“Back to my place. Why don’t you ride with Lenox,” Kendrick said.
Lenox’s jaw tightened, followed by a soft groan. He didn’t care whether or not Paris heard him. “Listen, man, thanks for helping Carlos pack ‘em in tonight. But I really think I should be getting home. I’d like to have one evening when I’m not getting into it with Ashley.”
“For the thousandth time, do you have the information I’ve been asking for?”
Lenox took out a small folded piece of paper from inside his wallet and handed it to Kendrick, who unfolded the paper and peered at it, looking satisfied with what he read.
“Been doing a lot of thinking, and I don’t know how much longer I can go along with this. The shit’s really messing with my head. I think I should just get it over with and go to the police.”
Lenox’s eyebrows raised. “For what?”
“Because this has gone on long enough, and it’s the right thing to do.”
“Look, I got rid of your car like you asked me to. You’re good.”
“Wait a sec’, I never asked you to get rid of anything.”
Lenox ran his fingers over the smoothness of his shaved head. “Yeah, well, you never said not to either. It’s done. There’s no going back on this.”
“Still, it’s the right thing to do.”
“Okay, fine. Say you go to the cops. It’ll come out that I helped you.”
“I won’t say anything. And I’ll put that on everything I hold dear.”
“Dude, these things always have a way of coming out, whether you want them to or not.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“And you don’t know that it won’t. I’ve got a family to think about. What are they going to do if you decide to talk? Like I said before, it’s taken care of.”
Kendrick was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Listen, why don’t you drop my sister at my place. I need to smooth things out with Sabathany. She’s pissed, and thinks I was encouraging the ladies in there. After you drop Paris, then go on home to your family,” Kendrick insisted. His tone was less arrogant and more appreciative.
Lenox nodded his understanding. He threw a glance at Paris from over Kendrick’s shoulder. “Hey, Paris, I guess you’re riding with me,” Lenox called to her, not sounding too happy about it.
“I’m sure there are worse things,” Paris said. “This isn’t a delight for me, either.”
“Good. You can suffer in silence. Now get your ass in the car!”
Once Kendrick and Sabathany buckled in, he started the rented car and drove up alongside Lenox’s. Paris let her passenger window down.
“You two play nice,” Kendrick playfully chided them. “Last one there is a rotten egg.”
“What are we, in the fifth grade?” Paris asked.
“All right, see y’all in a few,” Kendrick said before speeding off.
Paris rolled the window back up. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you have to act like you want to throw up every time you see me?” Paris asked, sounding hurt.
Lenox took her hand and kissed it. “Sorry, baby. Just don’t want him figuring things out.”
“Maybe he already suspects something. Why else make me ride with you?” Paris placed the kissed hand to her cheek as though she intended to cherish it forever.
“Trust me he doesn’t know anything.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Just a vibe I get. Say, did you ask him for that loan yet?”
Paris sighed. “Not yet.”
“Tick-tock, don’t you think you ought to get that handled?”
“Don’t you think you ought to tell your wife you’re leaving her?”
Lenox faced the driver’s side window. “That’s not fair. I can’t just walk in and tell her I’m leaving her. It requires some thought.”
“Asking my brother for this loan requires some thought, too.”
“We’ve been over this before. I’m not telling Ashley a damn thing until you take care of that situation. Period.” Lenox started the car and drove away. Regretting the harshness in his voice, he held Paris’s hand for the duration of the ride. By the time they arrived at Kendrick’s apartment he snuck one last look at her as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
“I’m sorry about how I acted earlier. I’ll try and dial it back a bit. But you know I didn’t mean it.”
“Why don’t you come in for at least one drink?” Paris said.
“I gotta get home. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”
Paris smiled at him, but said nothing. No words seemed necessary. The man she loved since high school understood how she felt. That’s all she could ask from him. This time she kissed his hand, and placed it to her heart before releasing it.
NINE
Kayla stopped for a moment, maybe two, for which Kendrick was grateful. He took those precious moments to rest. But, before the dryness left his throat, she was off again, running up the hillside, towards the sun.
“Maybe Kayla isn’t her name,” Kendrick thought. He checked the folded paper from his wallet for reassurance that he wasn’t calling the child by the wrong name. The paper said Kayla Jones, seven-year old daughter of Yvette and Antwon Jones. Maybe if he told her that he knew her parents she would let him catch up to her. But that would be some weird tactic employed by the most depraved child molesters, wouldn’t it? Kendrick wasn’t a child molester. He just wanted the chance to tell Kayla he was sorry.
“Jesus, Kayla, you’re killing me! Will you please stop? I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
This time Kayla giggled as she waved. The cotton candy pink of her outfit was so vibrant that it made him crave the confection. Suddenly a long plastic bag of pink, white and purple cotton candy materialized in his hand. He offered it up, hoping it would keep Kayla still. It did.
Kendrick’s tread was wobbly. His heart wanted to explode inside his chest. Despite the hurt, he held the cotton candy high. All he needed was for Kayla to wait just a few more seconds. Then, she would see into his spirit; she would know that he meant no harm.
This was the closest he ever got to her when they played this game before. Usually she remained smiling. This time her smile faded, and she backed away as though she knew danger lurked. Kayla ran up to the top of the hill, toward the dulling sun, then disappeared down the other side.
With the once raised bag of cotton candy now flapping at his side, he ignored the pain in his chest, eventually making it to the top. But there was no sun by the time he arrived. The other side of the hill led into a forest. Kendrick knew only bad things happened there. He wondered how many dead bodies had been given over to it.
“Kayla!” Kendrick cried out. He looked toward the sky as unusually large black birds passed overhead. The sound of their wings flapping drowned out his call. Twigs snapped beneath his feet, bringing his attention back to Kayla, who stood only a few paces away from him. The pink of her outfit turned the color of soaked blood. Her messy hair was covered in dried, crumbled leaves. Kendrick waited for her to smile again, but she collapsed to the ground, her bones smashing on contact.
Hyper flies swarmed the body as Kendrick delicately turned it over. Kayla’s once angelic face disintegrated into a caving dust. As the disturbed maggots fed on her body, Kayla’s jogging suit moved in ripples. More of Kayla’s flesh broke open while the maggots taunted Kendrick by the sound of their munching…
The nightmares began the night of the accident. At first he dreamed of a giggling Kayla running through sunny pastures. He almost got the impression that things were good for her in the afterlife. Now his dreams became overrun with images of her mangled corpse transmogrified into nourishment for bugs.
Kendrick bolted awake, his entire side of the bed soaked from sweat. Sabathany was still asleep. He got out of bed and went to the kitchen. Kendrick swallowed hard and often, fighting the inclination to spew. He ran the remaining paces to the sin
k. Multiple whiskey sours, tequila, and partially digested grilled cheese sandwiches oozed from his mouth in a saffron, textured paste. Kendrick paused, bracing for a second rush from his still opened mouth.
Satisfied that he had gotten it all out, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sprayed the vomit away with the side sprayer. Emotion remained caught in his throat. He wept. Kendrick tried to quiet his bellow, placing the same vomit streaked hand over his mouth, but the tears continued, and the guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach since the day Kayla died in the street finally moved.
“Oh my goodness, Kenny, what’s the matter?” Paris asked.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were still up,” Kendrick said, revealing a soggy face. “I was watching Mrs. Doubtfire when I heard you.”
“I’ll be fine. Go on back and watch your movie.”
“You are not fine. A grown man doesn’t cry out for no reason.”
Of all his siblings, Kendrick felt closest to Paris who was two years his junior. To him, both she and their mother were the only family members genuinely happy for his growing success.
“Instead of standing here in the dark by yourself, why don’t you come watch the movie? It might get your mind off whatever’s bothering you.”
A second wave of emotion attacked Kendrick at his core. He doubled over as though having been kicked in the gut. He shook his head; tears rained from his face.
“What is going on?”
“I did something really bad,” Kendrick whispered.
Paris stroked his back. “What did you do?”
Kendrick shook his head again.
“You can tell me.” Paris stood in a judgment-free zone like a beacon of understanding.
“I’m afraid you won’t love me anymore if I tell you.”
Paris became fearful, but tried to remain strong for the both of them. “You listen to me. There’s nothing you could ever tell me that would make me love you any less. That’s a lesson I learned from you. I will never stop loving you. Do you understand me?”
Kendrick’s secret sat on the tip of his tongue. He imagined feeling lighter once he cast it out.
“You’re scaring me, Kenny. Just tell me.”
Kendrick sunk to the floor, putting his palms to his sweaty forehead. “I killed someone.”
“Wait. What?” Paris tried yanking her brother up to eye level, but he wouldn’t follow the tug. “Kenny, you look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t just say what I thought you said.”
While Kendrick remained on bended knee, his face shadowed. Paris found it difficult to stand herself. She stooped back to Kendrick’s level, waiting for him to raise his head.
“Okay. The Kenny I know wouldn’t do something like that unless there was a reason. What did they do to you? Did they have dirt on you? Was it self-defense?”
Finally, Kendrick raised his head, looking less like a leading man and more like the brother Paris remembered from her youth. “That hit and run involving the little girl…I’m responsible.”
“Kenny!” Paris dropped his hands and stood back up. The sudden yelling out startled Kendrick.
“Shhh! Sabathany’s asleep. You can’t say anything. Paris, please, you gotta keep this between us!”
“That’s not fair, Kenny. I wasn’t expecting you to tell me something like that!”
“Paris, please. Keep your voice down.”
Paris backed away from her brother. “Did you talk to the police?”
“I thought about it.”
“What do you mean, you thought about it?”
Kendrick couldn’t explain what it meant. Quite possibly he didn’t know himself. “Please don’t say anything.”
“You took away that little girl’s chance at life.”
“I know that. You asked about me going to the police. I did think about it, but I figured since Lenox got rid of the vehicle…”
“Wait a minute! You made him a part of this?”
“I didn’t make him do anything! After the accident, I called him to talk. I dunno, I guess I wanted someone to talk to before I went to the cops. He was the one who came up with the idea. Before I knew it, he’d taken over. I was still in shock by what had happened, I just went along with it.”
Paris bit her lip. She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but Kendrick couldn’t bear another question.
“Look, don’t think this has been easy for me. I’ve been sick about this, but, Lenox says getting rid of the car was for the best. I mean, things are going so well with my career right now. I’m about to blow up. You know I’ve been grinding for the past five years, and my hard work is finally paying off.”
Paris didn’t look at him, but she nodded silently.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to make this right. I was thinking about setting up some trust fund for the family. I wasn’t going to put my name on it, and they don’t have to know it’s from me.”
“You think throwing money at this will make it better?”
Kendrick thought for two beats. “With time, maybe.” He now stood perfectly on his own. “You won’t say anything, will you?”
As Paris faced him, she felt a lump pass in her throat when she swallowed. There was remorse in her brother’s eyes, and she took some comfort from that. The Kendrick she knew always apologized immediately after making her cry when they were children. That Kendrick was too sensitive of a person to deliberately kill a child, or anyone for that matter. However, he had killed someone. Paris hoped he would do what he said he was going to do. “I won’t say anything,” she said.
Kendrick’s tears flowed again, this time from relief. “You won’t?”
Paris shook her head.
“Thank you.”
Paris watched her brother stir with gratitude. “Just make sure you do what you said you’re going to do.”
Kendrick nodded, then sighed relief before rolling his shoulders to break up their tension. “I’m going to fix this. I’ll make it right. But do me a favor, don’t let Lenox know I told you.”
Paris sighed exasperatedly. She noticed desperation return to his face. “Fine, I won’t say anything.” As Kendrick’s face relaxed again, Paris decided if she was going to ask for the money she needed to do it soon. “Listen, if you want me to keep all of this to myself, it’s gonna cost you.”
Kendrick’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“My silence comes at a price,” Paris said.
“You’re blackmailing me?”
“Not at all.”
“Sounds that way to me.”
“I look at it as one hand washing the other.”
“All the fights in school I got into defending your ass, and this is how you repay me?”
“You can’t look at it like that. Think of it as one favor repaying another. I’ve decided to take care of that situation we talked about a couple of months ago, but I need money to do it.”
“I hope blackmailing me is worth it. How much do you need?”
“Don’t call it that. Look, I was going to ask you for a loan. At least this way you can say we’re even. Give me $35,000 and I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
“What if years down the road you have a change of heart?”
Paris looked directly into Kendrick’s disappointed eyes. “I won’t.”
Kendrick reached beneath the kitchen island and grabbed the whiskey. He didn’t know how his stomach would take it now; he just knew the situation called for whiskey.
“Want one?” Kendrick asked.
“No.”
“This doesn’t sound like you. What changed your mind?”
Paris looked away, partly from shame, and partly from knowing there was no going back. She knew she had to tell Kendrick the truth. “Actually, I think I will take that shot,” she said, motioning toward the bottle.
After taking his swig directly from the bottle he passed it to her. As she downed the whiskey, she noticed Kendrick’s body language become closed off.
�
��Lenox won’t leave his wife until I take care of it. And, I’m willing to do it because he loves me.”
Hearing Lenox’s name was jarring. Was this the same Lenox who back in the day had special ordered posters of Pam Grier plastered on his walls, who owned bootleg copies of every Blaxploitation movie made, and whose own swag came from watching his favorite Blaxploitation actor, Richard Roundtree? Those movies had been Lenox’s escape from his own family’s dysfunction. As a kid, he had watched helplessly as his father left his mother to make a life with another woman.
“Wait, wait, wait! My best friend, Lenox?” Kendrick almost stammered.
Paris nodded.
“Did he put you up to this…asking for the money?”
“Of course not.” Paris refused to meet his gaze. “I mean, not exactly.”
Kendrick crossed his arms to keep from hitting something. “How long have you two been…?”
“Since high school.”
“Way back then? And neither of you said a goddamn thing?”
“What were you expecting us to say?”
“So what, did he seduce you?”
Paris downed a second swig of whiskey. Thinking for two beats she said, “Remember all those times you used to leave Lenox downstairs in the TV room with me? You’d go flirt with the girls who came to the house looking for you. That’s when it started. I used to give him Little Debbie snack cakes to sit and watch me do my impersonations of the group TLC. After a while, he stopped expecting food, and just started to enjoy watching me.”
“This isn’t right. None of this is right!” Kendrick pounded his fists against the counter-top.
“After what you just told me, now your moral compass kicks in?”
Sabathany appeared in the kitchen entryway. She was groggy from a deep sleep. “What are you two doing up?”
“I’m sorry, babe. Did we wake you?”
“No, I just wanted some water.” She bumped her knee against the island. “Ouch!”
“You all right?” Paris asked.
“Yeah.” Sabathany motioned to be let through. She reached for a glass from the cabinet. Paris and Kendrick exchanged quick glances between each other, watching as Sabathany drank her water.
The Best Possible Angle Page 7
