Fast Life (18 page)

“He's all the way up in Chicago, though, right? Maybe she's lonely?”

“Yeah but still…” She trailed off for a minute and then started again. “Look, I gotta get up for work tomorrow and it's late. Let's go to sleep.” She brought their conversation to a conclusion and turned off the water. She grabbed a towel from the rack and stepped out of the bathroom so rapidly, she left Justin stupefied.

K
yra's first day of work was busier than she expected, but she handled it well. She gave out helpful fashion advice to the customers as she managed to shuffle from shelf to shelf to restock items and keep things appealing to them. More people passed through the store than she had ever imagined. Even with being on her feet for five hours as well as being under Regina's watchful eye, Kyra found working at Butterfly unexpectedly fun.

In only a few days, she became a part-time employee. Between hours at Butterfly and school, she found herself having less and less time for her friends and her boyfriend. Her paycheck helped to ease that loss, and the fact that she enjoyed what she did wasn't bad, either. As with everything in life, there were always pros and cons.

 

“Girl, you were right. Work ain't no joke.” Kyra sat on her bed with her homework spread all around her, talking to Natasha about her new job. She stared out her window at the gleaming sun and bit her nails out of habit. She had more than enough work to do, and she was far behind schedule.

“See, I told you. And then all the shit with school…”

“I know, I'm literally surrounded with homework right now.”

“But I'll give it to you. You actually went and got you a job and proved me wrong, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“See! I told you so!” she boasted. She was smiling and feeling good about winning the bet.

“So where do you work at?”

“That store we went shoppin' at when you were down here. Remember?”

“Oh yeah. I remember. That store had some hot clothes, fa real.”

“Yeah, they do. You should see some of the new stuff we got in on this last shipment. Woo,” Kyra commented, reflecting on some of the new items that had caught her attention.

“I've been wondering why I haven't been able to reach your ass for grip now.”

“Now ya know.”

“Well, as much as I would love to continue this conversation, my ma just called me, so I gotta go. Who knows what she wants now.”

“Okay, girl, bye-bye.”

Kyra had just turned her attention to her assignments when the doorbell rang. She got up and rushed to the door to see Justin. Her face scrunched up when she noticed the dirt and sweat on him, as well as the faint odor that invaded her nostrils.

“Hey, baby.” He didn't waste any time before moving in for a kiss.

“Ugh, back up. You stink and you're dirty,” she whined as she pulled her face away.

“What's wrong with a little dirt? Dirt don't hurt.” He mischievously moved closer.

“Stop playin'! I just got out the shower!”

“Come here!”

She dodged Justin's lunge and ran into her bedroom, where he caught her and held her down, smothering her in kisses.

“Ugh! Justin! Get off me!” she squealed.

He got up smiling and laughing as she playfully hit him.

“Go get a shower!”

“I don't have any clothes.”

“I'll wash those. Please just go. Washcloths and towels are in the hall closet.”

“Thanks, baby,” Justin said, planting another quick kiss on his girlfriend's cheek.

 

“Hey, what are you up to?” said Geneva, just as Kyra finished putting Justin's clothes in the washing machine.

“Nothin', just doin' some homework”

“Then who the hell is in the shower?” She was curious after picking up the sound of running water.

Kyra's answer came without any hint of hesitation. “Justin.”

“You got him up in here using my shower?”

“Trust me, he needed it.”

“You don't need any boys up in here while I'm not home.”

“Which is never. I need
someone
here with me.”

“What do you want me to do, Kyra? Not work?”

“No, but it wouldn't kill you to make it home more than twice a week.”

“Things will slow down soon.”

“Whateva. And by the way, I like your bracelet. Where'd you get it?”

Geneva just ran her fingers over the new gold tennis bracelet encircling her wrist. She remained close-mouthed as Kyra walked back to her room and slammed the door.

Kyra flopped down on her bed and resumed her studies. She felt like she lived in the house alone, except when her mother made it home every now and then, each time with something new and expensive decorating her frame. Kyra washed her clothes, kept the house clean and got groceries, and her cooking was improving since she had to do it nearly every night.

“Why didn't you tell me your mom was here?” Justin whispered as he quickly shut the door behind him.

“Relax. She already knows you're here.” Kyra kept her concentration on the last problem on her worksheet.

“And she doesn't care?”

“Of course
she
cares.
I
don't.”

“Are my clothes ready?”

“Hold on, they should be dryin'. I'll go check on 'em,” Kyra said before she went to retrieve his clothes.

She came back into the room a few moments later.

“Thank you, baby.” Justin caught the clothes tossed his way.

“What were you doin' earlier?”

“Angel and Q found an apartment, so me and Mike were helping them move in. Didn't I tell you?” he said while buttoning his shorts.

“Yeah, I forgot. This job and school…”

“Maybe you should take some time off?” His suggestion came from behind his cotton T-shirt as he pulled it over his head.

“No, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I barely see you anymore, and when I do, you're too tired to do anything.”

“I know, I know. I think I got some time off comin' up soon,” she sighed.

“Make it
real
soon.”

“Where you goin'?”

“I have to get home before my parents, or yours for that matter, start trippin'.” Justin said, slipping on his shoes and his fitted cap.

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Kyra savored his kiss as she watched him move past her bedroom doors. Seeing him had become a pleasure she rarely had the chance to indulge.

The next day, Kyra was busy at the store. She had worked almost every day that week, so she was more than ready to go home by the end of the day. She was finishing ringing up her last customer when an unexpected guest strolled into the shop.

“Hey,” Angel greeted her with a wide smile and a happy tone.

“Hey, girl, what are you doin' here?” Kyra asked, equally happy to see her.

“Nothing. I'm about to go home and work on unpacking. I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me to see the place, and maybe if you're feeling extranice, help me?”

“Yeah, sure. I just need to check out.”

 

Kyra was beat as the car rolled on down the street, but she missed spending time with Angel. The sacrifice of a couple of hours of sleep to see her friend's new home and make her happy was worth it.

The vehicle came to halt in front of Kyra's home. They made the pit stop for her to change out of her work clothes and into some appropriate clothes for unpacking. There was no way she would get Gucci dirty.

“Oh my God! Mom!” Kyra screamed. She had just stepped into the house when she stopped dead in her tracks, not believing her eyes.

Her mother stumbled out of her room, frantically wrapping her robe around her.

“What the hell is
he
doin' here!” Kyra shouted as she glared at her mother and then at Matthew, her mother's boss, standing in the hall in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“Matthew…” Geneva whispered, signaling for her lover to return to her bedroom and leave her alone with her daughter.

“So that's who you're with now? Him? He's the one who been buyin' you all that jewelry?” Kyra hollered.

“Honey…”

“Don't fuckin' ‘honey' me! You're never home 'cause you're out fuckin' him! He's your boss!”

“Don't get that tone with me! I'm grown, and I can do what I want and see who I want!”

“If you're grown, then act like it! You're up here sneakin' around, lyin' to me! Oh my God…” The anger was beginning to take over. “How long?”

“About three months after we moved here.”

“Wow…”

“Kyra…” her mother began in a soft, soothing tone.

“Did he give that to you, too?” Kyra said, locking eyes on the twenty-four-karat-gold necklace shining around her mother's neck.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he did!”

Kyra quickly reached forward, snatched the new gold necklace from around her mother's neck, and threw it violently to the floor. She looked up at her mother with tears flowing freely from her eyes, not caring anymore about holding them in, not ashamed that her mother saw them. At this moment, she wanted her to see them.

“You still have his name, and yet you're sleepin' with another man, in your bed….”

“It's been years since I've been with anyone, Kyra! Just because your father is gone, am I supposed to stop living, too? Is that what you want? Huh? Huh?” Her mother started to scream and push her daughter.

Kyra glared at her, taking in her tangled hair and crooked robe in disgust.

“I hate you,” she mumbled. The anger was surging through her body so hard that the raw emotion escaped her without her even realizing it.

Geneva slapped Kyra so hard her head turned to the side. Kyra held her cheek in shock as she slowly let her suddenly dry eyes meet her mother's. They were on fire.

“Don't you ever say some shit like that to me! After all I have done for you!”

“Kyra…” Angel's soft voice came from where she stood rigid in the doorway. She had witnessed the scene unfolding.

“Go! Get out of my house!” her mother cried as she leaned into her daughter's red, marked face. Kyra rushed past Angel and out the door like a gust of wind.

W
hen she arrived home that night, Kyra could hear her mother weeping through her bedroom door. She weakly knocked and listened as the weeping on the other side died down. She could barely breathe when her mother opened the door. She was prepared to make amends.

What she wasn't prepared for was her mother pulling her into the room and beginning to pound on her. Between her mother's swinging fists, she could catch a whiff of her alcohol-saturated breath. Her mother had never been a heavy drinker.

She was screaming at her, but Kyra couldn't make out a word of what she was saying. She tried her hardest to block the shots her mother was hurling and to hold her back, to talk to her, even, but when her mother began to choke her, Kyra finally punched her as hard as she could.

Her mother flew off her, the force of Kyra's punch knocking her back, and scooted across the floor. Kyra sat herself up against the wall, gasping for air as she wiped her face of her tears and light blood.

“I want you out of here! Do you hear me? I want you out!” Her mother raged as though she were a crazy woman.

“Momma, listen…please…listen…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everythin'. Everythin' I did. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!” she apologized while crawling over to her mother on her knees and begging for forgiveness.

“Do you really hate me that much for bringing you here?”

“No, momma. I don't hate you…. I'm sorry…. I'm sorry….” She repeated her words through gasps of air as she cried heavily.

“I just don't want you to end up like me. I want you to do better than I did. I don't want you to hurt like me. You don't want to lead the kind of life I've led,” she sputtered.

Geneva Jones pulled her daughter into her arms, hugging her as tightly as she could as they cried together. It was a moment that made her flash back to the time when her husband died and Kyra came into her room one night, crying. She had taken Kyra in her arms and held her, soothing her until her sniffles and “I miss Daddy's” stopped. She looked up at the ceiling as she held her daughter and remembered the times Kyra used to come to her for comfort. She would always remember those times, but her daughter seemed to have forgotten.

 

Kyra splashed a handful of cold water over her face as she stood in the employee bathroom of Butterfly. She had been out of it at work today. Her advice wasn't as enthusiastic as usual, and she took longer than usual to stock the shelves and ring up customers. Last night had taken a toll on her.

“Sorry to keep you ladies waitin'.” She politely excused her absence as she returned from the back of the store. She didn't look up at the customers as she got ready to ring up their items.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here?” Veronica spoke as Bridgette and Nicole snickered behind her.

Veronica laid her things over the counter as though Kyra were beneath her. To her, she was nothing but a servant.

“Enjoying the working life?”

“Yeah, it's great,” Kyra replied with a fake smile.

“I bet…” Nicole mumbled.

“See, this is exactly what I'm talking about, V,” Bridgette blurted out.

“What, the fact that she isn't suited for a man like Justin?”

“Exactly.”

“Nicole, what do you think?”

“Hell no, she ain't.”

“See, honey, the vote is in. Why don't you just give it up?” Veronica flashed a smirk.

“Over my dead body.”

“Oh, I can have that arranged.”

“Arrange it, then. We all know you don't have the balls to do it yourself. Don't act brand-new. You already know how I gets down.”

Kyra rolled her eyes at the false threat and forced the other words that were sure to get her fired to stay in her mind and not leave her mouth.

As Kyra rang up item after item, Veronica started to laugh all a sudden.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“I'm sorry…. I just find it funny that you even have to work while dating Justin. He is of such high standards…and, well, you…we can evidently see that you are not. Whereas
I
am. Your relationship with him is such a joke. How do you two even relate?”

“Oh, we relate, all right. We relate
several
times a day, and let me be the first to tell you that he loves it.”

“I guess I could be mad at the fact that you're fucking him, but it's common knowledge that if a ho is gonna let a nigga fuck, he's gon' fuck. It means nothing.”

“Here!” Kyra said, slinging the bag of clothes over the counter and into Veronica's chest with force. “Your total is $895.48.” She put a wide, sarcastic smile on her face as she snatched a credit card from Vernonica's hands.

“Come on, girls. My daddy is taking us on the
yacht
today.” Veronica snatched back her credit card and turned from the counter, flipping her hair at her rival.

“Too bad you can't come.” Nicole taunted her by making a fake sad face.

“Yeah, you gotta stay here and
work.
Have fun,” Bridgette teased. Suddenly Kyra reached over the counter and grabbed her wrist. Bridgette looked terrified. She had seen Kyra fight with Veronica, and she didn't want to be her next victim.

“Here, you forgot this,” Kyra said with a voice of false kindness as she handed over the receipt. She was noticeably amused by Bridgette's frightened expression as the girl scurried out of the store to join her clique in their chauffeured Rolls-Royce.

As Kyra watched the silver luxury car pull off down the street, Veronica's words lingered in her head. Veronica spoke of Justin as though he had money, when for as long as Kyra had known him, he'd told her his family wasn't well off. He even called them “sufferers,” or poor people who struggled to survive. He had told her that Michael's family was the one with money and that he and Quentin would worked for their clothes and shoes to keep themselves looking nice like they did. What Veronica had said didn't make any sense whatsoever, but when Kyra took the time to examine the situation, things weren't adding up.

“Kyra! Girl, wake up! You've got things to do around here! You are really out of it today.” Regina's barking voice interrupted her daydreaming.

“Sorry, Regina,” Kyra apologized as she started back to work and shrugged off Veronica's rude, snotty remarks.

 

At school, Kyra was late. Work and her home life wore her ragged. Her energy level was almost nil, so when she turned off her alarm clock the next morning, she took advantage of an extra hour of sleep until she woke up in a panic.

She made it to school during the day's third lesson. She stepped through the front door, her hair dripping wet from the morning mist, and into the lobby to see Richard Pierce sitting on one of the wooden benches outside of the principal's office. He was looking down, and he was obviously upset about something as his eyes met hers. She could tell something wasn't quite right just by the mood of the building.

A short man who looked as if he could be Richard's twin, only older, stepped out of the office. He wore khaki slacks and a dark blue polo shirt with matching dark blue gators. From what Kyra could see, like the gators and the Rolex she spotted on his wrist, the man was paid. The resemblance told her that he must be Richard's father.

She watched as Mr. Pierce and the principal, Mr. McKnight, talked in hushed tones, but when they spotted her, she quickly made her way to class. She reached her class and got an earful about being tardy from Mr. Cayman. He was her teacher for her junior year, and he was nothing like Ms. Kingsley. If you could find a pair of complete opposites in the world, Mr. Cayman and Ms. Kingsley would be it. They would be perfect.

Ms. Kingsley was young and witty and kept things interesting, whereas Mr. Cayman was old and dull, and you could consider yourself lucky if you made it through any of his lessons awake. Then there was always the negative factor that Kyra had a class with Veronica and Bridgette this year.

 

“Class, you have one more assignment due by next Monday. It will be the last major assignment of the year.”

The class let out a loud sigh of disapproval as Mr. Cayman announced their fresh workload.

“Relax, relax. It will be a group assignment. All you have to do is compose a paper of three to five pages, double-spaced, twelve-point font, or neatly written in ink, about the three
E
s of Prince Paul and Providenciales: education, economy and environment.”

“Do we get to pick our partners?” A young man asked from the back of the classroom.

“Sorry, Isaac, but I have already done that for you.”

The class let out yet another sigh of disapproval.

“Silence!” Mr. Cayman screamed, shushing the class instantly. He was old—ancient, even—but everyone knew that he was not one to play games. “Now, here are your partners, so listen carefully….” He began to read from the list. “Bridgette Brooks and Isaac Tate, Jonathan Young and Kyle Guild, Kyra Jones and Veronica Pierce…”

Kyra's jaw dropped when she heard her partner's name. She looked back to see Veronica's expression. Kyra quickly raised her hand in protest. Her teacher tried to overlook it, but she kept it there, forcing him to call on her.

“Yes, Ms. Jones?” he finally called sounding slightly bothered by the interruption.

“Can we change our partners?”

“No. These selections are final. If I change it for you, then I will have to change it for everyone else.”

He finished reading off the groups and led everyone to the newly built library, where they would work for the next week.

 

Every day Kyra and Veronica avoided each other as much as possible, speaking only when necessary to exchange crucial information needed for their essay. Every movement was made with an attitude, and every word was spoken with more than a hint of hostility.

“Look, get over it! Damn! I want to get a good grade on this project, okay?” Kyra exploded one day. She was fed up with the stressful situation.

“Whatever.” Veronica rolled her eyes and hid behind her book.

“I'm serious. You may be able to buy yourself a good grade, but I can't. I'm workin' class, remember?”

“I don't buy my grades.”

“Whateva, I just want to get this over with.”

“You don't get it, do you?”

“Get
what,
Veronica?” Kyra whispered firmly.

“How much I loved Justin. Things got twisted between us and I was trying to fix them. But then here you come, Chicago attitude and all, and you snatch him right up. Right out from under me.” She snapped her fingers in emphasis.

“No one
stole
him from you, if that's what you're sayin'. Y'all been over before I even got here. You need to get over it, because you have been tryin' to break us up for as long as we've been together, and the shit still hasn't worked. Cut it.”

“I think anyone would try to break up a relationship that's just a front.”

“How is our relationship a front? You don't know shit about what goes on between us.”

“That's the thing with you. You think you know it all when you don't know shit! You're so fucking blind while the answers are right in front of you!” she growled as she threw a book at Kyra. “Turn it to page one ninety-two and see how much you fucking know then!” She was fuming as she slammed her chair under the table and stormed out of the library.

Kyra looked around at the curious eyes that stared at her, awaiting some kind of explanation for the scene that had just unfolded. Full of embarrassment, she set the book down in front of her and turned to page 192. She scanned the page about economy on the islands and stopped when she reached the section on hotel owners. Listed were those considered to be the big-timers: the ones who owned resort after resort and were worth millions of dollars. Some families were worth billions.

She came to a section on the Pierces and was about to close the book when she caught sight of the name
Hartwell
. She read through the article about the Hartwell family. They owned fifteen resorts in the Caribbean, as well as an island: Prince Paul. The family was worth millions, and two sons were heirs to the fortune. There was additional information that Kyra skipped as soon as she spied the words
For photos turn to page 199.

She turned to the page and looked at the pictures. She inspected them carefully, trying to understand what she was seeing, not able to accept that it was real. But it was real—as real as life, and there it was right in front of her. The truth. The truth was delivered in a form as clear as the color photo from five years ago of Quentin, Justin and their parents in front of their mansion.

 

There weren't too many women who would be mad at the fact that their boyfriend was rich beyond belief. Kyra certainly wasn't. What she was mad at though, was the fact that she had been lied to again. She felt foolish for not knowing, for not finding out sooner. A year had gone by, and she had been clueless.