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Kingston pulls up to the curb in front of a small Spanish style home. “Stay here for a sec.”
I watch as he steps through a metal gate and begins walking toward a man sitting on the front stoop, the brim of his hat pulled low as he smokes a cigarette. The white paint on the iron fence is a little worn, but the yard is well-kept and the paint on the stucco siding seems fairly fresh. Looking around, the entire street is that way for the most part.
Kingston shakes hands with the man and turns around, gesturing for me to join him. I exit the vehicle, still wondering what the hell is going on, when Kingston steps to the side a little, giving me a good look at the guy he was talking to.
“Holy shit.”
Belle’s father, Jerome, gives me a smarmy smile as I approach. “Well, look at you, Jasmine. Got yourself a rich boyfriend, huh? If I would’ve known that, I would’ve answered your calls.”
I glare as he laughs. “Jerome.” I glance over at Kingston. “What’s going on?”
Kingston’s eyes turn to Jerome and his fists clench when he sees the man giving me an obvious once-over. Jerome developed this leering habit of his about two years ago and it creeps me the fuck out. No middle-aged man should look at a teenager like that. “We need to get going,” Kingston grits out. “Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?”
Jerome crushes his cigarette beneath his sneakers and holds his palms out. “All right, no catching up then. Hold up a sec.”
Hope blossoms as Jerome steps inside the house and calls my sister’s name. I have so many questions running through my brain right now, but the only thing I can do is watch the door like a hawk, waiting for my favorite little person to step out of it.
Belle squeals when she sees me. “Jazz!”
Her tiny body leaps off the stoop and runs straight for me. I crouch down, my eyes filling with tears as I swoop her into my arms.
After a big squeeze, I pull back to look at her. It’s been less than two months since we’ve seen each other, but it feels like two years. She seems so much older. The adorable fat on her cheeks has lost its fullness and she’s missing another baby tooth.
“Hi, honey. I’ve missed you so much.” I tug on one of her braids. “You look so pretty. Did you just get your hair done?”
Belle nods enthusiastically. “Uh huh. Daddy’s girlfriend did ‘em for me before bed last night. She said she was gonna bring home some pink and green beads after work tonight! She only had purple and I told her they hafta be pink and green.”
I smile. Pink is Belle’s favorite color and green is mine, so she always insisted on the same colored beads. She has her father’s thick, coily hair which I adore in its natural state, but it’s difficult for her to manage. Every six weeks or so, I’d braid and bead her hair while we watched Saturday morning cartoons and ate donut holes. Our mom was often working, so it became our special sister bonding time. I never realized how much I took that for granted until now.
Belle notices Kingston and wrinkles her little nose. “Who’s the boy?”
I’m about to answer when Kingston crouches down to her level and takes her hand in his. “I’m Kingston. Jazz is my friend.”
Belle giggles. “Are you her boyfriend?”
He laughs. “No. Not her boyfriend. Not yet, anyway.” He winks. “Maybe you could put in a good word for me.”
She narrows her big chocolate eyes, making me smile. My sister is the sweetest girl, but she definitely has a layer of sass that comes out on occasion. “I don’t know... what’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”
Kingston rubs his chin in mock contemplation. “Hmm... it’s probably a tie between mint chocolate chip or cookie dough.”
Belle thinks about that for a moment. “Okay.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Okay? Does that mean I pass the test?”
She nods. “Yep. Her other boyfriend didn’t even like ice cream. He’s dumb.”
Kingston and I both laugh. God, this moment seems so surreal. Not only do I get to see my sister, but I’m seeing an entirely different side to Kingston. If someone would’ve told me an hour ago he is an absolute natural with children, I would’ve told them they were crazy.
Jerome opens the screen door and pokes his head out. “She goes to bed at eight so you need to bring her home by seven-thirty.”
Kingston nods. “We’ll be back by then.”
Wait... what?
“We get to take her?”
“I’ll explain later,” he says. Kingston stands up and starts walking toward the car. When he gets there, he opens the rear door. Now the booster seat makes sense.
