Page 12 of Tangled Hearts
She laughed, nudging him, and following him toward the sidewalk.
They didn’t know it’d be their last slow day for a while. Didn’t know he’d be gone by the end of the week. Didn’t know that the version of Rock she wanted would take years to develop.
But for now, they had this.
A blunt, a bench, a sketchbook… and love that came with strings.
The small kitchen in Knycole’s apartment smelled like grease and flour, even though the oil in the skillet refused to heat right. She had her hair tied back with a scarf, a T-shirt on that was already stained with cornmeal, and a focused frown on her face.
“Rock, is this supposed to bubble like this?” she asked, leaning over the pan.
Rock was slouched on her couch, sketchbook spread across his lap. He didn’t even look up. “Turn the fire down some before you burn the whole spot up.”
Knycole rolled her eyes, grabbing a fork, and flipped the fish too early. The batter slid off, exposing the raw pink inside. She groaned. “See? This why I don’t fry nothing. I’m a bake-only girl.”
Rock smirked without lifting his pencil. “Ain’t nobody ask you to cook, Knyc. You insisted.”
“Nigga you said you had a food stamp card… I wanted to try,” she muttered, cutting her eyes at him. “You know I ain’t wasting no stamps.”
They both laughed, knowing having stamps was most times better than actual money.
Before Rock could agree, there was a knock at the door. Knycole wiped her hands on a towel, switching over to the door to pull it open.
Noir breezed in, camera already in her hand, with a ring light poking out of her tote.
“What y’all got going on?” Noir asked, scanning the room. She lifted the camera, snapped a quick picture of Knycole still holding the towel. “Yes, chef Knyc.” She snapped her fingers twice.
Knycole laughed. “Don’t play with me. I’m in here fuckin’ this fish up.” She went back to the food she was messing up.
Living with Nick, Knycole learned how to cook things early… some came easier than others but she was always willing to try.
Rock glanced up acknowledging Noir. “You always got that camera with you, pretty girl. Ain’t nobody trying to be in your little YouTube vlog.”
“It’s not YouTube, dummy, it’s content,” Noir shot back, adjusting her braids in her phone screen reflection. “And one day, when I’m viral, you gon’ be begging me to put you on.”
Rock shrugged. “I’ll pass.”
The skillet popped, making Knycole jump. “See? That’s exactly why I don’t fuck with frying.”
Another knock rattled the door. This one held some weight. She opened it again, this time to Hov and Cash. Both of them walked in like they owned the place.
“Damn, you cooking like that, kid?” Hov teased, pulling Knycole into a quick hug. He lingered a little longer than necessary, his hand sliding down her arm before he let go. His eyes held hers for a second, soft in a way that brought a warm blush to her face and made her look away quick.
“Don’t gas me, Quameek… I’m just practicing,” she said, brushing him off with a laugh.
“Practice gon’ set the whole block on fire,” Rock threw in with a laugh.
Hov dropped down beside his boy on the couch, giving him a nod. “What’s up, Rock?”
“Same ol’.” Rock dapped Hov up.
Cash had already made his way to Noir. “Lemme rap for your camera real quick,” he grinned, tugging at his hoodie strings.
Noir laughed. “Boy, nobody asked for that.”
“Nah, for real.” Cash cleared his throat and started spitting a few rough bars. His flow was raw, but his energy was loud. He rapped about growing up in the hood, about wanting to buy his mama a house, about one day being the one everybody quoted. He ended it with a grin and pointed at Noir’s lens. “That’s history right there. You sitting on gold.”
Noir laughed so hard she almost dropped her camera. “History of what? Cringe?”
