Page 111 of Heavy Is The Crown

Krys had always been an observer. She noticed details, read between the lines, picked up on things people thought they were hiding. And right now, she was noticing Kenyatta.

Not just the way he carried himself, always smooth, always unbothered, always two steps ahead. Not just the way he made himself at home in her world, as if he had belonged in it all along. But it was the way he moved. Who he let in; who he didn’t.

She had a good grasp of who he was and wasn’t in the streets, but she wanted to know more than that. Who was Kenyatta when nobody was watching?

She didn’t even think twice before sending the text.

[Krys] 6:02PM— You free for lunch tomorrow?

[Kenyatta] 6:07PM— Oh, we doing lunch dates now?

[Krys] 6:09PM— I’m trying to feed your hungry ass. Just say yes or no.

[Kenyatta] 6:10PM— Ight, damn. What’s the occasion?

[Krys] 6:13PM— Do I need one?

[Kenyatta] 6:17PM— You ain’t slick, Krys. You up to sumthin.

[Krys] 6:17PM— You scared?

[Kenyatta] 6:20PM— Girl, please. Set it up. I’m there.

She stood barefoot in her bonus room, wrapped in a silk robe, twirling her phone between her fingers as she stared at the screen. The message thread with Kenyatta was still open, the last message sitting there like a challenge she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

Musa, stretched out idly across the floor, lifted his massive head, his dark eyes locked on her like he already knew what was up.

Krys exhaled, shaking her head. “What you looking at me like that for?”

Musa huffed, resting his head back down on his paws, his massive chest rising and falling with a slow sigh.

Krys smiled lazily, stepping closer, reaching down to scratch behind his ear. “You judging me? Hmm?”

Musa’s tail thumped against the floor, but he didn’t move, still watching her like she was making this too complicated.

Krys exhaled, moving to the sleek black sectional and curling her legs underneath her. “I know, I know…” she muttered, tilting her head as she rubbed her fingers over her temple. “I don’t even know why I’m overthinking this. It’s just lunch.”

Musa yawned dramatically.

Krys side-eyed him. “Oh, now you got an opinion?”

Musa let out a low grunt, rolling onto his side, completely unbothered.

Krys shook her head, staring back down at her phone. “See, that’s the thing though. It ain’t just lunch,” she admitted. Her voice was quieter now, more to herself than to him. “Not with him.”

She didn’t like this. The way Kenyatta lingered in her thoughts. The way she found herself replaying moments, his voice, his smirk, the way he had looked at her the other night, like he already knew what she was fighting.

And then there was Kaliyah. That little girl had softened her in a way that nobody ever had. It had come from left field.Krysta? Liking kids for real?

Krys let out a dry laugh, leaning her head back against the couch. “This some bullshit.”

Musa lifted his head again, sniffing the air, then lazily blinked at her.

She groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “A rich, bad bitch like me, losing sleep over some ex-street nigga. Can you believe that?”

Musa grumbled and stretched, his paws sliding against the floor.

Krys exhaled, rubbing his broad head as she continued. “I don’t do this, Musa. I don’t chase niggas, I don’t wonder about them. I don’t make space for them. But Mr. Hayes?” She chewed the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “He’s making me think about shit I shouldn’t be thinking about.”

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