King Me

by Season Vining

  King wraps his arms around his middle as he talks to Officer Zander and another officer. I see him point toward the island and nod. They jump into action, sending two men into a waiting boat with three other officers. Suddenly, King collapses onto the ground, violently gasping for air. I try to run to him, but the medics surround his writhing body before I get there.

  “King!” I yell, while cradling Olivia. “Is he okay?” My voice is hysterical. I can’t get a good look at him. I ask my question over and over, but no one answers me. Eventually I am dragged away by Officer Zander and held at a distance.

  The medics examine King, strapping him to a board, getting vitals, loading him up on the ambulance and shouting orders all while I stand there holding Olivia. The doors close, the siren starts up, and I am left in the dust as they tear off down the road.

  “Olivia? Olivia!”

  Emma appears in the road. She drops her phone and starts running for us. When we collide, Olivia throws herself at her mother, all of us sobbing. Emma’s knees give out and she sits in the road, cradling her baby girl.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says over and over, looking up at me. She rocks with the girl, running her hand over those blonde curls and holding Olivia tight. I drop down beside her, giving them both a hug. “Thank you,” she says again. “You are an angel, Delaney Mills.”

  We sit there in an embrace, though now that Olivia is safe, all I can think about is King. Officer Zander approaches, so I release the reunited mother and daughter and stand.

  “Where is King? Where did they take him? Is he okay?” I spit out in one breath.

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Delaney. I need to get a statement from you.”

  “Can’t it wait? I need to get to King!”

  Officer Zander pauses, gives a nod and motions another police officer over.

  “The men who escaped on the boat have been caught,” Zander says. “And that little girl is alive because of you and King. But you should have told us about this. Things could have gone very wrong.”

  Tears prick at my eyes again. “Do you know where they took King? Can you take me there now?” I ask, my lips trembling as I imagine the worst. The darkness that had been fading creeps in on me, filling my heart with dread.

  “I can’t leave the scene just yet,” Zander says. “You’ll need to come by the station in the next few days. But I can have an officer bring you to Slidell Memorial now.”

  _______________

  It’s been two days and King has not regained consciousness yet. His mother, Mamie, and I keep vigil at his bedside—praying, waiting, hoping. His family has tried to send me home several times, but I can not, I will not leave him. Besides, where would I go? I could return to an empty apartment over an empty bookstore. I could sift through the ashes and debris of King’s home. I could return to Marie’s place, somewhere she will never return to again. All of those options sound terrible and so, here I sit, still covered in the nightmares from that night on the island—dirt under my fingernails, a blooming bruise on my chest.

  Nurses come in every hour, check King’s vitals and leave again. I want to scream at them. I want to yell and thrash and tell them to do more, but I know my anger is misplaced. The police have been by a few times, getting more information from me, connecting the dots. Detective Zander has been a huge ally, making sure to keep King and I out of the media on this case.

  I scoot my chair closer to his bed and wrap my hand around his. I squeeze and wait for the gesture to be returned, but it doesn’t happen. Tears fill my eyes and I blink them away. Laying my head down on the bed next to King, I beg God or Bondye or anyone who has the power to keep him safe and return him to us.

  I wake up an hour later. My back aches from sleeping in that position and I can feel the lines left in my face from the sheets. Blinking my eyes a few times, I find Mamie and Hazel standing on each side of the bed. My heart leaps into my throat and I snap up in my chair.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  Hazel shakes her head, tears falling from familiar green eyes. Mamie smiles. “See for yourself,” she says, waving a hand over the bed.

  I turn and find King’s eyes open. He looks tired and in pain, but finally awake. A grin splits my face in half and I want to launch myself at him, but know better because of his injuries and the chest tube. Instead, I stand and place a kiss on his forehead, running my hands through his hair. He gives me a weak smile.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  King opens his mouth, but Hazel stops him. “Now, the doctor said you shouldn’t talk unless you have to, Valentine.” She huffs. “So stubborn.”

  “He’s going to be okay,” Mamie chimes in. “Doc said he’ll be good as new in a week or two. Gotta take it easy till then.”

  “That’s great,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his face again. “It’s so good to see those eyes again.”

  “Yours too,” he rasps out.

  Mamie reaches over and slaps him on the leg. “Just cause you laid up doesn’t mean I won’t pop you when needed. Stop talking, hard head.” Hazel and I chuckle while King rolls his eyes.

  _______________

  Six days later we have set ourselves up at Hazel’s house. King is feeling much better and has to return for a check up in another week. Still Hazel and I wait on him hand and foot, no matter how much he protests.

  “Thank you so much for taking us in,” I tell Hazel, helping her fold some towels fresh out of the dryer.

  “Of course, dear. You two have been through so much.”

  “I mean me, in particular,” I say. “You’ve all been so kind.”

  Hazel stops folding and places her hand on my knee. “Kindness is bestowed on those who deserve it. You’re family now, Delaney. Valentine is very much like his father—headstrong and passionate. When he was younger, he was passionate about the wrong things. Now, he has his education, the community center, and you.”

  “I’m glad I found him, too,” I say. “He’s saved me from myself. Does that make sense?”

  She smiles and pats my knee before going back to folding. “Of course. That boy has always had a purpose. I’ve known that since the day he was born. Whether that purpose is loving you, helping save that little girl, or something even greater… Well, I suppose we’ll all just stick around and see, won’t we?”

  Her words hit me hard and for the first time in all this mess, I try to picture my future. Is it here? Or back in Chicago? Would King come with me if I went back home? Could I be happy living here? The only thing I’m sure of, is that I’m not sure of anything.

  Our first night staying in King’s old room and I cannot sleep. I stare up at the gray ceiling as King snores softly beside me, which is something he never did before. This is a new development since the hospital. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so cute.

  My mind races with the what ifs and every scenario that we seemed to narrowly escape. I think about my life now and what it will be. I love King, but loving him is easy. It’s the other stuff that’s hard.

  Epilogue

  MUSIC BLARES THROUGH THE speakers as the wind whips my ponytail around. It’s still hot and definitely summer, but I insisted on having the windows down. It’s just road trip protocol. Besides, every mile we drive north brings cooler temps and more excitement. I can’t wait to be home.

  It’s been seven weeks since we broke up that ceremony and saved Olivia. Since then, King has recovered from his bruised ribs and collapsed lung nicely. We attended Papa and Eve Anna’s funeral, then Marie’s. Both of those were a big blow to the local Voodoo community. But they will survive this and become stronger because of it. Still, the world seems to hold a little less magic with those three gone.

  I helped King clean out his house of everything we could salvage. Physically, it was taxing, but emotionally, it gutted me. To watch him sift through the ashes of most of his drawings, sketches, and plans was heartbreaking. But every day for a week, we showed up and did it. King said it was onl
y stuff and that we were lucky to be alive.

  Once he settled things with his insurance and hired a contractor to restore his home, I asked him if he’d be willing to go home with me to Chicago.

  King’s face fell, his eyes wide and his mouth hung open a bit. “You want me to meet the parents?”

  I crawled into his lap, my knees straddled his hips. “Well, yes. I mean, I’ve met your family already and obviously charmed them with my winning personality.”

  “Obviously,” he said, a sly grin tugging up one side of his mouth. “Have you told them about me?”

  “Of course,” I said. “My mom can’t wait to meet you and my dad is ready to hate any man sleeping with his daughter. Standard family stuff, right?” King fell back onto his pillow and shifted his hips, making sure that I felt his hardness. “How do you do that? Does your penis like perform on command? Instant erection?”

  “Well, there is a pretty lady sitting on my dick, so forgive him for paying attention.”

  “Stop trying to distract me,” I said. “Chicago. What do you think?”

  “Sounds cold.”

  “It’s summer there, too, you know?” Dread sunk into my chest along with the idea that King may not be as invested in this relationship as I was. “If you don’t want to, you can stay here.” I climbed off his lap and distracted myself with pulling up my hair. “But I promised my mom I’d visit. And I just thought it would be a good time since you’re basically homeless right now.” I realized I was rambling, but couldn’t stop trying to fill the silence. “Forget I asked, okay?”

  Before I knew what was happening, King’s arms wrapped around me and threw me onto his bed. I squealed as he slid over me and placed warm kisses on my neck.

  “You ramble when you’re nervous. It’s adorable,” he said, though it came out in a low growl that rattled my insides. “Of course I’ll go with you to Chicago.” Kiss. “There’s nothing I want more than to meet your mom.” Kiss. “And let your father put a target on my back.” Kiss.

  I laughed and squirmed beneath his roaming hands. “It won’t be quite that bad,” I said, losing my breath as his teeth found my nipple through my shirt.

  I’m lost in thought when the music suddenly goes quiet. I look over to see King turning it down. His lips press together in a straight line and I recognize this as his thinking face. It’s one of my favorite faces—just below the “I’m going to devour you” face I saw last night at our hotel in Memphis, and right above the “You’re going to pay for that smartass comment” face I saw this morning.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “How much did you tell your family about me?” King asks, the road before us mirrored in his sunglasses.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I say. “I told them that I met you while doing research for my dissertation and a few other things. Why?”

  “Did you mention I was black? Practiced Voodoo? Five years younger than you?”

  I pull my shades off and stare at him, waiting for a smile or a punchline, but nothing comes. “Are you being real right now?”

  “Are you answering my question with a question?” he asks.

  “No, I didn’t mention any of that, King. But it won’t matter. I promise.” He gives a slight nod. Silence. “King. It won’t matter. They just want me to be happy. You make me happy.”

  “If you say so. I guess I’m just nervous to meet the parents,” he says, reaching over and turning the music back up. Just like that, the conversation is over. I don’t know if he truly believes me or if he just wants to, but I take comfort in both of those options.

  _______________

  We arrive late at night, exhausted and just wanting to crawl into bed. My mother embraces King like a long, lost son pulling him into the house before even greeting me. My dad plays the hard ass, asking him all kinds of personal questions and King handles it like a champ.

  “Mom we just want to go to bed,” I whine. “Can we catch up in the morning?”

  “Of course, Delaney. I’ve made up your old bed. You guys can stay in there. I’ll make breakfast in the morning, so don’t sleep in too late.”

  I snap off a salute to her and place a kiss on her head before dragging King upstairs to my old room. It’s become a craft room for my mom now, but the bed remains to accommodate guests.

  King yawns as I close the door behind us. “So sorry about that,” I say. “My dad can be…”

  “No worries,” he says. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Your parents seem cool.”

  I snort. “You and I have a very different definition of cool.”

  He chuckles and rubs at his eyes. We both change into sleep clothes and crawl into bed together. The feeling of having him here with me is surreal. Only one other man has ever been in this bed, and he turned out to be the biggest mistake I ever made.

  I curl myself into King’s side and throw one leg over his body, tying us together. I tend to sleep better these days if I’m in his arms. The nightmares still come occasionally, but I feel myself getting stronger and those fears growing more distant.

  _______________

  A week later, my family is hosting a dinner party for my parents’ anniversary. I am in my favorite dress, one that belonged to another time and place, but one that I wanted to reclaim. King wears black slacks and a nice button-up shirt that are absolutely not his style. Even in those uptight clothes, he still looks the part of sexy, cool rockstar.

  All night we mingle, making our way around the room, sometimes separately, sometimes together. Every time we are apart, there is an inert force drawing us back together. It is a push and pull that leaves me hungry and wanting some alone time with my man. But how do you bail on your grandmother to bone your hot boyfriend?

  In the middle of a super embarrassing story by my older cousin, King gets a phone call.

  “Excuse me,” he says, standing. “I’ve got to take this.”

  My cousin continues with the story, waving her arms around animatedly, while I stare at the doorway King disappeared through. Something in my gut feels wrong. I am uneasy for the ten minutes he’s gone, shifting in my seat and checking the door every few seconds.

  When he finally comes back, his expression is relaxed, so I relax. Letting go of my unnecessary anxiety, I pull myself into his side.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  King nods and swallows down a sip of imported beer that he probably doesn’t even like. “Yeah,” he says. “That was Mom. Her and Mamie are leaving New Orleans because of a hurricane.” My eyes go wide, the flash of Cas’s words ring through my head, the name Camille. King senses this and lays a hand on my knee. “It’s okay, babe. It’s just a precaution. Those two leave every time a big storm comes. They go stay with my aunt in Baton Rouge. I really think it’s just an excuse to visit.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “What about the failed ceremony?” I whisper.

  King looks at me and frowns. “Are you a believer now?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just…”

  “It’s just hurricane season,” King says. “We have them all the time. It’s fine, Laney. I promise.”

  “Don’t they always name those storms?” my cousin asks. “What’s this one called?”

  “Katrina.”

  About the Author

  SEASON VINING grew up in southern Louisiana where food, culture, and family mean everything. She has lived in Houston, San Diego, and NYC—all of them providing colorful experiences and tons of writing material. Her obsessions include live music, tattooed bad boys, vintage cars, and people who know the difference between their, there, and they’re. To learn more, visit her online at www.seasonvining.com.

 

 

 
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