Page 115 of Heavy Is The Crown

Krys leaned in, her voice a little softer but still firm. “Listen. I care because whether or not I want to, you’re in my world now. I brought you into my space, my business, my people. That means I need to know who I’m dealing with. The real you. Not just the version you show when it’s convenient.”

Kenyatta let her words settle. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his beard.

“Man…” he muttered, shaking his head. “You somethin’ else, you know that?”

Krys smiled. “Oh, trust me, I know.”

The tension wasn’t gone, but it waned momentarily.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had nowhere to run.

Krys had him cornered; not in a bad way, but in a way that forced him to stop dodging, stop deflecting.

Honestly, he was tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of acting like the past didn’t still have its claws in him.

So, finally, he exhaled and said, “A’ight. You wanna know? I’ll tell you.”

Krys didn’t move, didn’t say a word. She just waited. Watched him closely.

For the first time, Kenyatta let the words come out.

“I was sixteen the first time I got caught up,” he muttered, voice low. “Not for anything major. Just some petty shit; boosting, fighting, dumb decisions. That’s how it always starts, though, right?”

Krys said nothing; just listened.

Kenyatta glanced at the table, rubbing a thumb over the wood grain.

“Then I got deeper in. Started hustlin’ for real. Ain’t have no choice, really. Moms was struggling, Pops was in and out. And as for me…” He scoffed. “Shit, a nigga was just good at it. Too good. Thought I was invincible. Thought I was smarter than everybody.”

A pause.

A sharp exhale.

“Then, boom...Caught with weight and a strap. Feds wasn’t playing. Seven years.”

Krys digested that, then, she asked, soft but steady, “You slipped?”

Kenyatta chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Yeah. I did…was a lil’ reckless.”

“And now…?” Her question hung in the air.

He wasn’t sure what she was asking. His brow wrinkled. “Now what?”

“The recklessness?”

He ruminated for a second. “I don’t think that’s me anymore.”

“How so?”

“Prison ain’t change me overnight,” he admitted. “I went in thinking I was gon’ come right back out and get back to it. But time…time do somethin’ to you.”

He finally looked Krys in the eye.

“I lost a lot in there. Friends. Family. Years I can’t get back. And when I came home?” He shook his head. “Shit was different. Everybody moved on, everything changed. And me? I ain’t know where I fit no more. Still don’t.”

Krys leaned forward slightly, her gaze unreadable. “So, what now?” she asked. “What’s next?”

Kenyatta licked his lips, running a hand down his beard. “I’m trying,” he muttered. “Trying to move different. Trying to keep my head down. But…”

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