Dark Waters, page 15
“Then what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you not going through with something I told you to do, and that’s a problem. Your father has another woman on his arm and thinks his shit don’t stink. Keenan Jr. is a thief, and Saint Kenny is a liar. Gay and running around here with some girl on his arm, thinking we don’t know he ain’t got a baby on the way. But since he’s marrying Porsha, even if he did, he’s fine.
So get it through your head that you three will look, speak, act, and live how we want you to. Okay? And for you taking your ass down to that church with paint is completely unacceptable, so you should be lucky this isn’t worse.”
“If y’all bring that old shit up one more time!”
“We’ll bring it up as many times as we have to until you get it through your head that you and your brothers are whoever we say y’all are! Don’t forget that shit, little girl.”
“Mama, you are being extreme now! I’m calling Dad!”
“Who do you think had your car picked up? A car that has your name on it alone.” Lillian laughed so hard in Naomi’s ear. “Oh, and you’re not going back to the rental house. We have new tenants moving in there in the morning, so we had to throw everything out after you left earlier. I did save one sweatsuit you had in the closet. The price tag on it said two hundred dollars, so I just couldn’t throw it away. Oh well. So, I’ll see you when you come home, hon?”
Naomi stands outside crying as rage builds up inside of her. “I’m not coming anywhere near you!”
“Excuse me? I thought we just had this talk.”
Naomi was so pissed at her mother as she thought you want to fuck with me? The only thing is, I’m not Keenan Jr. or Saint Kenny. I will drag your old-ass, bitch! Let’s go! She’s about to tell Lillian something that she swore she wouldn’t unless shit got drastic. Naomi has kept her mouth shut since she fumbled up on this info. She hadn’t even told Saint, and she tells him everything.
“Mama, you are so busy running around town spying on your children and our fuck-ups, that you’ve let the biggest fuck up of them all slip right passed your nosey-ass nose for years.”
“Naomi, who in the world do you think you are talking to? Huh?! Now look here, little girl—”
“Little girl, my ass! What you should be worried about is that little boy!”
Lillian pauses before she asks, “What little boy?”
“Ask his daddy and Mia. Or better yet, show up at her house tomorrow around three-ish and see for yourself.” Naomi said, “You know the address,” before she hung up.
Lillian screamed, “Naomi, what are you talking about?! Naomi!”
33
Lillian
The Next Day
With the clock in her car at 3:18, Lillian sits across the street from Mia’s address. Although she’s always known where she lived, she promised herself she would never pop up over here. Lillian thought she had too much class for that, but here she was, over her husband’s mistress’s house snooping.
After she turned Naomi’s phone back on, she called and texted her all night, but she didn’t answer. She thought Naomi, just tell me what you were talking about yesterday. What little boy?
For the first twenty minutes of her sitting there, she saw only a few cars driving by. After that, the street was quiet, with nothing going on, so Lillian started her engine and got ready to pull off until she saw a black G Wagon pulling up. It turns right into the driveway of the address she’s supposed to be at.
Lillian scrawls when she sees Mia get out. Her boobs look bigger. So does her ass. Lillian thinks, bitch!
Before long, Mia opens up the backdoor of her truck. When she does, Lillian sees a boy get out. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he started chasing a little blonde chihuahua that ran by. “Hey, doggy!”
Mia calls out for him. “Kannon! . . .” but he doesn’t stop running until she yells out his full name. “Kannon Raymond Thorn, get back here right now!”
As the little boy stops in his tracks, Lillian feels as if her heart has done the same, watching them from across the street. All the air inside her SUV seems to have been sucked out and replaced with death. She can’t breathe. She can’t think straight. The little boy . . . he looks just like Keenan Sr—just like her boys when they were small. And his middle name . . . Raymond . . . She thinks That’s Keenan’s middle name!
Fire whelps up in her eyes when she pulls her cell phone out. She’s shaking uncontrollably. Her mouth goes dry. She tries to reach for the water bottle in her cup holder but can’t move. She can only grip her cell phone as tears pour out of her eyes. “Maybe it’s . . . that boy . . . maybe he’s not Keenan’s. Just because he looks like—well, his looks don’t matter; all little boys look like that.” Lillian peers out the window again. “Cute . . . curly hair. That doesn’t mean he’s Keenan’s son.”
When her phone chimes, she looks at it. When Lillian sees it’s a message from Naomi, she quickly opens it. It’s a picture. Lillian blows it up with her fingers so she can see it better. It’s a school picture of the little boy she’s watching. Lillian reads his name first. “Kannon Raymond Thron.” She thinks I already knew that as she reads on. Mother: Mia Thorn. Authorized Contact: Anika Thorn. Lillian thinks, Yeah, who cares? She’s ready to close the message until she sees Father: Keenan Wat.” Now she closed the text before she finished it. She couldn’t read anymore—not with her husband’s name glaring back at her next to the word Father. “I knew it! You dirty bastard, I knew it! He looks too much like you! How the hell did you keep this from me? And how did Naomi find out?!” She’s losing it. “What have you done, Keenan?! What have you done?!”
Lillian quickly texted Naomi: How did you find out?
Naomi texts back: Go to hell!
“Naomi now is not the time for that! Answer me, damn it!” When Naomi stops texting, Lillian is next-level mad and calls Horace.
He answers on the second ring. “Hello, Lillian. Is everything okay?”
“Horace, I need to see you . . . RIGHT NOW!”
34
Saint Kenny
Flashbulbs. Lights. Cameras. Action! Saint Kenny and Porsha played roles for every photographer who wanted their picture. They stood in front of the white backdrop near the auditorium, hand in hand, as their smiles got bigger with each frame. Tonight, Saint Kenny is being honored at the Hot attorneys under 40 Gala, and of course, his new fiancée is right by his side. All of the times Saint has given Porsha his Black Card for her to go shopping while he and Jonathan stayed home and fucked really paid off. She looks like a million dollars on his arm. And luckily for them since there were just as many pictures being snapped inside as there were outside. Porsha didn’t mind since she seemed to pose in all of them.
After Saint Kenny was honored on stage, he and Porsha danced the night away on the Parque dance floor, feet away from the head table. He said, “I’m having the time of my life,” holding Porsha tight. He would have liked to look around and see his family here, but he disinvited all of them. Naomi, too, even though he texted her later that night and told her she could come. Naomi wasn’t his problem; it was Keenan Jr. that he would beat up if he could. He hasn’t talked to him since he decided he isn’t even going to confront him about stealing his grant. Saint knew exactly what Keenan Jr. did, so there was no use. He was ready to move on without his brother or the rest of the family. He thought I’m not getting Dad involved because he’ll only find a way to take Keenan’s side. Mama too. Oh well, fuck that family; I’m on my own now.
Overall, Saint and Porsha had a fantastic night to remember, with Saint thinking about his family the whole time.
After the three-hour ceremony was over, Porsha and Saint headed to the black truck waiting for them out front. Once they get in, the driver heads to Saint’s condo.
As they ride, Saint Kenny looks over at Porsha. “You okay? You look a little drained.”
“I’m okay. Tired, but I’m cool.”
“Okay, as soon as we get home, you can lie down, and I’ll cater to your every need.” Saint Kenny, high off life, laughs before he plants a nice juicy kiss on Porsha’s lips. “Everything is on track.” Saint tangles his fingers with hers. “I couldn’t ask for anything more. This has to be the best night of my life.”
When they pull into his parking lot, he leaves the driver a large tip through the rideshare app. Then, he climbs out of the UberXL behind Porsha. He gently puts his hand on the small of her back as they walk up the cobblestone walkway.
“Hey, neighbor, can you hold the door open for me?”
When Saint Kenny turns around, he sees a tall skinny guy coming up the walkway behind them, carrying about six full grocery bags in each hand. Saint gave him a quick “Sure” as he held the glass security door open behind him.
The man heads for the stairwell as Saint Kenny and Porsha make their way to the elevators in front of them. Once they’re on the seventh floor, they step out and head right to Saint Kenny’s door. He unlocks it. Porsha steps in first. Saint Kenny doesn’t step in at all with a revolver pressed against his skull. His knee-jerk reaction is to turn toward the gunman, but he stops when the man with the grocery bags and now heavy accent says, “Don’t you fucking move, motherfucker!”
Porsha comes back to the door. “Saint, what is . . .” Her eyes get big. “HÉCTOR?! What are you doing here?!”
After throwing down the grocery bags full of newspaper, he spits onto the ground and drops the fake Hey neighbor bit. Héctor then orders Saint Kenny to “Go inside, now!”
Saint walks in with his hands up. “Just take what you want, man, and leave.” Then, thinking his pricey Swiss luxury watch will get them out of this, he takes it off and tries to hand it to Héctor.
Héctor pushes Saint over by Porsha. “I’m not here for money or watches, you idiot!” He looks right at Porsha when he says, “All I want is her!”
“I will never go back there with you!”
“You want to bet?”
“Screw you, Héctor! I don’t know how you got out, but you’re going right back to jail!” Porsha reaches for her phone until Héctor slaps it out of her hand.
“You stupid whore! Do you think I would stand here and let you call the cops on me?” Next, he slaps her.
That’s when Saint Kenny jumps forward. “Aye, man!”
When Héctor extends his arm out and cocks the gun at Saint, he stops and changes his mind about charging him. “Sit your ass down and stop risking your life for a woman that doesn’t belong to you!”
Porsha isn’t afraid of Héctor or the gun. “And a woman who doesn’t belong or want you either!”
Héctor hits Porsha in the face. She shouts! So does Héctor. “Just because you’re here with him, I will still take care of you violently! Now, get up from there, and LET’S GO!”
“Stop, Héctor, let me go!” Porsha is flinging her arms and trying to escape him as he fists her top and starts dragging her.
Saint Kenny is standing there frozen. He can’t believe how quickly the night switched up. Not even an hour ago, he was on top of the world, and now he’s standing in his condo, scared to death. As Héctor kept the gun pointed at him as he fought with Porsha, Saint asked himself, Was all of this worth it? I can’t believe this is happening. He brought these people into his world all for the sake of a lie to his family; now look at him.
With Héctor right on Porsha, he screams at her. “You are coming with me! Your whole family is looking for you! They’re worried about you, Porsha.” Héctor is wrestling with Porsha with one hand while keeping a firm grip on the gun he has pointed at Saint Kenny. With Saint standing there looking as if he was ready to rip him to shreds, he wasn’t about to let it go.
Porsha is getting weak but still putting up a helluva fight. “My family doesn’t care about me! All they care about is your money and drugs. That’s why I left them and you behind for good! If I go back to LA, I’m dead.” Unfortunately, Porsha’s scratches and kicks are no match for Héctor.
“And if you stay here, you’re dead!”
“Well, so be it because I’m not going anywhere with you!”
He lets her go. “Then I’ll kill you both!”
When Héctor lets go of Porsha, Saint Kenny tries to be a hero again. He lunges for the gun. He and Héctor fight. Porsha is screaming. The scene is chaotic. Everything is happening so fast until the gunshot slows everything all the way down.
Blood goes everywhere. It paints the white room another color: ruby red. Porsha’s screams get even louder as Saint Kenny falls to the floor. He’s been shot. He wants to yell, too but can’t.
Héctor stands over Saint with Porsha going ballistic a few feet away. “Héctor, what have you done?! OH MY GOD!”
He looks at Porsha when he says, “I’m going to kill him, then I’m going to kill you.”
Saint Kenny grabs his side. “Come on, man . . . you”—Grunts—“you don’t have to do this.”
“HÉCTOR, NO! DON’T! PLEASE!”
Saint’s pleads, and Porsha’s screams mean nothing. Héctor looks right into Saint Kenny’s eyes, about to pull the trigger. “I told you she’s mine, not yours! You should’ve left her alone when you had the chance. Now it’s too late for you.”
POW!
There is more blood. This time it’s all over Porsha. In her hair. In her mouth. All over her belly. He’s dead. At least, that’s how it looks with a smoking hole in his head.
“OH MY GOD, OH GOD, OH MY GOD!” Porsha is going crazy, unable to believe her eyes. All she can do is scream, “HE’S DEAD!”
“Aw, shit!” More grunts come from Saint Kenny after he gets pinned under Héctor’s body when it falls on him. He then looks up to see Jonathan standing there holding a gun. He’s shaking so bad the .22 falls right out of his hands.
Saint inhaled a big breath of air when he said, “Oh my God, Jonathan! What are you doing here? And how did you know what was going on?”
“I-I-I missed you, so I was snooping . . . I just came over here to see if you were home . . . I was riding through your p-parking lot and that’s when-when I saw him up here with a gun on you. I-I had mine in my glovebox. I used your key. . . I didn’t mean to . . . I didn’t m-mean to shoot him. It’s just . . . I didn’t want him to hurt you.” Jonathan’s words are super chopped. He’s still shaking. He’s scared but so happy to see Saint Kenny alive. “When I came in here and saw him standing over you, I just fired, and he fell.”
Porsha is standing there, frozen by what just happened. “I can’t believe this . . . I can’t believe he came here.”
Saint ignores Porsha with his eyes right on Jonathan. “He was going to kill me . . . You saved my life, Jonathan . . . you saved me. I love you so much! Thank you, baby! Thank you for saving me.”
As Saint showers Jonathan with love and gratitude, Porsha just stands there with her hand over her belly, glaring at him . . .
35
Keenan Jr.
Keenan Jr. talks to Faith as he drives home. He had just dropped his daughter off at his parent’s house for the night, so he and Taylor could have some much-needed alone time. First, he took Kennedy to get two scoops of ice cream, read her a story when she got comfortable in Naomi’s bed, and then promised he would see her first thing in the morning. She never spends the night away from home on a school night, but tonight, Keenan Jr. made an exception. He was about to handle his lying, cheating wife, and he didn’t want his daughter to witness how he was about to talk to Mommy once he got back home. But first, he has to calm Faith down as she ranted about Gugliemelli. “As I told you before, Faith, you are worried over nothing. Gugliemelli is not the sharpest tool in the shade, so we’re fine. We have to lay low and remain as normal as possible. Just keep your eyes open and be ready for anything since neither of us has heard from him.”
“That’s very true.”
Keenan Jr. hesitated before he told her, “I had an issue at work the other day. I thought he was trying to set me up, but I don’t think so now. However, I handled it because I was ready.”
Faith sounds even more nervous. “An issue? What kind of issue? How did you handle it?”
Keenan Jr. shook his head, thinking about the day he had to run up ten flights of stairs to make it to his office before the treasurer did. “It doesn’t matter, Faith. I held it down, and you have to do the same on your end.”
She said, “You’re right, attorney.”
“Faith, I’ve never seen you like this before. Usually, you’re the one cool and calm. Especially when it comes to Gugliemelli.”
“I know, but the last time I talked to him, his voice was different. He was different. It was as if he knew we cut him out of the Shoreline Investments deal. And then he just disappeared.”
“Trust me on this one, Faith; he doesn’t know anything.” As Keenan Jr. drives up the private road to his driveway, he becomes anxious, looking up at Taylor’s silhouette from their big bedroom window in the front.
“The last time I talked to him, he said he knew me and my husband looked at a home in Gladwyne which we did.”
“Shit, Faith! We have to stay low-key, remember? At least for now.” Keenan takes a deep breath looking down at his new low-key Rolex. “But, it’s okay . . . just stop worrying and get some rest. We’re safe. No one knows what we pulled off, and we’re going to keep it that way, okay?”
“Fine, okay, I’ll relax. I’ve just been on edge since Arthur left my office last week.”
“But you shouldn’t be. There is no way that bastard could even think about nailing one of us without frying off his own fat turkey neck.” As Keenan Jr. continues to underestimate Gugliemelli, he said, “Trust me, he’s harmless . . . I’ve learned that from you over the years.”
“Maybe you’re right. Oh, and before I forget, thanks for helping Mark.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that; Mark Papadopoulos already did. Taylor and I leave next Thursday for the Virgin Islands.”
