Page 30

As Kenyatta steered the Porsche down the winding road leading to the lakeside marina, the scene ahead was nothing short of Sunday at The Water in full swing.

The open space sat on the south side of Trinity Bay, where lush oak trees stretched wide, casting much-needed shade over the sprawling green fields. The lake itself glittered beneath the sun, its blue-green waters calm but alive with the occasional ripple from kids splashing near the shore.

A cool breeze rolled off the bay, carrying the scent of smoked meats and charcoal from the dozens of grills lined up in clusters throughout the marina. Hickory, mesquite, and lighter fluid mixed with the unmistakable fragrance of homemade sides; mac and cheese, baked beans, collard greens, and fresh cornbread that somebody’s granny had definitely made.

Laughter and chatter rose above the rhythmic pulse of old-school R it was Juneteenth in the Southside.

Kenyatta slowed the car to a stop near a makeshift parking area in the grass, where dozens of SUVs, old-school Chevys, and candy-painted donks gleamed under the sun. He cut the engine and sat there for a second, gripping the wheel.

Musa, stretched comfortably in the back seat, lifted his head immediately, his dark eyes locking on the movement outside. His presence was as commanding as ever, solid, watchful, present.

Krys, perched in the passenger seat, adjusted the delicate jewelry on her wrist and smoothed the hem of her dress, acting unbothered but very much aware that all eyes were about to be on them.

The moment Kenyatta opened the driver’s side door, heads turned. Krys slid out of the Porsche with slow, effortless ease. The sun kissed her skin, the soft shimmer highlighting the curves of that body-hugging dress. Her fresh Nikes only made the look more effortless, like she was just as comfortable in the Southside as she was in a penthouse overlooking Midtown.

A few women exchanged knowing glances, murmurs passing between them.

The men eyed Kenyatta with recognition; because this was Yatta . The one who used to pull up like this. The one who always had money in his pocket and an aura of untouchable confidence. And now he was standing here, with her.

Then, the back door eased open, and Musa stepped out.

The immediate shift was palpable.

A few people stopped mid-sentence, their eyes widening as the massive Cane Corso emerged from the car, his black coat shining under the sun, his size damn near absurd to those who had never been in his presence.

A low whistle came from somewhere in the crowd.

“Aye, what the hell kind of lion you got with you, Yatta?”

Kenyatta chuckled, patting Musa’s side. “Chill, man. He good.”

Musa was unbothered. His massive head turned slightly, taking in the scene like a general surveying his territory.

Krys didn’t even flinch, tossing her oversized sunglasses onto her head. “I already warned Yatta, if something pops off, Musa gon’ act accordingly.”

“Man, that ain’t no regular dog!” Nub’s voice boomed as he made his way over from the crowd. “That’s security on four legs!”

Musa’s ears flicked at the noise, but his focus remained on his perimeter. He stayed close to Krys, his presence alone enough to demand respect.

Nub reached them first, his one good arm lifting as he called out, “Ayyyeeee, look who finally decided to bring his ass around!”

A roar of approval followed from the group near him, and before Kenyatta could respond, Nub was already sizing up the situation.

“Damn, boy, you still know how to pull up in style, huh?” Nub’s gaze flicked from the Porsche to Krys to Musa. His grin deepened. “And you ain’t come empty-handed, either.”

Krys folded her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Nub could answer, Tru, one of Nub’s homeboys, stepped up, pointing directly at Musa. “Aye, I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I ain’t tryna get too close ‘til I know if that mothafucka bite.”

Krys tilted her head, amused. “He don’t bite.”

Kenyatta cut her a look. “Krys.”

She chuckled, glancing down at Musa, who was still on high alert, his massive body positioned protectively beside her.

“A’ight,” Krys amended. “He don’t bite unless you do something stupid; so, don’t be doing nothing stupid.”

Nub let out a sharp laugh, nodding toward Kenyatta. “Oh yeah, she dangerous bro. You sure you got this under control?”

Kenyatta just shook his head, grin creeping back up. “Man, she ain’t my problem; she y’all’s now.”

Krys rolled her eyes, grabbing the case of premium liquor from the backseat. “Y’all standing here talking, or we drinking?”

That got a reaction. Tru stepped up and grabbed the liquor from her.

“Oh, I like her,” one of the YN’s close by called out.

“She bossy. I see why you been hiding her, Yatta,” an old head added.

Kenyatta chuckled, grabbing the bag of desserts from the backseat. They had barely been here five minutes, and already, Krys was making an impression.

Musa was still watching, still waiting. Because in his eyes, nothing and no one was moving unless he allowed it.

Kenyatta called out to Krys, “Aye, tell this nigga at ease or something. Loosen up! We at a park, my nigga.”

Musa huffed and proceeded to follow Krys; ignoring Kenyatta completely.

Kenyatta shook his head. Between Krys and Musa, he was sure the day was going to be eventful.

**********

People continued to take notice of Kenyatta and his company’s presence. It wasn’t dramatic; nobody was about to stop grilling, shut off the music, or put down their Solo cups, but they were definitely eyeing, observing, and speculating.

The “this you, nephew?” energy was thick. Before they could get too far, a group of older men sitting under another tent waved Kenyatta over.

Krys quickly picked up that these were the uncles, the old heads, the storytellers. They were already grinning.

“Boy, bring yo’ ass over here!” One of the old heads, Big Ron, called out from his usual fold-out chair, gripping his drink like a king surveying his land.

“Look at him,” Uncle Joe chuckled. “Done disappeared for months and pop back up in a damn spaceship with a fine ass woman. He up to somethin’.”

Kenyatta just shook his head, smiling with a hint of embarrassment. “Man, Unc…Here y’all go.”

The moment they got closer, Big Ron turned to Krys. “You sure you wanna be around this one?” he asked, pointing at Kenyatta. “He used to be a wild one back in the day.”

Krys, without missing a beat, smiled sweetly. “Used to be?” she teased. “You sure about that?”

The whole table busted out laughing.

“Ohhhhh, she quick with it!” Uncle Joe cackled.

Kenyatta shook his head, laughing, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love this.

Krys wasn’t nervous nor stiff. She was just being herself, and they were eating it up.

One of the men leaned forward. “Now, baby girl, tell us…what’chu doing with this knucklehead nigga?”

Krys glanced at Kenyatta, smirking. “I guess he knows how to talk a good game,” she teased. “I figured I’d give him a chance, see if he could back it up.”

Another round of laughter.

Kenyatta just shook his head, chuckling. “She wild,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Nah, she good people if she with yo’ ass,” Uncle Joe said approvingly.

He heard it. The genuine approval in their voices, and for the first time in a long time it actually meant something. Besides, this was Krys with him. She carried herself in a way that demanded attention without trying. The kind of effortless grace that had people knowing she had money, class, and wasn’t the type to be played with. And yet, she still blended in.

She wasn’t out here acting too good for anybody and wasn’t looking down on folks or being standoffish. She just moved with confidence.

However, while Kenyatta was soaking all that in, Musa was still on guard. He hadn’t left Krys’ side since they stepped out of the car. His enormous black form sat just behind her, watching the movement of people, his dark eyes tracking everything. A few kids ran past him, but the moment they saw him, they slowed up quick.

“Damn, is that a bear?” Bryan, one of Kenyatta’s older cousins, asked, eyeing Musa like he wasn’t sure if he was trained or about to start handing out karma.

Nub let out a short laugh, arms crossed. “Nah, that ain’t no bear…That’s a damn bodyguard.”

Musa’s ears flicked, but he didn’t acknowledge them. He just stayed posted.

When someone he didn’t like the energy of walked too close to Krys, he let out a low, almost imperceptible rumble. It definitely had people thinking twice.

Kenyatta caught it, smiling to himself. Musa wasn’t just a pet. He was a statement.

“Daddy!”

Kaliyah’s excited little voice rang from across the way, and seconds later, she came flying over, her braids bouncing, and a beaming smile stretched across her face.

Kenyatta bent slightly as she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You made it!” Kaliyah said, looking up at him with the kind of pride that could break and heal a man at the same time.

Krys watched as Kenyatta’s usually stoic expression softened just a little.

“Course I did, baby girl.”

Kaliyah beamed before her big brown eyes flicked over to Krys. She hesitated for only a second before grinning again. “Hi, Miss Krys!”

Krys smiled warmly, kneeling slightly. “Hey, princess. You having fun so far?”

Kaliyah nodded enthusiastically. “All my cousins here, and they got a bouncy house and cotton candy over there.”

Krys gasped playfully. “Not cotton candy.”

Kaliyah giggled. “Yes! I’ve tried the pink and the blue, but not the green yet.”

Krys held up a hand. “Say less. You had the good flavors.”

Kaliyah giggled again, then suddenly turned and took off running back to the cluster of kids by the inflatable slides, her excitement too strong to stay still.

Musa had watched that entire exchange. For the first time since they arrived, his tense posture relaxed slightly. His ears perked, recognizing Kaliyah. In fact, when she turned around mid-sprint and waved at him, he tilted his big head and something soft danced in his eyes.

Krys rubbed him gently, and whispered, “Not yet. We’ll play in just a second.”

He finally laid down beside Krys’ chair; back on watch duty.

“A’ight now, boy, stop stalling. Bring that girl over here to meet ya mama.”

Aunt Joyce, one of the family’s main matriarchs, was waving them over toward the shaded area where the older women sat in their lawn chairs, watching everything unfold like the Black Auntie Coalition they were.

Here we go.

Kenyatta exhaled, stealing a glance at Krys, who of course was completely unbothered. If meeting the mother of a man with a complicated past was something that fazed her, she wasn’t letting it show.

They strolled over, the sun peeking through the oaks above, the scent of barbecue growing thicker in the warm air.

Sitting calmly, legs crossed, one arm draped over the back of her chair was Traci. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t mean-mugging either. Just watching. Studying.

Since that night when Bishop had shown up at the door, Kenyatta and Traci hadn’t spoken much. He had gone by to get a few things, but he made sure she wasn’t present. The only time they really talked was when she was letting him know she had Kaliyah and would be bringing her to Sunday at the Water that day.

Kenyatta already knew how this was about to go. His mama was the type to say a little but mean a lot.

“Mama.” Kenyatta started, keeping his tone even. “This Krys.”

Krys extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Traci.”

Traci took her time before shaking Krys’ hand, her grip firm, but not unfriendly.

She gave her a slow once-over before nodding.

“Pretty.” She noted, voice smooth and unreadable.

Krys smiled pleasantly. “Thank you.”

Traci tilted her head. “You got a lil’ money, huh?”

Weird thing to outright ask, but Krys didn’t let it bother her. She lifted a shoulder. “I do alright.”

A flicker of amusement flashed in Traci’s eyes, but it was gone as quick as it came. She leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers against the armrest. “You must really like my son to put up with his shit.”

Not a question; more of a statement.

Krys didn’t flinch. “I do.”

Simple. Straightforward.

Traci gave a slow nod, a sip from her cup as if she was reflecting; then gave a grunt.

That was it.

Kenyatta nudged Krys and motioned to move on. He knew that was all they were going to get from Traci which was better than he expected.

As they stepped away, Krys glanced at him with amusement. “She always like that?”

Kenyatta chuckled. “That was her being nice.”

Krys gave a thoughtful sigh. “Good to know.”

Kenyatta shook his head. “That’s just her. I think that’s where Kaliyah gets it from.”

Krys let out a soft laugh. “Yeah…I can see that.”

She had no idea how much he was truly appreciating her right now. The way she handled herself, moving through the family with ease; and then the way she looked at him like she wasn’t afraid to be associated with him. This was something he wanted to hold onto.