17. Derek’s Destiny

DEREK

I stepped on the lever to open the trash can, the lid creaking like it was protesting against what I was about to do. I stared down at those little pink pills, all lined up in their plastic tray like soldiers ready to die for a lost cause.

Destiny’s birth control.

A whole lot of “maybe later” for a future I wanted with her right now. Without a second thought, I took a step back, cocked my arm, and sent those pills flying across the kitchen like I was shooting the game-winner.

“Kobe!” I muttered.

I hit that trash can dead center, nothing but net. I couldn’t help myself; I let out a quiet roar of the crowd in my head, pumping my fist like I’d just won the championship. I kept it low, though—Destiny was asleep, and I didn’t need her waking up to see me acting like a kid on Christmas.

Fuck them pills. She wanted my babies, and she wanted them now. And I was gonna have the time of my life putting them in her.

I can’t remember a time I didn’t see Destiny as my wife, the mother of my kids. It was a dream that dug its claws into me and wouldn’t let go, no matter how hard I tried to drown it out with all the reckless shit I did when we weren’t together. The more I tried to kill that dream, the more it kept growing, like a fire that refused to die.

I got it—her wanting time for just us, time to figure out who we were now, after all these years. But the more time we spent together, the stronger that need got, like a hunger that only grew sharper. ‘Cause let’s be real—once we were back in each other’s orbit, it was like that decade had been nothing but a blink. We didn’t just pick up where we left off; we hit the ground running, better and stronger than before. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like gravity pulling us back into place. So what was the point in delaying if we both knew where this was headed?

She knew it too, could feel it, even if there was still some old hurt and doubt clouding her vision. But deep down, she saw what I saw, knew what I knew. We were meant for this, for each other. And now, those pills were headed straight for the trash where they belonged.

But just as I started jumping up and down like I had cameras in my face on the court, my celebration got cut short like a needle scratch on a record. I spun around, and there he was—Hakeem's nosy ass, planted right there at the front door like some ghost haunting the place. If this man didn’t have a gift for nothing else in life, it was showing up at the wrong damn time.

His face was all twisted up like he’d just walked in on a murder scene, eyes wide like he was watching a horror flick unfold in real time. His mouth hung open like he was trying to find the words, but all he could manage was that dumbfounded look, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or call a priest.

“Fuck is you doing?” Keem asked, his eyes squinting at me like I’d lost my last bit of sanity. His tone was pure disbelief, like he just walked in on something straight out of an asylum.

“This my house, not a damn haunted house. Why you standing there like Freddy Krueger’s broke cousin?” I snapped back, still buzzing off that little victory dance I had going. My heart was still thumping from the high, and I wasn’t about to let his ass kill my vibe.

“This ain’t your house; this Destiny’s house,” he corrected, his face smug like he’d just dropped some kind of profound truth bomb, chin up like he was the landlord or some shit. “And if I’m broke, it’s cause you ain’t paying me enough. I work for you, remember?”

“Shut the fuck up, Keem. Thought yo ass was in the bed sleep,” I said, my voice dipping low, feeling the buzz start to fade, replaced with annoyance. Ain’t nobody ask for his commentary.

“How the fuck I’m posed to get any sleep around here with you and Destiny sounding like y’all mutilating one another at all hours of the day?” he shot back, his face scrunched up like he’d been traumatized. “I half expected to come in here hearing you sound like you’re her damn school principal and she’s misbehaving.”

Destiny craved the sting, the fire that only my firm hand could ignite, the way it set off a chain reaction that rippled down her spine and made her whole body tremble. Her skin would flush under my touch, heat rising like a fever, and I lived for it—the slap of my palm meeting her soft ass, the sharp gasp that cut through the air like a blade, the way her back would arch, pressing closer, pleading without words for more.

She wanted it raw, and I gave it to her, taking my time, feeling every shiver and every breath she let out. Just thinking about it now had me bout to rock up, but I willed that shit down. I wasn’t about to wake her up again, not when I knew damn well what that would lead to.

“Destiny’s pops know you stole his name? He know you be beating his daughter’s ass like that and making her call you Daddy?” Keem smirked, that dumbass grin spreading across his face like he thought he was some kinda comedian.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “And I hope you not in there beating your meat neither when me and Des going at it, or I’mma start charging yo ass for the live show.”

Keem laughed, leaning against the doorframe like he was done with me, shaking his head slowly, half in amusement, half in disgust.

“I swear, y’all need Jesus. I can’t wait to get away from y’all,” he muttered, his face a mix of disbelief and that look like he might’ve seen too much for one lifetime.

As much as Keem got on my damn nerves, I couldn’t lie—I loved having him around. He was like a little cousin to me even though I only had a year on him. It was weird how things worked out with him. We met way back when, after one of my shows. Keem had somehow scored backstage passes, probably through some hustle or sweet-talking a promoter, and he just showed up, cool as hell, like he belonged there.

I remember him just standing there, grinning like he’d won the lottery, talking about how he was a big fan of my music. And I thought, "Cool, another fan." But then, the dude just kept showing up. Every show, every event, he was there, front and center, like he was on the damn payroll. I couldn’t figure it out. I never invited him, never even met him before that night, but there he was, every single time, acting like he had a reason to be there.

At first, I thought it was just luck or coincidence, but then I realized Keem had that kind of energy that just made people let him in. He’d be backstage hyping me up, talking shit to anyone who tried to get too close, and over time, he just became a part of the crew. It was like he declared himself my assistant-slash-fake-bodyguard-slash-whatever, and before I knew it, he actually was.

It was funny how he carved out a spot for himself like that, and I didn’t mind. Yeah, he’d talk a lot of shit and act like he owned the place, but he was solid. Reliable. The kind of dude you could count on when things got rough. And even if he drove me up the wall sometimes with his mouth and his attitude, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to have the main guy from my squad down here with me.

Hell, Keem even slid his way into Destiny’s heart and home. How the fuck did this dude manage to become our unofficial roommate? Fool had a key and all, walking up in here all hours of the night.

“Yea, I see these Juniper girls be real buttoned up outside but be on some other shit behind closed doors,” Keem mumbled under his breath as he shuffled toward the spare room he’d basically claimed for himself.

“Don’t worry ‘bout what my girl into,” I said, sucking my teeth as I yanked open the fridge and grabbed some orange juice. “What other Juniper girls you know anyway?”

I took a long swig straight from the bottle, knowing damn well Destiny would whoop my ass if she caught me.

Keem paused in the doorway, his hand on the frame like he was bracing himself for what he was about to say. He looked like he was turning something over in his mind, and that gave me pause.

“Say that shit, Keem,” I warned, catching the shift in his eyes. I knew his ass too well; he was holding back, and it wasn’t gonna sit right with me until I knew what it was.

He let out a deep breath, then pulled up a chair at the counter, the creak of the wood breaking the silence.

“Me and the team went out to some strip club out in Westonberry…seen Eden there,” Keem said, his voice low, lifting his eyes to mine. His expression was dead serious, no trace of his usual bullshit.

I smirked, half-laughing, thinking he had to be playing. “Eden? At a strip club? What she doing, handing out Bibles and telling folks to put some clothes on?”

“Working,” he said flatly, the word landing like a brick between us, and that’s when I knew he wasn’t fucking around.

I damn near dropped the bottle of juice, fumbling it just in time as juice splashed over the edge, cold and sticky on my hand.

“The fuck you talking ‘bout?” I asked, my voice low and hard, a knot twisting up in my gut like bad news that had already set in. Eden at a strip club? That didn’t track, not even a little bit.

Keem ran a hand over his face, like he was trying to rub off the memory. I could see it there in his eyes—something troubling him.

“She said she was waitressing,” he continued, his voice quieter now, like he was still trying to make sense of it himself. “Said it was her second night. But she had on some little shit with her ass hanging out, sitting on a nigga’s lap.”

The words landed like a punch straight to my gut, knocking the wind out of me. Eden wasn’t that type. She didn’t belong in a place like that. It was like seeing a lamb in a lion’s den—wrong, dangerous, unnatural.

“She see you?” I asked, my mind spinning, gears turning fast as I tried to piece together this fucked-up puzzle, tried to figure out what the hell had brought her to that point.

Keem nodded, his jaw clenched.

“I snatched her ass up out that club, Truth,” he said, his tone heavy with the weight of what he’d done. He knew he’d done the right thing, but there was a flicker of doubt, like maybe he’d overstepped. “Told her I wouldn’t snitch, but…something is up and I don’t like it. ‘Cause why would she be out there?”

His words hung in the air like smoke, choking and thick, suffocating the room with questions that begged for answers. My mind raced, flipping through the possibilities, each one darker and more twisted than the last. The longer I thought about it, the tighter the knot twisted in my gut. One thing was clear as day—we had to find out what the hell was going on and fast, before Destiny did.

“What else did she say?” I pressed, the tension building in my shoulders like a weight I couldn’t shrug off.

“She wasn’t tryna talk,” Keem replied, rubbing his hand over his face like he was still trying to scrub the memory away. “I was kinda rough on her. I know she ain’t feeling me right now, but the shit threw me for a loop, you know?”

“Gotta be money, no other reason,” I muttered, my mind clicking into overdrive. “But she should be doing alright with what Des is paying her. Girl lives at home, ain’t got no kids, no big bills. What she need fast money for? You sure she was just waitressing?”

“That’s what she said, Boss,” Keem replied, but his voice had a note of doubt, like he was second-guessing his own memory. “I just thank God she wasn’t on the stage, ‘cause I swear to God, I would have shot that whole place up,” he mumbled, still shaking his head, his jaw clenched like he was trying to hold back the rage boiling up inside him.

That’s when it clicked. The way Keem’s voice dipped, the way his eyes shifted—this wasn’t just concern. It was something more, something deeper, like he had a stake in this game.

“Oh, you feeling Eden,” I said, a slow grin spreading across my face as I nudged him, watching for the reaction.

Keem sucked his teeth, his face twisting up like he’d just bitten into something sour. He stood up quick, brushing off my words like dust on his shoulder.

“Look, I only told you ‘cause whatever this is, we gotta nip it in the bud before Destiny finds out,” Keem said, his tone low and serious. “I know Eden is like her little sister. Even if she was just waitressing, doing it there and keeping it a secret is wild. Something is going on that she’s not saying, and it ain’t sitting right with me.”

“Right… so you gon’ talk to her and see what’s up,” I told him, my tone leaving no room for argument. I knew how this needed to go down.

“Me?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up, caught off guard.

“Yeah, you. She doesn’t know you said shit to me, and I don’t want her to feel embarrassed. Remember, I got something planned for Des in the morning, so you gon’ be with Eden anyway. Talk to her,” I said, laying it out plain.

“She might not wanna talk to me…I’m telling you, I got real loud with her,” he admitted, his confidence wavering for a second.

Keem was always the loudest in the room, but I could tell this had him twisted up in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“It would have been worse if it was me who saw her up there,” I said, my voice firm, cutting through his hesitation like a knife. “Handle that, Keem, and let me know what’s up. And don’t say shit to Des.”

“I know,” he nodded, that usual swagger dimmed but still there, understanding what was at stake.

We dapped it up, his grip a little tighter than usual, and he headed down the hallway to his room. I watched him go, the tension in his shoulders telling me he felt the weight of this. As much as Keem played around, I trusted him to handle this. Eden was good people, and if she was caught up in some kind of mess, we had to pull her out before it turned into a sinkhole that swallowed her whole. Whatever was going on, we’d get to the bottom of it—no doubt.