Page 21 of Heavy Is The Crown

He hesitated with a hint of tease in his eyes. “Unless you feel like staying.”

“Yeah, cousin,” Tyra chimed in. “Come in for a drink or sumthin’. The night’s still young.”

Krys sighed defeatedly. Hell, why not. She could use a drink.

**********

Krys had no idea why she let Tyra pull her into this shit.

Maybe it was Kenyatta’s annoying, cocky little smirk, or maybe it was the way his friends, his people, reacted to him. It was intriguing. The way they lit up when he walked inside, the way conversations shifted, energy sharpened; like the room had just been waiting for him to arrive.

They called himYatta. Like his name carried weight. Like he was still that nigga.

The house smelled like Hennessy, weed, and too much cologne; the walls filled with old posters, a big-screen TV mounted but slightly tilted, and mismatched furniture that had seen better days. Yet, despite its imperfections, this was home to them.

Tez was already rolling up at the kitchen table, a bottle of Rémy in front of him. The tattooed dude from outside, Duke, apparently was in a deep convo about a dice game gone wrong last weekend. Others were scattered throughout: cousins, homies, and a few chicks perched on laps, sipping dark liquor with acrylics clicking against plastic cups.

Krys took it all in. She wasn’t uncomfortable. She knew how to move in any room. But her attention was caught up in the way they all watched Kenyatta. Respect was in their eyes. Not fear, but something close.

A kind of reverence.

“Nigga, look at you, back like you never left!” Kev-O called out, slapping hands with Kenyatta before pulling him into a back-slapping hug. “Ain’t seen you in a minute, Yatta. Thought you got too good for us.”

Kenyatta chuckled, low and easy. “Nah, never that. Just moving different.”

Tez nodded, understanding the weight behind those words. Movin’ different. Meaning, not in the game no more. Didn’t mean they would let him forget, though.

“You still that nigga,” Duke chimed in, lifting his cup. “Don’t let these niggas tell you different. You was on your way to owning the whole city before they sat you down.”

Kenyatta’s jaw ticked, but his smirk never wavered. “Yeah. Look where that got me.”

They laughed, but Krys saw it. The way his shoulders stiffened. The way he took a slow breath, like he was reminding himself to stay in control.

They still saw him as who he was; not who he was trying to be. And from the way Kenyatta’s jaw tightened, Krys knew that shit weighed on him.

Tyra was eating this up. She plopped down onto the couch, side-eyeing Krys before breaking out into a big grin. “You peepin’ how they treatin’ yo man, cuzzo? Like a king. I’m peepin’ it.”

Krys folded her arms, playing along. “Yeah. Real royal.”

Kenyatta glanced at her, amusement flashing in his eyes. Oh, she was funny now?

Duke leaned forward, grinning. “Aye, for real, though, how you bag this one?” He gestured toward Krys, eyes lingering a little too long. “She don’t seem like your usual type.”

Kenyatta exhaled a laugh, throwing an arm over the back of the chair like this was light work. “She wasn’t easy, that’s fo’ sho’.”

Krys snapped her head toward him, eyes narrowing. “Oh?” she mused, tilting her head. “That’s how we telling the story?”

Kenyatta smirked, relishing her irritation.

Tez chuckled, pouring him a drink before glancing at Krys. “You solid, shorty? We treat our brother’s girl like family, long as she treat him right.”

Krys met his gaze without hesitation. “I’m good,” she said smoothly. “But I don’t need a welcome speech. I know how to handle mine.”

Tez raised his brows, impressed. “Oh yeah? I like her.”

Kev-O nodded. “She got a lil’ bite to her.”

Kenyatta chuckled, shaking his head. “More than a lil’.”

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