Page 70 of Disrespectfully, Relic
Relic peeped she’d kept her answer vague, but he didn’t press her on the matter. He checked the time on his watch to confirm they had over an hour to spare since he’d left home early to catch Jahleel.
“We have a little time, but if it’s some shit that’ll annoy me, we need to go now.”
“I want to clean you up.”
Kennedy tossed out her trash and traipsed over to Relic, reaching for his facial hair that had grown out in the weeks he’d been missing in action. He clasped a hand around her wrist to stop her. Her head tipped at his denial, making his cold eyes soften before he released her and tensed up as she scrubbed her square-tip nails across the overgrown strands. His locked jaw ticked against her fingers, and she tucked her lips not to smile at the fact, he didn’t shove her away.
“It looks good like this, but I’m used to you keeping it low. Before you ask, yes, I can cut a man’s hair. I’ve been doing Tekken’s for years.”
“That explains why his lineup is fucked.”
“You’re a damn lie!”
She shoved his shoulder, and he gripped her arm so fast that she recoiled from his touch, her mind going straight to him throwing her against the door in her office. Her heart sparked into overdrive as Relic’s stare went empty before he backed away.
“I wasn’t about to hit you, Kennedy.”
“I know that. I—” She stalled her lie before shouting, “Well, what the hell were you doing?!”
Relic didn’t have it in him to explain. He gripped the hem of his collar shirt and peeled it off before tossing it over his good shoulder. Kennedy inspected his body from the iron burn on his stomach and upward until her eyes landed on the gauze covering the spot where she’d shoved him.
“Relic, that better not be what I think it is. You were shot?” His apathetic eyes stayed on hers, confirming what she assumed. “You were fucking shot! Why would you not tell me that?”
“Because the less people who know, the better. It’s bad enough that muthafuckas are running their mouth about that dumb ass chain. How do you think it’ll look if they knew I’d gotten shot, too?”
“I can’t believe this shit. I told you. I fucking told you!” she ranted with a clap of her hands. Relic watched her pace in front of him as she castigated, “Acting like you’re untouchable but not taking the right precautions. You could’ve been killed!”
“I know that.”
“You’re not fucking bulletproof! You bleed like everyone else, Relic. They didn’t stop making real niggas after they made y’all Blaise men.”
He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Look, my shoulder already hurts. Don’t make my head hurt, too.”
Kennedy lowered her lids to slits, but she bit her tongue because his expression oozed exhaustion. She watched him tense for the second time when she grabbed his hand and led him into her hair room, trying not to laugh at his fingers refusing to link with hers. His body visibly relaxed when she released him and pointed at her styling chair.
“Sit there. Have you figured out a solution to your problem? Because that nigga has to go and soon.”
Nothing was funny about the situation, but Relic cracked a smile. He tracked Kennedy around the room as she picked up one thing and tossed another, pissed the hell off like she’d been the one staring down the barrel of a gun. He was seeing the side of her that Koda had molded—the side that wasn’t afraid to exact revenge or to do whatever the fuck it required to make the opposition pay. Relic needed her to keep that energy in the near future.
“I have a plan in motion, but I’m working out the final kinks.”
“Good.” She slammed her clipper box onto a rolling cart and pushed it beside where he sat. Her eyes darted to his wound as she started removing what she needed. “So, who patched you up?”
“Huh?”
Kennedy jerked up her head, her eyes ballooning from Relic responding like a regular nigga for the first time. Indirect.
“You heard me loud and damn clear, Relic. I know you didn’t go to the hospital, so who patched you up?”
He scratched at his stubble before answering, “Logan.”
If Kennedy were her younger self—the one who’d crash out when a nigga tried her—she’d bust him upside his fucking head with the clipper box. She simply hummed and bobbed her head instead. Her stomach coiled and body heated at the revelation that he’d ignored her but entertained Logan for who fucking knew how long while he was recuperating. Clearly, she’d underestimated the bitch, and Logan held more clout than she’d assumed.
While attaching a guard to the clippers, she wondered how many other bitches were on his team and toting around the same bag with the exact charms that gave them pull because they belonged to Relic. Kennedy bit her inner jaw to keep her composure. She flicked on the clippers, stood in front of him, and dragged the blade from the start of his sideburn to his jawline. His large hands clasping the backs of her thighs set her mouth into a scowl.
“Larenn.” Her eyes lifted to his at the moniker he’d dubbed her, and he quizzed, “You still don’t know what it means?”
“I already told you, it means queen.”
