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“Thanks so much.”
Kendrick smiles broadly, and I return the gesture, simply because that’s what Kendrick Cook does to a person. He makes them want to smile. But a little piece of me knows I’m playing with fire here. Is Kendrick interpreting this smile as encouragement of something more than friendship? Because, if so, I’ve got to figure out a way to tactfully steer him into my friend zone, as soon as possible.
“So, I saw a photo of you at a basketball game recently,” Kendrick ventures. “It was a Lakers game in LA, but you were cheering on Malik Wallace?”
And there it is. The look in his eyes that confirms he’s interested in me romantically. No doubt about it. “Yeah, Malik invited me to the game. You were there when I met him at Reed’s party, right? You met Malik, too?”
Kendrick nods. “Strangely, Malik didn’t invite me to sit courtside at a Lakers game.”
I chuckle, not knowing what else to do. “It was a last minute thing. He slid into my DMs, and asked me, so . . .”
“Are you guys dating, or . . .?” Kendrick asks tentatively.
I don’t know why I do it, but I reply, yes, I’m dating Malik. In fact, I use the word “boyfriend.” Even though, in reality, that’s a massive overstatement. In truth, Malik is nothing to me, really. He’s been pursuing me, and I went on a date with him, but we’ve made no promises, to put it mildly. For all I know, he’s screwing someone else right now, and that’s perfectly fine with me. But the thing is, I don’t want to have to tell Kendrick, point blank, I’m simply not interested in him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings or make things weird, especially not on day one of the tour. So, I take the easy way out, when it’s offered to me.
“Cool,” Kendrick says. “He’s a . . .” He sighs. “Cool.”
“I barely saw him this past month,” I add quickly, not wanting Kendrick to get the impression Malik is the great love of my life or something. “I was so busy expediting the album, and rehearsing for the tour, I barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone see him.”
Kendrick tries to smile. “Yeah, well, your hard work really paid off. Seriously, Laila, the album is incredible.”
“Thank you so much, Kendrick. You’re a great friend.”
At that last word, Kendrick looks like he wants to scream. There’s an awkward pause as he bites the inside of his cheek before finally puffing out his cheeks in resignation and whispering, “Cool.”
I look at Ruby and she’s grimacing compassionately, not even trying to hide her awareness of what just happened.
“Hey, asshole,” Kai says, appearing out of nowhere and, thankfully, filling the awkward silence. Kai flops into a seat next to his brother and demands Kendrick watch the next episode in some series they’ve been binge-watching together.
“As long as you ply me with alcohol,” Kendrick says.
“You don’t need to ask me twice.” Kai flags down a flight attendant and we all place orders. As we’re doing that, Titus comes over and joins the party. And soon, our whole group is drinking and talking, laughing and swapping stories. Even Kendrick, much to my relief, seems like he’s back to himself.
A few times during the conversation, Savage’s name comes up, organically, and I feel myself perk up every time his name is mentioned—every time I get a new scrap of insider information about him. I hate that I’m constantly drawn to Savage, considering his obviously oversized ego, but I can’t help myself. Not only is he gorgeous and talented, by all accounts he’s closed off and prickly, too. Which, unfortunately, I must admit, makes him exactly my type.
Seven
Savage
Chicago, Illinois
Me: Yo, KC. I decided to fly into Philly tomorrow morning, instead of tonight. Mimi asked me to come to her treatment this afternoon, and I couldn’t say no. Don’t worry, I’ll be there in plenty of time for soundcheck tomorrow.
Kendrick: Does Tracy know?
Me: Yeah. She’s pissed. Says I’m cutting it too close. I told her not to stress. It’ll work out just fine.
Kendrick: How is Mimi doing?
I look at my grandmother sitting next to me on the couch, looking like a little hummingbird. She’s flanked by me on one side and my cousin, Sasha, on the other, as we watch the season finale of Mimi’s favorite show, Sing Your Heart Out.
Me: She’s good. Feisty and funny, as always. Just really tired. Today’s treatment kicked her tiny ass pretty hard.
Kendrick: Give her a big hug for me.
Me: Will do. How’s tricks on your end?
Kendrick: Good. We’re at the hotel, chilling before tomorrow.
Me: Chilling how?
Kendrick: The usual. Watching Netflix with Kai and Titus. Smoking a blunt. Eating way too much pizza. Be jealous.
I sigh with relief. Call me paranoid, but all day long I’ve been imagining Kendrick and Laila hitting it off on the plane by day, and then fucking like rabbits in Kendrick’s hotel room by night. Thanks to Kendrick’s response, I’m highly relieved and cautiously optimistic. But, still, I can’t help probing a bit more. This time, I get straight to the point.
