Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood

by Meghan Quinn

  “It’s not like that,” Jett cut in, angry.

  “It’s not? Because it damn well looks like that. So tell me, if it’s not Natasha, then what is it?”

  “I’m over Natasha. She can have a grand fucking time with Rex for all I care,” Jett replied, clearly not at all cool with the turn of events in his life.

  “Yeah, you’re real convincing.”

  “It has to do with my mom, asshole,” Jett shot back.

  Taken back, I asked, “Your mom? Why?”

  Jett leaned against the doorframe of my room and placed his hands in his pockets. His black dress pants were a stark contrast to his white dress shirt, and his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it again. I’d known Jett for a very long time, and seeing him almost disheveled, key word being almost, was a change for me. He was always confident in everything he did. He never second-guessed himself, but because of the new venture, he was a little uneasy.

  “I feel like I need to do something to honor her, to give back due to the short life she had. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and the only thing I could come up with to honor my mom was helping out these women who have gone down the same path as her. I couldn’t help her, but I sure as hell can help them, starting with Barbara.”

  I nodded and thought about all of the rules and the system Jett had put together for these women. It was complicated. There was a lot for me to absorb, but I could see how utilizing what they knew best to earn them a lot of cash while being able to control their environment was smart. In addition to the girls dancing and making money off the city elites, they were required to earn an education, which meant they couldn’t stay a Jett Girl forever, a very smart idea on Jett’s part. If they were going to be a part of the club, then they were going to work at developing a future outside of what they already knew.

  The idea was crazy, possibly weird to accept looking in from the outside world, but it might just work. If Jett wanted to honor his mother, who was I to stop him? Hell, when the man set to accomplish something, he didn’t allow anything to stand in his way. I wasn’t about to test his limits.

  “Well, we should go greet her, then,” I said, motioning for Jett to leave my room.

  He took one last glance at the bare walls and tight space and shook his head. “I wish you would allow me to give you a better room.”

  “Not happening, end of discussion. Let’s move.”

  Jett quirked an eyebrow at me. He didn’t take kindly to direction but let it slip as he led the way through the servants’ quarters of the aged plantation house in the middle of the Garden District. The house screamed of old money, but everyone in the city knew differently. Jett wasn’t a man from old money. He’d developed his own fortune, strategically investing, developing several contacts throughout the city, and conducting business in a respectful manner, which was more than what his father, Leo, could account for.

  Just as we walked up to the front door, Jett’s driver pulled up in front of the gates and walked around to open the door for a very timid-looking woman.

  Barbara.

  Her ratty hair was a dirty blonde color, and I wasn’t sure if it was unwashed or the true color of her hair. Her clothes swallowed her whole, she was so thin. Her eyes widened in surprise at the extravagance of the house in front of her.

  Between her arms, clutched to her chest, was a garbage bag that seemed to have some of her possessions in it. I scanned her up and down, and a light stab took place in my chest. This woman needed help, she needed a second chance in life, and Jett was willing to offer her that chance.

  Jett stepped forward. “Welcome, Barbara. Please, come in.”

  She walked toward us suspiciously, clutching her bag and eyeing us up and down. She wet her lips and said, “How much?”

  “Excuse me?” Jett asked.

  “How much am I going to owe you for this? I don’t have any cash, but I can suck you off every night if you want. I pretty much will do anything sexual. Just name it, I’ve probably done it at least five times for cash.”

  My stomach flipped from her candidness. I’d thought my life was a pile of shit, but looking at Barbara, seeing the desperation in her eyes, I knew I didn’t have it half as bad.

  “Barbara, you don’t owe me anything. I want to help.”

  A shrill laugh escaped her as she set her hand on her hip and prepared for battle.

  “You want to help?” she asked, using air quotes. She stepped forward and poked Jett in the chest. “I don’t know what it is with you rich fucks and denying what you want until you make us spell it out for you. It’s like some kind of shame factor for you. Let’s just get this out in the open. I’ve got holes. Use them how you please while I crash here for a while.”

  She blew past us and walked in the house. Jett turned his wide eyes to me, and I almost laughed from the comical look on his face.

  “She’s got holes, Jett, use them how you please,” I repeated with a slight grin.

  “Christ,” Jett mumbled, walking into the house.

  For some reason, I knew I was going to get along with Barbara very well.

  “Nice digs. Homeboy’s got swag,” Barbara said, taking in the house. “I mean, chrome and leather, nice touch.” She turned toward Jett and looked him up and down. “What’s your worth?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Jett responded, looking almost offended. What did he expect from a girl like Barbara? She was rough around the edges and had zero tact.

  “Hmm, are you going to have that stick up your ass the entire time I’m here?” Barbara asked. “Because honestly, I don’t prefer to work around it, but I can do it. It wouldn’t be my first time fucking a rich boy like you. At least you have the decency to put me up in your dubs. So where am I sleeping?”

  “Barbara, you’re here to better yourself, to earn an education, and make something of your life,” Jett offered, trying to help her realize his intentions.

  A pop of gum echoed in the room from Barbara as she crossed her arms over her chest and analyzed us with a suspicious look.

  She pointed to us and asked, “You two an item?”

  “Fuck no,” I said quickly, making Jett turn toward me with a half-smile.

  “Too good for me?” he asked.

  “We’re not doing this,” I replied. “Barbara, I will show you to your room.”

  “Oh, my own butler. How fancy,” she sassed me.

  I turned quickly on my heel and got in her face. “I’m not your fucking butler, and I’m not your friend. I’m here to make sure you do what you’re supposed to do and follow the rules. Understand?”

  The grit in my voice made Barbara gulp slightly before she nodded. I was walking her up the stairs when Jett called.

  “Before you leave, Barbara, you will no longer go by your born name. Now that you’re a Jett Girl, you are to be elusive. You are an ambiguous human being now. The only people who will know who you actually are, are Kace and myself. From now on, you will be known as Babs. Your past is just that—your past. This is the first step to a new beginning. After you leave the Lafayette Club, you will have an education and a purpose in life. Your days on the streets are done. That life is behind you. It’s time to move on.”

  “Ehhh, okay,” Barbara answered skeptically as she followed me up the stairs, clearly not motivated by Jett’s speech.

  Even though Jett was talking directly to Barbara, I couldn’t help but think he was also trying to get through to me as well. A new beginning? There were no new beginnings where I was concerned.

  I led Barbara, or Babs, to her room and opened the door for her. The space was exceedingly nicer than mine. A wall of windows flanked the right side, bringing in a great deal of sunlight. Deep orange curtains framed the windows, while sepia-toned pictures of New Orleans graced the walls. The bedding was white, and the walls were light orange, making the room almost look like a Creamsicle. It was a room that would bring happiness and solace, a room I didn’t need to be in.

  “Th
is is your room. Inside the closet—”

  “This is my room?” Babs asked, cutting me off. She walked around the space in awe, taking in the small touches and pops of color.

  “Yes, this is your room,” I answered, not wanting to hang around for her to clearly cry. I could see it happening in the way she walked around her new space, taking everything in. Her eyes beautifully glistened in awe. Nope, I didn’t do crying women. “Like I was saying, there are clothes in the closet, a bathroom to the side with makeup—”

  “This is all for me?” she interrupted again. “What’s the catch?”

  “There is no catch. Jett wants to help you.”

  “Why? Why me?”

  If I’d known this was going to be a twenty-questions kind of thing, I wouldn’t have signed up for it. I didn’t do social interactions, either. “I don’t know,” I responded, trying to end the conversation.

  “You’re lying. You know why he chose me, so tell me.”

  Running a hand over my face, I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Babs. Maybe you remind him of someone from his past, but that’s not a story for me to tell. I’m here to make sure the club runs properly, that you’re minding your business and doing what you’re supposed to do.”

  Suspiciously she eyed me and then said, “What happened to you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She looked into my eyes, her face relaxed, and some kind of realization hit her. “You’re Kace Haywood, the boxer.”

  “We’re done here,” I said, walking away. “I will be around tomorrow morning with a contract for you to sign. Don’t get into any fucking trouble tonight.”

  My chest had constricted around my heart when she recognized me. It was still very raw. The scandal still swallowed me whole at night, making it hard to sleep. I didn’t need to relive it with this woman whom I’d just met and who frankly needed a shower, because she smelled like piss, and her hair looked like it had been knotted for days.

  “I can understand the need to hide,” Babs said as I reached the door. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe a word of it. I’ve watched your career, and from what I’ve seen, you’ve been nothing but a hard and honest worker. You got fucked, just like me. You might not want to be my friend, Kace, but just so you know, we are very much alike. If you need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

  Without turning around and acknowledging her, I left. What I needed was to get the hell out of her room before I broke down in front of her. I was prideful, like Jett, and never showed weakness, but the lump in my throat was growing at an alarming rate, making it impossible to breathe. I needed to find some alone time, away from the entire world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  My present…

  Everything in my body was telling me to turn around, to forget the little agreement I’d made with Lyla and walk away, but for some godforsaken reason, I found myself standing outside Lyla’s shitty apartment, about to knock on her door.

  I’d spent zero time getting ready for this. I didn’t want her thinking I was attempting to make something of this date, so I’d thrown on a pair of black jeans, a V-necked gray shirt with the front sloppily tucked in the waistband of my jeans, which showed off my worn out black belt, and then to top it all off, I put on my old Vans that had seen better days. I was the epitome of casual.

  Running my hands through my hair, I took a deep breath and knocked on her door.

  While I waited for her to answer, I looked around the dump she was living in with disapproval. I was surprised the building was still standing, it looked so dilapidated. There was some definitely illegal business being conducted on the first floor, and her neighbor on the second floor apparently didn’t care about the blood splatters on his door.

  I didn’t want Lyla living here. I fucking hated everything about it, actually. Why she had to be so stubborn and not accept Jett’s offer for her to help out at the community center drove me mad. She could have such a better life if she just accepted the help.

  Fumbling of locks brought me out of my thoughts, and I tried to remove the crease in my brow that had formed from taking in her dwelling.

  Lyla whipped open the door and smiled brightly at me. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, brown ankle boots, and a cream tank top that was short in the front and long in the back so her midriff was peeking out. Her breasts were most likely pushed up by her bra because they crested at the neckline of her shirt, making me quite aware of their size. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, exposing her gorgeous neck. My mouth watered just thinking about running my tongue up and down it.

  “Mmm, you look good,” she said, grabbing her purse and shutting the door to her apartment. Before she turned and locked her door, she stepped into me, pressed her hand on my chest, and lightly kissed my lips. A waft of feminine perfume hit me hard, causing me to yearn more than I ever wanted.

  She turned quickly to lock her doors before I could even consider deepening her kiss. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep myself from touching her as I observed the perfect curve of her ass. There were only so many ways I could control myself.

  Turning around, she had a big smile on her face that almost cracked the neutral look I was trying to portray. Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Where are we going?” I responded, not sure what she had planned.

  “What?” she asked in an offended tone. “You didn’t plan a date? You’re supposed to take me out.”

  I scratched my head and thought about it for a second. Shit, was I really supposed to plan something? I couldn’t remember the last time I actually went on a date. I had no clue where to even begin. “I’m going to be honest with you, Lyla. I don’t do dates, so I have no clue where to fucking start.”

  “Well, this is a lost cause. Have a good night,” she said, disappointment in her voice.

  “Wait,” I said, pulling on her arm. “Help me out. Where do I start?”

  Why had I just said that? Her turning around on me was my out. Did I really want to go on this date? The realization was too much to even think about, so I blocked those thoughts out of my mind and brought her closer to me. Once again, that ‘gotchya’ smile greeted me, and I knew she’d played me, just like she had in the Haze Room.

  “You’re the devil, you know that?”

  She laughed and linked her arm into mine. “Take me to dinner first, Kace. Anywhere you want to go.”

  “Anywhere?” I asked as I led her down the stairs.

  “If you take me to Kitten’s Castle, I will castrate you,” she said with humor in her voice.

  “Shit, now you took all the surprise out of it.”

  “Kace…,” she warned.

  I chuckled, a foreign concept to me. It almost felt good, I almost felt light. For a short period of time, I actually felt like the weight of the world wasn’t sitting on my shoulders.

  I led her out onto Bourbon Street, guided her past the already drunk people enjoying the raunchiness of the French Quarter, and walked her down Toulouse Street to one of my favorite restaurants.

  “How was your day?” she asked, striking up conversation, something I wasn’t good at, at all.

  “Fine,” I replied, not really knowing how to elaborate.

  “Okay, want to tell me more?”

  “Not really,” I replied, opening the door to The Chartres House that was tucked away in a salmon-colored building. I ushered her in, not letting her respond to my inability to discuss my day like a normal person.

  “Will it be just the two of you?” the hostess asked.

  “Yes. Can we have the table over there in the corner?” I nodded at my favorite seat. The restaurant was small and had a bar that took up most of the space, not allowing for too many diners at once. There were small cabaret tables with either two or four seats each, and when the weather was nice, the doors that faced the street were open. But the wind was a bitch today, and the doors were closed, blocking out the bustle
of the street, which I was grateful for.

  “Sure thing. Right this way.” The hostess led us to our seats, and I took the one in the back corner, where I was able to look out over the restaurant. I never liked having my back turned to a room so I couldn’t see what was behind me. The hostess handed us menus. “Enjoy.”

  Feeling uncomfortable, since this whole dating scene felt like foreign territory to me, I shifted in my chair and asked, “Have you ever been here before?”

  Lyla’s light green eyes looked at me. “They have the best boudin. Good pick, Kace.”

  “You like boudin?” I asked, a little shocked. I wouldn’t have picked Lyla for a sausage lover.

  “What’s not to like? Meat stuffed in a little roll you have to suck on. It all works for me.”

  Shaking my head, I was about to respond when the waitress appeared. “Hello. My name is Ana. I will be serving you. We have a special today on crawfish with two sides if you’re interested. Can I get you something to drink to start off with?”

  “Water,” I said briskly.

  “I’ll take water as well, thank you.” Once the waitress left, Lyla turned her gaze on me and said, “Can you lighten up just a bit? You nearly barked at that poor waitress.”

  “I did not bark,” I defended myself.

  “Kace, you could have at least smiled.”

  “I don’t really smile.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen you smile.”

  “You caught me in a weak moment when you saw that,” I countered, a grin trying to peek past my strong façade.

  “You’re frustrating,” Lyla huffed, putting her menu in front of her and blocking her beautiful face from my view.

  This was going just as well as I thought it would. My awkwardness and inability to relax was shining brightly as silence fell between us. I thought about saying something to break the tension that quickly fell upon our table, but I had no clue what to talk about.