Page 79 of Heavy Is The Crown

Kenyatta shook his head but smirked despite himself.

The ceremony was long as hell, but it was worth it when Sydnee’s little brother crossed the stage, snatching his diploma with a proud grin. The entire family section erupted in cheers, Krys included, standing and clapping like she’d been supporting him since birth.

“You don’t even like them like that,” Kenyatta muttered, clapping lazily.

“True, but I love being seen,” she grinned.

Kenyatta chuckled, rubbing his chin. “Yeah, I peeped that.”

Krys just flipped her hair.

Now, onto the real show.

**********

The moment they pulled up to Karen and Thomas’ house in Westview Terrace, Krys felt the shift.

Unlike Bayfront Heights, this wasn’t old money, nor was it generational wealth; this was new money trying to look like old money. A neighborhood built on flexing harder than your bank account allowed. Expensive cars parked outside houses with past due mortgages, designer fits worn by people still living check-to-check, and pools that only got used when company came over. Bougie, but with a hint of hood.

The house itself was a two-story modern colonial with an oversized porch and tacky finishes that screamed “somebody wanna be rich real bad.” The lawn was perfectly edged, but the HOA fees probably hurt. Driveways showcased leased foreigns, and inside were marble countertops, velvet curtains, and at least one room with furniture no one was allowed to sit on.

The scent of seasoned barbecue and overpriced candles mixed in the air, while trap music laced with R&B classics pumped through hidden outdoor speakers. This was Westview Terrace, where everybody had something to prove. And if anyone knew Karen and Thomas Dotson, they were always trying to flex on the family. Krys never understood why they decided to leave Southside Haven, a neighborhood full of history, tradition, and presence. Families stretching for generations.

Krys inhaled deeply, then exhaled her nerves out the window. It wasn’t nerves about showing up; it was about showing up with him.

The moment she stepped out of her black S-Class Mercedes, all eyes turned to the driveway. Krys knew her family. Knew they were about to have a damn field day.

As Krys strutted forward, leading the way toward the backyard, confidence radiating from every step, she was well aware of the attention shifting in her direction. The summer sun kissed her skin just right, highlighting the golden undertones in her complexion as her fitted dress hugged every curve effortlessly.

Kenyatta moved beside her, unbothered as ever, but he wasn’t blind. He caught how heads turned, how conversations momentarily halted, how the subtle hush of whispers spread through the backyard like a slow ripple.

A few uncles paused mid-sip from their cups, already sizing him up. A group of women by the patio gave Krys that knowing glance, like they couldn’t wait to get her alone and dig into the tea.

Kenyatta clocked Zahir immediately. Posted up near the grill with Trevor, arms folded, jaw tight. His whole stance screamed agitation, but he played it cool for now.

Kaliyah stuck close to her father’s side, her wide brown eyes flicking around, taking in all the unfamiliar faces in the lively backyard. The space was immaculate, perfectly manicured lawn, high end patio furniture, a gleaming outdoor bar, and a DJ booth set up near the firepit, already blasting smooth R&B over the laughter and chatter.

Krys’ Aunt Karen, Sydnee’s mother, was the first to approach, her smile pleasant but sharp.

“Well, well, well,” Karen said, looking Krys up and down before letting her eyes flick over to Kenyatta. “So, you finally decided to bring a man to one of these things instead of that big ol’ dog.”

Krys smiled, unfazed. “I figured I’d switch it up this time. Musa deserves a break.”

Karen let out a soft laugh, but there was still something in her eyes that lingered a little too long on Kenyatta. “And who is this fine young man?”

Krys tightened her grip around his arm, her confidence unwavering. “This is Kenyatta.”

Karen nodded, lips pursed like she was turning over the name in her mind.

Before she could get too deep into her thoughts, Thomas, Karen’s husband and Sydnee’s father, a broad-shouldered man with a deep voice and an old-school, hustler’s air stepped up beside her.

“You the fella from couple’s night I heard about.”

Kenyatta met his gaze head-on, respectful but firm. “Yes, sir.”

Thomas studied him for a moment too long, then gave a small grunt of approval before looking back at Krys. “Ain’t like you to bring company.”

Krys gave a slanted grin. “Maybe y’all ain’t ever given me a reason to.”

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