Page 5 of Evil Queen

Nathan

Where Kyle and I grew up in South Postings was much different from where Deon and Cherri grew up in North Postings. South Postings was the posh part of town compared to the more slum-like surroundings of North Postings, and Kyle was right. If he’d invited me to a diner there six months ago, I absolutely would not have gone. I, not unlike most rich kids living in their own world, bought into the narrative that North Postings was too dangerous to go into, but then my father tried to frame my brother for murder, killed my mother, tried to kill me, and threatened to hurt the people I loved most all in the span of about two days.

Funny how life puts things into perspective.

My car was far from being the nicest one on the pothole-ridden street that I parked on in front of the small mom-and-pop diner that Kyle directed me to, and unlike the way people often stared at me regardless of where I went in South Postings, as I climbed out of my car, those who could see me didn’t give me more than a quick glance of awareness. There was the laughter of people standing around despite the frigid temperatures outside, and when I passed them by, they all smiled and nodded. No one ever did that in South Postings.

“New around here?” a man with pale skin and rosy-red cheeks asked as I passed.

I glanced down at my designer jeans, Doc Martens boots, and flannel under an expensive down jacket. “What gave me away?”

“You’re Kyle’s friend, right?” he asked.

My eyes widened a little bit. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

The man nodded toward the diner. “This is my place. His mama and I go way back.” He held out a hand. “I’m Gerald.”

I took Gerald’s hand and shook it, and the firm welcome in his grip was comforting after spending months alone in my cold mansion. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nathan.”

“Yeah.” A frown crossed his face. “Listen, I know you been through some stuff. Kyle didn’t tell me everything, but he told me enough. Said you need some of ol’ Pop Gerald’s comfort food. If you ever need anything,”—he motioned to the group of people around him, an eclectic mix of older and younger people of all types—“we got you covered here.”

For the first time in a very long time, I smiled. In my world, strangers didn’t give a shit about you. It was strange.

“Thanks,” I said.

Gerald tapped my shoulder with his hand. “Head on in. Kyle’s at his favorite booth about halfway back. They’ll take your order, and I’ll hit the grill for ya. Order whatever you want. On me.”

My jaw dropped. “Uh, I’m really not trying to brag or anything, but I can pay for it.”

He laughed. “I know you can. It’s not about the money. Sometimes, we just need to look out for each other, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Walking away, I almost expected to hear an insult grumbled under his breath or a judgment thrown from one of the other people he was talking to, but he huffed, “Yeah, that’s a good kid. I feel bad,” and everyone agreed.

Was this the care and concern of other people that I was missing, locked up in my world in South Postings?

Bells on the door to the diner jingled as I opened it and entered the small restaurant. A few tables were scattered in front of me, and to my right, booths were situated all down the wall toward the back of the quaint diner. I could throw a ball from one end to the other, and because it was so early, there weren’t many people inside. As I scanned the few occupants, a hand went into the air, and I noticed Kyle sitting about halfway back along the row of booths. He smiled as I walked over and stood up to greet me with a hug. His chocolate skin was well covered under a black bomber jacket and a black beanie, but I could see that he was wearing one of his designer sweaters underneath and had a classic pair of tan Primo Castagna high-tops on his feet. His wrists and fingers were still covered in all kinds of jewelry, and a set of wide-rimmed glasses still sat on his nose.

Why I was anticipating seeing something other than the typical Kyle, I wasn’t sure, but it was good to see he was still really and truly himself.

“Hey, man,” he said. “I’m glad you came.”

We broke our embrace and dropped into opposing sides of the booth. “Yeah, me too.”

Kyle was my best friend. We didn’t meet until Deon came to live with me, but when he left, all of the friends we’d made together ditched me except for Kyle. He said that I was a good guy and that he liked being friends with me. Gaining and then losing Deon gave me more than a few trust issues. By that point, I already assumed that everyone who was sticking around me was doing so for some benefit, even though Kyle and Nikita both had long proven that it wasn’t the case.

Along with everyone else in The Royal Court, I’d avoided speaking with Kyle, but he was the one I missed the most. He knew me better than nearly anyone else in my life, and I think the idea that he’d see through me terrified me. It was already bad enough that Nikita was hanging around, taking care of me while still silently riddling me with guilt, and I figured that having just one of those people in my life while trying to figure out what was next for me was enough.

Just like back when Deon left, Kyle had stuck around, and he’d gotten very little from me in return. Seeing him gave me that familiar, finally-home feeling, and I hated that I’d avoided seeing him for so long.

Looking through the window to my right, I could see Gerald still chuckling with the group of people he was talking to. “I met Gerald.”

“Oh, yeah. Pop’s a really good man. He and my mom have been friends since childhood. She lived around here, growing up, but moved to South Postings during her residency, and well, that doctor’s salary allowed her to start a family down there. She always made sure to bring me around here a lot, though. This is my favorite place.”

“He’s…” There was a shake to my voice I wasn’t expecting. “I get why Deon wanted to come back here.”

Kyle nodded. “Yeah. I knew I couldn’t say that to you back then, but I got it too. My mom always talked about it. How hard it was to go from here to there. The feeling is just different. People are people up here. It’s not about how much money you make, who you’re married to, or what your affiliation is with a certain group of people. They just look out for each other. It’s really something special.”

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