Page 113 of Heavy Is The Crown

“Including Jay-1?”

He gave her a look. “You already know the answer to that.”

Krys hummed. “And you told him no.”

Kenyatta nodded, fingers drumming against the table. “Told a lotta people no.”

“Why?”

Kenyatta studied her for a second, then leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You want the short answer or the long one?”

Krys arched a brow. “Both.”

Kenyatta chuckled, shaking his head. “Short answer? I got a daughter.”

Krys leaned back. “And the long answer?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table before finally saying, “‘Cause I actually want somethin’ different this time.”

Krys didn’t respond immediately. She just watched him, trying to gauge if that answer was real.

He held her stare, unapologetic, unflinching. It was real.

Their food arrived, the plates steaming, smelling like heaven and money.

Krys twirled a piece of ravioli onto her fork, glancing at him. “And what does ‘different’ look like?”

Kenyatta cut into his rigatoni, lifting his fork. “Something legit. Something I can build. Something that don’t end with me doing another seven years.”

Krys let that sit between them. Then she asked, “You think you can really stay out of it?”

Kenyatta smirked. “You doubt me?”

Krys gave it right back. “I doubt anybody who says they’re done but still got the game’s number saved.”

Kenyatta chuckled, shaking his head. “You ain’t easy.”

“Never claimed to be.”

They ate in silence for a moment, the conversation heavy but not uncomfortable.

She asked, “So, you ever going to tell me why I couldn’t find you on social media?”

Kenyatta stopped mid-reach for another roll. His smirk didn’t drop right away, but it did shift slightly, his mind catching up to where she was trying to take this.

“Damn,” he muttered, leaning back in the booth. “Why you looking up a nigga’s social media?”

Krys raised a brow, setting her glass down. “Yatta. Don’t play dumb.”

He huffed out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I ain’t got social media,” he said smoothly. “Never been my thing.”

Krys folded her arms, tapping her nails against the table. “Or maybe you just don’t want nobody finding shit on you.”

Kenyatta leaned back in the booth, rolling his tongue across his teeth. He could already see where this was going.

“I mean,” he started, picking up his drink, “I ain’t never been the type to post my every move. Social media just seem like another way for people to be all in my business.”

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