Page 119 of Heavy Is The Crown

She grabbed her phone, snapping three mirror selfies in each outfit and dropping them in the group chat with Ray, Sydnee, and Meisha.

[Krys]11:53AM— Which one?

Meisha was the first to respond.

[Meisha]11:54AM— Btch…is this a barbecue or a soft launch?!

Krys rolled her eyes, waiting for Ray to respond.

[Sydnee]11:54AM— Option 3. Casual, but fine as hell. Like you not pressed, but you’re a problem.

[Ray]11:56AM— Facts. And let’s be real, you already a topic at this barbecue. You might as well kill ‘em effortless.

Krys smiled to herself. She couldn’t argue with them; they were right.

She turned toward Musa, tilting her head. “What you think, big boy?”

Musa blinked slowly, then yawned; long and drawn out, his sharp teeth flashing before he smacked his lips and rested his chin on his paws.

Krys scoffed. “See, this why I don’t ask you nothing.”

She settled on the dress and sneaker combo, knowing it was the perfect balance.

Now, the next dilemma was what the hell was she bringing? She wasn’t about to show up empty-handed. But she also wasn’t about to be in nobody’s kitchen cooking all day.

She grabbed her keys and headed to the store, picking up two bottles of premium liquor, because duh; a dessert platter, because it looked fancy and she wasn’t about to be in the kitchen baking; and a case of bottled water, because somebody had to be responsible.

By the time she got back home, she threw everything in a nice bag, grabbed her sunglasses, and gave herself one last look in the mirror.

She looked good if she had to say so herself; yet she still felt that tiny flicker of nerves. She was stepping into Kenyatta’s world now and it made everything seem real now. No pretending. No games. No deals.

Musa let out another huff, sensing her thoughts.

Krys glanced down at him, smile tilted and teasing. “You think I’m doing too much?”

Musa simply blinked.

Krys shook her head. “Yeah, yeah. Mind your business and bring your tail on.”

She grabbed her bag and her keys, took the lead, and took a deep breath.

She was ready.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

**********

The air was thick with Deuce-Ace energy, a constant, unfiltered mix of tension and movement. The air smelled like burnt rubber, stale liquor, and the faint bite of gunpowder that never really faded from these streets.

Outside Tez’s house, Kenyatta stood, arms crossed, head slightly down, his thumb idly scrolling through his phone. He had just checked the time when he heard the low purr of an engine creeping down the block.

Smooth. Controlled. Not the loud, reckless growl of an old-school trap car.

Kenyatta already knew who it was. When he glanced up, his lips automatically curved into a smirk. That white Porsche Macan rolled up slow, gleaming under the Trinity Bay sun like it had just come off the lot.

Even before Krys fully stopped, he could tell she was showing out without even trying.

Heads turned and stared because cars like this were rarely seen in a hood like this unless they belonged to somebody important. And right now, that somebody important was Krysta Davis.

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