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“No, Cameron, you don’t understand. Cheryl Lee is a liar, and if there is one thing I will cut out from my life faster than a cancerous sore, it’s a fucking liar.” A feverish light enters Kenya’s eyes unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The natural warmth in her brown irises is nowhere in sight.
“That woman…she has no idea the devastation that lies cause. How easy telling a little lie can literally destroy people’s lives. She’s a monster for what she did. She was so casual, so confident. As if—” Kenya’s words light my fear anew.
I now understand my unease every time she mentions her trust in me. Based on her emotional reaction, there is an overwhelming responsibility that goes with her unwavering belief in someone. And unbeknown to her, I’ve already tarnished her faith in me.
Kenya frees herself from my hold. With surprising strength, she grabs onto my hands. “Cameron, you have to promise me that you will never lie to me.Never!”
“Kenya, everybody lies. Even when they don’t mean to. I’ll promise to try—”
She shakes her head. “That’s not enough. You can’t lie. Not even a fib. You never know what it will lead to.” Kenya squeezes my hands. “Promise me Cameron, because if you ever lie to me, I will never forgive you.”
“Kenya, come on. That’s an extreme response. I understand emotions were high today with the stunt Cheryl Lee pulled. If Pedro hadn’t proven your innocence, the only thing at risk was your reputation. And we can always rebuild that.”
“You don’t know that!”
I drag her shaking body to the couch. “I get the feeling there is something more going on here. Talk to me, Kenya.” I recline until my back meets the cushion, pull Kenya’s body over mine, and cage her in my arms.
Time passes as her breathing evens and her shaking subsides. In a tiny voice, she says, “A little white lie took my parents from me. So please stop downplaying the effects of what lying can do to people. It left me an orphan with major trust issues. I barely trust myself to know if what I feel—” Kenya closes her eyes and breathes deeply for five beats. “Have you never questioned why you’re the first person I allowed myself to be in a relationship with? This is why. And this is why I need you to promise me that you’ll never lie to me.”
My initial instinct is to say yes, but my circumstances hold me back. I can’t make this promise until I’ve come clean. As I stare into Kenya’s desperate eyes, one thing becomes clear. Until Kenya can declare her love for me, I can’t confess much less make a promise I’m already breaking.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
Kenya
After revealing Cheryl Lee’s plot to the committee members I leave the rest of the meeting in Cameron’s capable hands to wander Escondido Bay. Between the residual rage from Cheryl Lee’s actions, the painful loss her cruelty brought up, and Cameron’s disappointing deflection the last night, no one emotion holds a foothold on my spirit for long.
Jazzy isn’t home and returning to an empty house and a wary cat that hasn’t forgiven me for scaring her holds no appeal. Neither does visiting Roxy at her diner. With no appetite, comfort food isn’t enough to brave Roxy’s playful intrusiveness.
Somehow, I end up pulling in front of Glamma’s house. A song that I’ve come to recognize as Liquid Obsession’s last hit blares from inside. I let myself in and follow the sound and stall at the living room entrance.
“Why does this feel like deja vu?” I mutter.
The room is packed with Glamma’s fangirls. They are in an assembly line formation, singing to the song playing on the stereo. I bypass them in search of their leader.
She isn’t on the first floor. Upstairs, a stack of boxes prop open the door to Glamma’s room. I call out to her and wait for her permission before entering.
“Kiwi, what a surprise. What brings you by?” Onyx nervously shifts in front of a bundle on the bed.
With so much weighing on my thoughts I have no emotional or mental capacity to deal with Glamma’s latest stunt. Some of my turmoil must have reflected on my face or through my limp posture because Onyx extends her hands to me.
“Tell Glamma all about it.”
The bones keeping my body upright melt and I fold into her waiting arms. I rest my head on her shoulder. “Two words. Cheryl Lee.”
“That skank ass ho is at it again?” Glamma pats my spine. “When you’re ready, I’ll change into my ho stompers and were going to pay her a visit.”
“You know I don’t condone your level of violence.”
“You should. People will think twice before messing with you.”
“Yeah, I’m still not going with you.”
“You’re no fun. Well, tell me what she did this time,” Glamma requests. Other than a few no-she-didn’t comments, Glamma mostly listens as I recount yesterday’s events.
Her silence once I finish my retelling causes me to fidget.
Too restless to remain in her arms, I ask, “Why aren’t you speaking?”
