. E-tickets hit my inbox like a final decision I wasn’t sure I made.

I just sat there. Frozen. Letting it sink in. My mind was racing but my body was stuck. I knew it was now or never. So, I put my feet on the cold wooden floor, let it ground me, and started pacing to the closet.

I pulled out the suitcase and that old duffle bag. The emergency ones. Always packed, just in case. I’d only ever had to use them twice. Once when my grandmother Sweetie got sick, and again when Jo overdosed.

After that, I kept them hidden. Tucked away in the back of my closet like everything else I didn’t want to face. But today? Today I pulled them out without hesitation. Because deep down, I knew I was going back.

Four hours later, I felt it; the breeze from home. Stafford Creek. It hit me the second those airport doors slid open, like the town itself knew I was back. The sun had the nerve to kiss my face like it was saying good morning but there wasn’t anything good about this morning.

I couldn’t move at first. My feet just stopped. Like my body forgot how to take another step. Like my heart already knew what my head didn’t want to hear.

I’ve walked into that hospital more times than I can count scraped knees, Sweetie health scares, Jo’s overdoses but never for Noah. And now here I am.

After I got my master’s, I thought about bringing Noah to live with me. Thought I could handle it. I had the space; the income it made sense. Would’ve saved me from trying to juggle bills across two households.

But by then, he was already deep in the mess; just reckless and unpredictable. And with my schedule, work, school, and volunteer stuff, I told myself I couldn’t keep an eye on him like I needed to. Or maybe that was just the excuse I chose to believe.

Cause deep down I knew I could do better than Jo. I knew it. But once you’ve tasted peace, real peace, the kind where you can breathe in your own space, sleep through the night, you don’t want to let go of that. Not for anyone. Even if that anyone is your baby brother.

I mean, I’ve been carrying weight since I was four. Taking care of Mom, taking care of everything. Don’t I deserve this life I built? Isn’t it okay to put Stormi first for once? Right?”

“You good, shorty?”

A low, masculine voice asked from behind me.

I smelled the cedarwood from his cologne before I even seen his face.

He stepped in front of me, smile lighting up like sunrise on dark chocolate skin.

Clean. Confident. Dressed in all black like he was in mourning, but it didn’t hide the way that T-shirt clung to his body like it was stitched to muscle.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, clutching my bags. “Let me move out of your way.”

I shifted to the side, trying to keep my eyes forward and on the doors. On the hospital. Because no matter how fine he was, I wasn’t here for distractions. I was here for Noah.

“Nah, you’re not in the way,” he said, cocking his head slightly. “You need help with your bags?”

He licked his lips subtly, but not subtle enough. His eyes traveled down my frame like this was a Friday night at a lounge, not the front of an emergency room.

“No, I’m fine,” I said, sharper this time. “Just not ready to go in yet.”

“The fear of the unknown,” he replied.

“What?” I blinked.

“This situation, it’s unfamiliar. Uncertainty has you stuck. You won’t know how bad it is until you step inside.” He held out his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk in with you.”

I looked up, finally meeting his eyes and they’re sincere. Not hungry. Not pressed. Just steady. Truthful. He and his boys could’ve walked past, but he stayed. Waiting. Holding space. That kind of gesture? It doesn’t come often.

I must’ve taken too long because suddenly, I felt his hand close around mine. Soft. Warm. Even though my palm is sweaty.

“Let’s go,” he says not asking. Commanding, but gentle.

He nodded at the guys behind him, and they scooped up my bags without a word.

He doesn’t pull. Doesn’t rush. Just waited while I inhaled, then exhaled.

My feet unglued from the concrete, and I walk forward toward the doors, toward whatever truth is waiting on the other side.