Dark Waters, page 8
“Well, lucky for us, he won’t find out.” Before Taylor could speak another word, Ross’s tongue stirred in and out of her mouth with her enjoying every moment with her new lover.
***
Keenan Jr. is sitting at his desk, waiting on Taylor to call him. As he sits there, he decides to try and start work before he heads into court in an hour. He logs into his computer, but that’s all he does before he grabs his phone to call Taylor since she still hadn’t called him. When her voicemail picks up: “Hey, babe, I was just calling you . . . it’s after eight, and I haven’t heard from you yet. If you’re still sleeping, call me as soon as you wake up. I love you.” After Keenan Jr. leaves Taylor a voicemail, he rears back in his chair. He’s heavy in thought about Faith when she comes through the door.
“Well, good morning, attorney.”
His voice is even. “Good morning, Faith.”
She walks up to his desk. She doesn’t sit. She keeps her voice low when she talks to him. “Have you thought about what we talked about Friday night?”
He looks up at her. “You know I have.” He then gets up and goes to close his office door.
“So, what’s it going to be? Are we in or not?”
Keenan Jr. is speaking low as if his door is still open. “Do you have everything?”
“Right here.” Faith pulls out documents on Shoreline Investments letterhead and a check for two million dollars that she conveniently keeps Keenan Jr. from seeing. “You still haven’t given me an answer, though.”
“Faith, one million dollars . . . this is a lot . . . if you screw me—”
“Me screwing you would be me screwing myself, and I don’t do that . . . that’s what I have a husband for.”
He looks at her again. “. . . Do you have the authorization and release of funds agreement?” Faith lays all the papers separated by yellow sticky notes in front of him. Then, with his eyes glued to the paperwork, Keenan Jr. asks, “Where do I sign?”
She points to the x’s at the bottom of each page. “Right here and right here.” She flips a page. “Here, and . . . right there.”
After Keenan Jr. signs, he lays the pen back on his desk. “Is that it?”
“That’s it.” Faith picks up the documents. “Meet me at McAurther Park at six. While we’re there, follow my lead.”
After Faith leaves, Keenan Jr. sits at his desk to process what he just did . . .
Nine hours later, Faith pulls into McAurther Park. When she sees Keenan Jr.’s car, she pulls right beside it and gets out. She’s happy he’s sitting on the bench where she asked him to sit. As she’s walking up to him, she says, “Stand up and put your arms out to me.”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “Wait-what?”
“Keenan, get up!”
When he stands up, she embraces him. She kisses him—lots of passion, no tongue. Faith then sits down. Keenan Jr. sits beside her. He takes his paisley pocket square out of his jacket and dabs at Faith’s lipstick that’s now on his lips. “Why would you do that? You know I’m married, and so are you.”
“Are you kidding me? We both are high-powered attorneys with our hands in a few cookie jars other than our own. Just in case one of us were being followed, watched, or pictures were being taken, it would look a lot better if it looked like we were having an affair versus me just handing you a paper bag full of money in a park and walking off.”
“I get it.”
She hands him a wrapped sandwich. “Here, take this.”
“What is this?”
“Tuna. It’s homemade.”
“What? I don’t eat tuna.”
“You do today. And after our pretend picnic here, I’m leaving and going home to my husband for a real meal.”
Keenan Jr. frowns after biting into the sandwich. “Needs more relish.”
“I thought you didn’t eat tuna.”
He scuffs.
After half an hour of them sitting there laughing, smiling big, and appearing to be enjoying each other, Faith stands up. “Okay, Keenan, I’m leaving. Stand up and kiss me again.” He looks up at her with a Really? expression, but he does what she asks. After they kiss again, Faith walks away and says, “Have a good day, attorney. Oh, and don’t forget the other half of your sandwich in the bag.”
When Keenan Jr. sits back on the bench, he picks up the bag and looks in it. Inside, there are tons and tons of rolled-up stacks of money. All crisp. All brand new bills. Keenan Jr. then looks up at Faith’s car. When he does, she winks at him through the windshield before casually backing out of her parking spot and pulling off.
Forty minutes later, Faith is pulling up in her driveway. Once the garage door lifts, she drives in and turns her car off. She grabs her bag off the passenger seat and heads into the house. When she does, her husband is in the kitchen cooking.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, yourself.” She goes over and kisses him. “Something smells good. What are you making?”
He smiles. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”
After Faith kicks her stilettos off, she goes to the stove for a taste test. When her husband puts the wooden spoon into her mouth, she lets the sauce melt on her tongue. “Oh, Ross . . . that is by far your best sauce ever!”
“Anything for my beautiful wife.”
She casually eyes him. “You sure seem energized . . . what did you do today?”
He makes eye contact with Faith as he thinks of Taylor Waters. “Nothing out of the ordinary . . . I hit up the gym and did some grocery shopping.” He looks away from her, leaving out the part that he was fucking another woman all morning in a hotel room Faith paid for. “Like I said, nothing out of the ordinary, babe.”
When Faith goes and sits at the dining room table, Ross comes and starts rubbing her shoulders. “So, are you ready to transform from DA Faith Price and back into my loving, sexy wife Faith McKnight, who I love with all my heart?”
“Just because I still use my maiden name to practice law doesn’t mean I’m not always Faith McKnight . . . your loving wife . . .”
15
Naomi
Keenan Sr. enters his house and sets his briefcase in the dining room. “Naomi.” His voice vibrates the glasses in the kitchen cabinets when he calls out for her again, much louder than before. “NAOMI!”
Lillian comes down the stairs first. She frowns when she sees Keenan Sr. “What are you doing here? And why are you yelling for Naomi?”
“Where is she?”
“She’s upstairs in her bedroom . . . and you still haven’t answered my question, Keenan. What are you doing—”
“NAOMI!”
With Lillian standing there getting upset at her yelling husband, Naomi comes down the back staircase. She’s not herself. Her appearance alone makes it clear she’s not in the mood, but that doesn’t stop her father from ripping into her.
“Daddy, what is it?”
He shouts, “Do you want to tell me anything?!”
Naomi panics, looking at Lillian, who mouths, “I didn’t call him,” to her.
“Goddmanit, Naomi, stop staring at your mother and answer me! Is there something you want to tell me?”
She quickly answers, “No.”
“Where were you last Friday evening?” Fury is spewing from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. “And don’t you DARE lie to me!”
Naomi knows exactly where this is going, so she tries to create a quick diversion to save her ass and put her father in the hot seat. “I was here with the family when Mama cursed you out because you didn’t come home on y’all anniversary. I remember something about you and some whore in Chestnut Hill?”
Keenan Sr. slaps Naomi so hard across the face Lillian grabs the side of her face with her mouth wide open. “Keenan!”
“Stay out of this, Lillian!”
He then stares at Naomi, who is blazing hot, staring right back at him. “Don’t you ever stand feet away from me and disrespect me like that! Who do you think I am? One of your brothers or filthy boyfriends that keep hopping the damn gates?! NOW TELL ME WHERE YOU WERE AND WHAT YOU DID LAST FRIDAY!”
Naomi is holding the side of her face the same as Lillian is. “Why, so you can slap me around some more?!”
Lillian asked, “Naomi, what is your father talking about? What happened?”
“Fine . . . I’ll tell y’all what happened.” She looks at her father first. “I went to Second Baptist over on State Street.”
Lillian asks, “For the wedding you were telling me about?”
“Yes. I went there with a gallon of paint, and I threw it on—”
“Tia Armstrong! When that came across my desk today, do you know how embarrassed I was?!”
Naomi’s eyes pop when she shouts, “So, now this is about you?!”
“No, it’s about you, running around Philadelphia doing nothing but causing trouble! This is just like you dropping out of law school all over again!”
“Daddy, what the hell does school have to do with this?”
“Because here you are once again doing whatever you want regardless of the consequences and take no accountability for it! Just like when you left school after I paid for the best private law tutors in the state and hid it from us. And then you had the nerve to take my money and go out and buy a twenty thousand-dollar useless-ass purse!”
Lillian goes over, ready to hug Naomi as she starts to cry. “Lillian, stop! Don’t baby her up; that’s the problem now!”
He’s back on Naomi. “You remember, you are my daughter. So rather you passed the goddamn bar or not, you must always, and I do mean ALWAYS, appear perfect! Even when you’re sitting down to take a shit in public, you should appear perfect for the woman in the stall next to you. Do I make myself clear?!”
“Crystal . . . appear perfect when my father struts around Philly so imperfect, got it!”
“You ungrateful little bitch! After the stunt you pulled, you should be happy I still let you stay here at thirty years old.”
“You know what . . .” Naomi runs up the stairs and back down within seconds. She’s carrying a small Birkin bag she bought with her father’s tutor money. She dumps everything out of the purse onto the dining room table. Lipstick, stains, makeup, combs, a brush, chewing gum, and cash go everywhere. When her phone’s charger cord drops out of the purse, she grabs it. “This is all that I need!”
Lillian asks, “Naomi, where are you going?”
“I’m leaving! I don’t have to take this.”
Her eyes dart to her father. “And what you don’t get is I don’t have to live here.” Naomi points at her mother when she says, “You can run her into the ground, but you won’t run me anywhere except away from you!
And you are so for the people, and the state, and your image that you don’t see what you’re doing to this family! And I wonder . . . do you tell your forty-six-year-old whore in Chestnut Hill to appear perfect at all times, or is that reserved just for us?”
When Keenan Sr. lunges at Naomi, Lillian darts between them.
“YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY IN THIS HOUSE! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!”
“Gladly.” Naomi steps around her mother and heads for the staircase.
Ten minutes later, she’s down in the driveway, throwing a packed duffle bag in her trunk. She then slams the trunk down. She gets in her car and slams the driver’s door too. After she speeds out of the driveway, she calls Saint Kenny. When his voicemail picks up, she leaves him a rushed message: “Kenny, I’m on my way over there!”
16
Saint Kenny
When Saint Kenny hears a knock at the door, he goes to it. It’s Jonathan standing there. First, they smile when they see each other. Next, they hug and kiss. When Saint Kenny looks at Jonathan, he asks, “Why are you so dressed up?” eyeing Jonathan’s crip black button-up shirt and gray chino slacks. All Saint Kenny was wearing was basketball shorts, socks, and slides.
Jonathan says, “I wanted to look nice for you.”
As their evening starts, they kiss and hug each other more. Except now there are no lights. No talking. No Porsha. Jonathan doesn’t care where she is; he’s just glad she’s not around. So when Saint Kenny called and asked him to meet at his condo, he agreed. They missed the hell out of each other, and it shows.
They’ve always been good together sexually, but it’s not just about sex tonight. It’s about them connecting, experiencing each other on a level they’ve seemed to lose when Porsha entered the picture. But since Porsha is not here, it’s just the two of them lost in love.
Jonathan moans, “I love you too,” when Saint Kenny says it first.
As Saint and Jonathan get it on, Naomi is heated as she drives to his condo. “Kenny, I’m on my way over there!”
After she hangs up from Saint Kenny’s voicemail, her phone rings. She’s ready to dismiss the caller until she sees it’s Keenan Jr. She answers with an attitude. “Hel-lo!”
“Naomi, what is going on? Mama just called me frantic a minute ago about you and Dad getting into it.”
“Fuck him! He’s a hypocritical asshole, and I don’t have time for his shit, so I left.”
“Is this about Tia Armstrong and her wedding?”
Noami pauses. “ . . . Bye, Keenan. I’m not doing this with you tonight.”
“I’m sorry, okay, don’t hang up.”
“They told you?”
“I caught a whiff of what happened today at the prosecutor’s office.”
“Let me guess, you’re embarrassed, too, right?”
“We all fuck up, Naomi. None of us, including Dad, are perfect. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
She calms down a bit, hearing the genuineness in his voice. “I’m okay, brother.”
“Are you going back home?”
“God, no! I’m going to crash at Saint Kenny’s until I figure some stuff out.”
“You can always come here too; we have plenty of room.”
“Thank you, brother.” Naomi pulls right next to Saint Kenny’s car. “But I’m pulling into Saint’s now. Thank goodness he’s home.” She looks up at his windows. “It looks dark up there, though. You know you can see the entire inside of his condo from the street when he has lights on.”
“Yeah, he’s probably sleeping.”
“If so, that’s cool.” After Naomi gets out and grabs her bag from the trunk, she says, “I have a key. I will be extra quiet so I don’t wake him. All I want to do is take a hot shower and crash anyway.”
“Okay, well, call me if you need me. And remember, no matter what’s going on, we stick together. We are a family . . . The Waters family.”
“Feels more like Dark Waters to me because everything is always going bad for us. Just dark fucked-up bullshit on every turn.”
“It feels that way now, but it’ll get better, baby sister, okay? I promise. I love you.”
“I love you too, brother.”
As Naomi takes the seven-story elevator ride, she’s quiet, thinking about the fight with her father. She is seconds from calling him and telling him everything she didn’t think to say then, but she decides against it when she gets to Saint Kenny’s floor. Naomi heads right for his door and lets herself in. She then turns on the light in the living room. The condo was pitch black, but she knew he was here . . . she could hear him in the other room. There are sounds. Groans. Rustling. Naomi giggles when she hears the sex noises as she tiptoes away from Saint’s bedroom. “Oh my God, maybe I should leave . . . I’ll go to Keenan Jr.’s house instead.”
Naomi is standing there about to call Keenan Jr. back when Saint’s bedroom door flings open. He and Naomi are both startled, with Saint Kenny quickly closing his robe. “Naomi?! What are you doing here?”
“Me and Dad had a huge fight. He called himself kicking me out, but I basically left.”
Saint becomes so nervous with Jonathan’s Versace sneakers sitting by the door. His jacket is sprawled over the couch, too, right next to the rubbers. Saint prays Naomi doesn’t see them. If she does, it’s a wrap.
“Do you know he had the nerve to call me a ‘little bitch?’ And that motherfucker hit me! But that’s okay . . . I let his cheating-ass have it, and Mama stood there and enjoyed every minute of me throwing his shit back in his face.”
OH, NO! thought Saint Kenny. Jonathan’s phone is on the table. It’s lighting up from notifications. Naomi is going to know that’s not his phone. Those are not his shoes. That’s not his jacket. He had to think fast!
“Naomi, listen, please . . . go to Keenan’s tonight. My first case is not until one, so we’ll have breakfast and figure all of this shit out then with Dad.”
“Hold on . . . are you kicking me out?”
Saint looks at his closed bedroom door and then back at Naomi. “I’m a little busy right now.” He prays the beads of sweat on his forehead don’t start running down his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, I promise.”
“Okay, alright, calm down. I was leaving anyway so y’all can get back to the nasty.” She playfully sticks her tongue out at him.
If he wasn’t before, Saint Kenny is now in full panic mode when the loud click at his bedroom door sends his fear into overload. First, he wondered what Jonathan was doing in there. Then, with his mind on his naked boyfriend coming out of his bedroom and blowing his cover to his sister, all he could think was, Jonathan, please don’t do this to me, please! . . .
Naomi hears the sound at the door too. She laughs when she says, “Hey, Porsha girl!” Silence. Naomi then whispers over at Saint, “She ain’t speaking today?”
Saint’s voice is trembling when he says, “Good night, Naomi, I’ll see you in the morning . . .”
Naomi gives him a strange look, with him standing in front of her, shaking. “ . . . Bye, Saint. I’ll text you when I get to Keenan’s.” They hug.
After he gets Naomi out, Saint’s chest is nearly heaving with his back to the front door. He then quickly turns and latches the chain in case she decides to come back in.
When Jonathan slowly opens the bedroom door, he asks, “Is she gone?”
