Page 42 of Collateral Love
“She’s telling us not to rush,” Channy said quietly.
“She’s telling us she’s not broken,” I added. “She’s telling us Charles is slipping.”
I stood, every muscle settling into place like something ancient had just been woken up properly.
“She stabbed somebody,” I said calmly. “Or she threatened them. Or she rewired the room just enough to create opportunity.”
X nodded. “And she trusted a woman to carry the message.”
“Which means she’s controlling who has access,” I finished.
I walked to the screen and stared at the live feed from earlier — Kenya’s jaw tight, eyes sharp, calculating even in restraint.
“That’s my wife,” I said quietly. “She don’t ask for saving. She engineers exits.”
Channy wiped her palms on her jeans. "What now?"
I looked at both of them.
“Now,” I said, “we stop circling.”
X’s eyes darkened. “You ready?”
I smiled — not wide, not loud.
Dead calm.
“She just told me she’s ready,” I replied.
I picked up my phone and started issuing orders to the soldiers.
“This means it’s time to close.”
Kenya didn’t flirt.
That was the first thing that fucked me up.
After a year of us working together, every girl around campus knew who I was. Kenya told them I was her best friend who attended the community college down the road. Girls laughed louder when I walked past. Straightened their clothes. Askedquestions they already knew the answers to, just so I’d look at them.
Kenya didn’t do any of that.
She treated me like a variable.
And that was worse. Did she think she was too good for a Nigga like me? That couldn’t be true, right? We both moved weight for the same reason: we wanted to protect our siblings. I smoothed my hand over my coils, realizing I needed a shape-up. A Nigga was trippin’ on some simp shit, worried about YaYa when she wasn’t checkin’ for me.
Cherry University sat too clean for the kind of money moving through it. Brick buildings, trimmed hedges, security guards with empty eyes who thought safety came from uniforms instead of awareness. The kind of place parents paid for peace of mind, and kids paid for ignorance.
Our operation worked because we thought differently. Whenever I would press her about being a beginner and not being built for this life. She would smile faintly and say, “And you ain’t never been in systems engineering. Yet here we are.”
Touché.
In a year, Cherry University was humming.
Not loud.
But efficient.
Runners rotated without knowing each other. The product never stayed in one place longer than twenty-four hours. Drops were disguised as study groups, tutoring sessions, and fake Bible meetings. Kenya called it noise camouflage.
