by Toya Wright
Kennedi was photographed with another presenter, an NBA MVP. He was fresh on the heels of a divorce and it looked like Kennedi was next in his sights. Especially after what had just gone down with Ty parading his trick around. The blogs went crazy. The MVP publicly went on his social media and refuted the rumors.
He posted the pic all of the blogs posted side by side with the real pic. In the real pic, there were three other female presenters on his other side. As it turned out, the paparazzi who took the pic was clearly trying to get some cake from it, because he cut the other women out of it. The MVP commented under the picture, “We were all presenters. I am a fan of the beautiful, talented Kennedi. We are in no way associated beyond the stage of this award ceremony.” The statement was obviously prepared by his team, but he stood behind it.
Kennedi put what little energy she had left into rebuilding her music career. She focused on a new image and the right single to throw into the music scene. In three months, Kennedi got a dope stylist, totally revamped her image from hair styles on down, gave herself a refreshed signature sound and started putting feelers out with a demo.
It was a very exciting time for her. Kennedi used her connections to get blog press, music execs and radio personalities to come through. The Divas were so proud of her and encouraged her by helping to plan a showcase. She scheduled the event only two weeks out. There was a lot to be done in a short amount of time. Kennedi was up for the challenge. She wanted to be the center of attention that night, then the talk of the music industry the next day.
The event was going off without a hitch. Influential people were arriving, the drinks were flowing, the butler passed hors d’oeuvres were also a hit. The Divas were handling things. We were checking on everyone to make sure they were straight, staying on top of the chef and bartenders to keep the guests from waiting, even making sure everyone had a goodie bag in their hand as they walked out.
The only missing piece was Ty. Kennedi tried to shield her hurt, but those who knew her could see that she was in pain. Her heart ached for her husband. He missed so much!
She was doing the very thing he told her she could not do, yet, she wished to only share it with him. Those feelings of abandonment hit her the hardest when she was in bed alone. A California king sized bed is exceptionally cold and lonely when you get used to sharing it with someone. She would hug her pillow and cry. Her muffled cries couldn’t be heard by anyone. She was alone in 12,000 square feet of space.
She teetered between sadness and anger. Angry that he left her for a fucking stripper. Angry that they couldn’t start a family. Angry that he ran right out and got with one of the girls they had been with, so she figured they had been fucking the whole time. She was upset that he found her as an artist, a working woman, then did everything in his power to diminish her to a point where she barely believed in herself.
There was a shift in her thinking. She had to prove to him, and more importantly herself not to give up and to go after your heart. British found her crying in the back room where she was getting ready. So British gave Kennedi a pep talk before it was time to roll.
“You got this! Ok Mama? You know you are a star. Everybody here knows you are a star. We all got ya back! We wanna see Kennedi blow this bitch down! You hear me? Now you go rock this shit like you were born to do! I dropped some coins on a new pair of shoes for this damn singing thing, so you better tear this shit up! Wipe these damn tears, its show time bitch!” They laughed.
The curtains opened on the small stage in the intimate venue. Ty was standing in the middle. He sucked the air out of the room. Literally! Everybody either gasped, or their mouths flew wide open. Kennedi went from shock to happiness to being pissed off in one second. He could see the look on her face, as could everybody else. He was determined to ruin her big night. Her eyes brimmed with tears in frustration. The Divas were closing in on him. British jumped on the stage and was ready to attempt to physically get ‘bout it’ if necessary.
“Kennedi,” he spoke. The crowd’s attention turned to her. Before any words flew out of her mouth he shouted, “Let me talk. Let me talk. I’m sorry, I didn’t believe in you. For many selfish reasons, I wanted to keep you home, barefoot and pregnant,” he laughed expecting everybody else to. No one was amused.
“These months away from you were exciting,” he continued and the first tears fell from Kennedi’s eyes. British tried to take the mic away from him. “That was at first. I realized that I am nothing without you. My life is empty. I am miserable. Whatever it is you want…or don’t…we can work it out. I want to be the reason you smile. Will you continue being my wife?” Ty asked dropping down on one knee. The room erupted! The crowd was cheering, clapping and screaming.
The rest of the night was perfect. She did her thing on the stage and the feedback was positive. For the first time in over four months, Kennedi and Ty had a late dinner together. He did exactly what he said during his speech, supported and encouraged her.
They began working on her music together. He was between films and knew Kennedi would appreciate him helping her pick beats and write lyrics. He scheduled studio sessions, and meetings with record execs. What started out as Kennedi’s come back turned into Ty trying to convince her to start back trying to have kids. She was in a place where she could easily see herself going back down the path where they were before.
He gave her an ultimatum…their marriage or her career. That was a decision Kennedi felt she should not have had to make.
“You selfish muthafucka! And that’s not a word throw around. This shit ain’t cool! This is not what I signed up for. I love the fact that you are a man and you want to take care of your woman, but if you love me the way you say you do, you would want me to be happy in this marriage as well. I keep stressing to you how miserable I am. I have had threesomes with you…for you. I have complimented other women.”
“Yes, I’m fucking barren!” She continued, “I can’t give you the family you want. Believe me that breaks my heart more than it does yours. But I have given you many supportive, loving years as your wife. And I just can’t do this anymore. The same way I support you doing your first love which is film, you don’t support me with mine which is music. Music was here before you. I was singing before I met you, that’s how you know me…as a singer. That’s who you know me to be!”
“So why would you want me to forget who I was and sweep it under the rug like I’m just a nobody,” she continued. “It’s like you want to shine…alone…and you want to shine brighter than me. You feel like my shining is on your arm, but I want to build together. If your idea of this is you shining and me tucked away following in your shadow, you can kick rocks.”
This time when Ty left, he left for good. The divorce has been nasty and could possibly take years to settle. Kennedi isn’t asking for much, but Ty doesn’t want her to have anything.
Kennedi lost her husband because he was not understanding of her needs. She did the ultimate to please her man and it was never good enough. She was not willing to let him constantly berate her and keep her from doing what she felt she was born to do. She did not feel wanted, needed or desired.
Her husband wanted all of what he desired without compromise. Any type of relationship yields a certain amount of compromise. With marriage, especially, bringing together two lives to grow and move forward as one is a complicated thing to do. Both parties’ feelings, goals and desires should be taken into account. Then the compromise can satisfy both the husband and wife to a point where there is happiness on both sides.
Since Ty wanted to have his cake and eat it too, Kennedi was left with no cake, just an empty plate watching Ty enjoy his. He heard her complaining, but didn’t really listen to what she had to say. He was more busy thinking of a rebuttal, he was only hearing her to respond, not with the intent on making a change to see his wife happy.
So as you can see, it was easy for Daphne’s words about following dreams to resonate with Kennedi at the bonfire. She’s trying to figu
re out how to move forward, without Ty, while wondering if it will all be worth it in the end.
PARIS
next morning after the bonfire with Daphne and her crew, I woke up refreshed. It was a really good night of clean, honest fun. And so effortless. Dancing around barefoot in the sand without a care in the world seemed so easy with them. No pretenses, we could be ourselves, which is just what we did.
I left my room and walked into the kitchen. There were bowls of fresh fruit, cold mimosas and a sweet, balmy breeze that invited me out to the pool. I fixed a plate and peeked over the chef’s shoulder to see what she was cooking up. Kennedi and Madison were already chillaxin’ on cushy white pool chairs enjoying the scenery. Madison was used to being up early since she worked out at 5:30 most mornings in order to make it to the office before the good ol’ white boys did.
“Morning, Divas.” I lifted my mimosa to them.
“Hey girl,” Kennedi crooned. It always sounded like she was singing. Even her speaking voice was amazing.
“Good morning, Lola!” Madison added.
“Last night was incredible,” Kennedi started. “Low-key, English people know how to party.”
“You mean people from across the pond, eh?” Madison said with a horrible English accent. We all laughed.
“So what’s the game plan today, chicas?” British blasted. “I know you hoes planned something.”
“The only hoe I see is you!” Kennedi said.
“Ya mama!” British retorted.
“You wouldn’t be talking like that if Delores Gayle was in ya face,” Kennedi said without skipping a beat.
“We have to be at the dock in two hours. The yacht is taking us sight-seeing. We’ll get to do some swimming and a little shopping.” I informed them of the plans.
“I know y’all can’t wait to see me in my thong-th-thong, thong, thong,” British sang. She stood up and started shaking her ass to a beat only she could hear in that crazy brain of hers. “British is a baaaad bitch!”
“British ain’t nobody checkin’ for no thots over here!” Kennedi said, standing up. “Me tink dey wan wine on de gyal,” she pursed out duck lips, closed her eyes and rubbed her hands up and down her hips as she winded slowly. Me and Madison busted out laughing.
“Let me run to get some bills. Can I yank the string to pull the suit off?” a deep, male voice said. We all turned around and yelled, “OHHH!” It was Adler and Paris.
“Speaking of thots,” British mumbled.
“Hey girls,” Paris blushed. She pushed Adler toward the stairs that would lead him to the beach exit. He acted like he didn’t want to leave. He could walk to his villa on the sand. We just looked at each other in silence, trying to hold in our laughter like little school girls until she waltzed back up the stairs. She looked at us all and dropped it like it was hot a few times.
“Actually, they like it like this!”
“AHHHHH!!” We all started screaming and clapping.
“You and Mr. Adler were dancing pretty hot and heavy last night, girl!” Madison started.
“We need deets!” I said sitting up in my chair, getting comfortable. I wanted all the tea. Hell, I was used to getting it anyway.
“There ain’t no virgins in this crew. You all know what to do. All of ya!” Paris teased.
“I ain’t never been with a white boy before,” British said frowning up my face.
“Me either…until last night.”
“Well, give us the damn tea girl! You trippin’!” British said. Paris told us all about her little escapade with the white boy. As she ran down the deets, the chef handed us plates that she fixed for us since we were too busy being nosey to notice breakfast was ready. She cooked us the fluffiest eggs known to man. They looked like yellow clouds on our plates. Everything was cooked to perfection.
We ran to our rooms, got changed and got our bags together, we were going to be gone all day. A taxi truck took us to the docks, then we boarded the yacht. In less than five minutes, we were cruising on the open water. The sound of the water lapping against the side of the vessel was drowned out by the radio jamming old school 90’s melodies.
The captain took us to this gorgeous island with a huge bay speckled with smaller yachts, little boats and groups of people swimming and snorkeling. He walked us out to the front of the boat so we could see the throngs of people enjoying nature’s beauty. Looking down, you could see schools of vibrantly colored fish moving around. The water was blue, but crystal clear.
“I wanna dive in!” Kennedi said.
“Not with this hair,” Madison answered.
“Why would you come all the way to paradise and be too afraid to get your hair wet?” Kennedi asked.
“Girl, you know how we do!”
“Y’all wasting time talking…jeronimoooooo!” Paris jumped in and allowed herself to plummet.
“How deep is it?” Kennedi turned to the captain.
“Oh, not deep. Only about 35…45 feet.”
“We all don’t have that natural juices and berries shit like Paris,” British said. We watched Paris sink deeper and deeper in the water. Her beautiful, thick black hair compliments of her black father and Puerto Rican mother floated in the water. She knew how to swim, we weren’t worried about that. There was something about seeing her descend that made me see the parallel with her life. Lemme give you the run down on Paris.
Paris is messy. You know, the friend who is always up in somebody else’s business? Yeah, that’s her. She is a hair dresser by trade. Beauticians make out these days. Looking at the cost of sew-ins and hair, pockets get fat real quick.
Girls get their hair done every week. She has heads lined up to be fried, dyed and laid to the side. Paris is right there to get them straight. She is good at what she does and is booked for months out. She only works four days a week because she makes enough in those four days. That’s now. When she first got started, she worked seven days a week, and what seemed like 24 hours a day. The girl was on a mission.
Coming from Compton, she saw the worst of the worst. Paris knew what it was like to flip the switch on the wall and have no lights come on. She lived sometimes not knowing where her next meal was going to come from. It was just her and her father. Her mother, who gave her the Puerto Rican blood and a fiery attitude, passed away when Paris was a teen. Her father struggled to raise her. Battling the heartache of losing his wife, he also lost his job and had to rely on odd and end jobs to pay the bills.
My girl knew she was not about that life. She started doing hair in the hood and saved up money to get a cosmetology license. It worked. It got her out of the hood. Once she landed in a decent shop, she busted her ass to make money.
Compton never represented anything but pain for her after her mother died. The area was bad before then, but she didn’t know anything different. Having her rock taken away from her, Paris couldn’t wait to get the hell outta dodge. She set her sights on Atlanta and never looked back.
Paris was 19 in a strange city where she didn’t know anybody. It felt good to have a new start. British met Paris when she sat in her chair. Both having an entrepreneurial spirit at such a young age, they were a rare breed. Naturally, British introduced me to Paris and the rest is history. The three of us became thick as thieves.
She never turned away a client. That’s where all her messiness came from. Being around women all day, they had nothing to do but talk. Barber shops are the same way. Being in there, you get all the juicy gossip and what’s going on in the streets.
Paris liked to have a good time. She worked hard for her money and believed that she earned the opportunity to spend it. Walking through Louis Vuitton, she looked for a new bag to add to her collection. She spotted the bag and a guy spotted her. She looked at him and through him. He was easily forgettable.
“That looks nice on you,” he said as she tried it on to get a better gauge of how it felt.
“It better…for six G’s.”
“That’s nothing to a boss like
you,” he laughed. “But I’d like to see you with it.”
“Make it happen then,” she looked him in his eyes. He took too long.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Paris pulled the bag away from her and held it up to look at it again. “I’ll take your word for it.” Pairs handed the sales associate the bag, paid for it and was on her way out of the store. He followed her out of the store.
“So, when do I get to see you with it?”
“Here it is, I bought it.” She held up the bag, then turned around and kept walking. Like I said, he was easily forgettable.
“I want to see you again.” She looked a little confused, but gave him the digits. He called and took her out. It was a whirlwind romance. By that I mean, they moved very quickly, not that it was the sweep-a-girl-off-her-feet type of love.
Trey was a sports agent. True to form, he fit the bill. He played basketball in college, but things just didn’t work out for him at the next level. Rather than sulk in not going pro, he found a few players who needed representation. He had a winning smile, was very neat, his clothes were always immaculate and he was well groomed. He wasn’t easy on the eyes, but he could dress! Trey was well put together.
He wasn’t the super romantic type, but neither was Paris. The whole PDA, lovey dovey thing just wasn’t them. They quickly settled into a comfortable relationship. He kept his home and space, so did she. He traveled working deals for his athletes; Paris worked her butt off gaining and maintaining clients. It was the perfect set up. They found that one person who they knew they could count on in each other, who could listen to them air their frustrations, and make love without being smothered in a relationship.
The talks about marriage were cool. Paris was good thinking her man was making honest money. He didn’t make as much as his athletes, but his money was good and it was long. He was not frugal, but he didn’t blow money on stupid shit either. She wouldn’t have to work so hard.
They finally moved together to a big house. Trey insisted that they get a house to grow into. Paris could have done without the library and two offices that she knew would remain unused and dusty. She knew that her snatch was not going to birth enough kids to fill up five bedrooms either.