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  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, but didn’t sound convincing.

  “KC… really. Is everything okay?”

  He set his phone into one of the cup holders in the center console and reached for the gear shift. “That was Kendrick. He said something popped off at the Kat after we left, but that everything was under control.”

  “Uh oh… something bad?”

  “Not really… bad. Erik bumped into a guy on the dance floor. Spilled his drink, messed up his shoes. Erik apologized but the guy was already lit up. Guy threw a punch, got Erik right above the eye. Skin split open, blood everywhere. Kendrick and Dwayne stepped in, pulled Erik out. Then security took over.”

  “Shit…” Now my face bore the same concerned squint. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah. He’s hard headed, so…” KC chuckled, then pulled out of the driveway. “I guess the guy was wearing a ring, because Erik had a gash, was bleeding real bad. Kendrick offered to take him to the hospital, but he said he was okay. Called to check on him this morning and it turns out someone persuaded him to go to Urgent Care and uh… was still hanging out at his place.”

  KC paused to glance at me. “Guess who?”

  My jaw dropped. And I laughed. “Tamera Louise. When I was upstairs, she called me. She was eager to brag about her evening.”

  “Guess we didn’t have an original idea, last night.”

  “Nah, spin that. We weren’t the only ones with a good idea last night.”

  “See, that’s why we make a good team.” KC held out his fist and I bumped it. “I like the way you think, babe.”

  Helen and Orlando LeBlanc purposely picked a building at the center of town, equidistant from the multiple houses of worship, not far from the Recreation Center and a few blocks from city hall. Ms. Helen was playing hostess at the counter, talking to the two customers that had come in before us. When she saw me, her lips spread into a smile and her eyes grew wide as saucers.

  “Leslie Baker, as I live and breathe! Where have you been, little girl? I just told Lee that I ain’t seen you here in a long time.”

  “I’ve just been busy. Evenings are about the only free time I have and you’re not open for dinner anymore.”

  “Well, Doc Moore said I had to get off my feet, can’t be working these eighteen hour days anymore.” She waved a hand in the air like it wasn’t a concern at all. “I like serving breakfast and me and Orlando are awake anyway. Lunch is my biggest crowd, and there’s plenty of places open for dinner, so…”

  She shrugged her shoulders, lifting her hands in surrender. “Quiet as it’s kept, though? I do a special dinner every now and then, an invite only thing, just to do it. Make sure you get on my email list, so you get the invites.”

  As if she hadn’t noticed KC standing there, she took a step back and cranked her head so she could see him. “Young man, you are a tall drank of water and I’m right thirsty. He with you, Leslie?”

  “Yes, ma’am. This is Kade Cavanaugh. I don’t know if you heard, but Kade is going to be running against the Mayor in October’s election— ”

  “Oh, uh uh. Yeah. I heard about that meetin’ over at the center. Heard the Mayor got a little bit ugly and a lot indignant.” She shook her head, clicking her teeth. “Quincy was always a hot head— I ain’t never known him to have much sense. Been getting worse as he’s getting older. My granny used to say, I wanna buy him for what he’s worth and sell him for what he thinks he’s worth.”

  She chuckled and tucked a fist in her hip. “So young man, you think you got the cajones to run this town? You ain’t been here but a year or so, I hear.”

  “Almost two years,” KC corrected. “And I admit to not knowing enough about Potter Lake, but I care enough about this community to be the person who steps up to make sure Helen’s gets to stay open. And, with Leslie’s help, I’m hoping to meet with some of the more influential people in Potter Lake. We consider you one of those people, and we hope that you’ll decide to give me your vote on election day.”

  “Well, now that was some real pretty talk, young man. Kade, you said your name is? What kinda name is that? You got some black Irish in you?”

  KC opened his mouth to answer, but she barreled forward. “I confess I’d planned on voting for Quincy out of habit, because I didn’t know his opponent. I hadn’t even seen his face and he wanted my vote? Tuh.”

  Her hard expression softened into a smile, from her eyes to the laugh lines around her mouth. “But now this tall, handsome young thing come in here with Leslie, who knows this town like the back of her hand, talking about caring about the community and being everything Quincy aint. I say, anybody that Leslie trusts can earn my vote.”

  “I appreciate that, Ms Helen. I’d also appreciate a plate or two of whatever is smelling so good in your kitchen ‘cause I’m starving and my body is ready.”

  I’d never seen Ms. Helen so delighted to serve someone. She set us up at a small table with the usual plastic gingham table cloth near a window.

  “I’ll be right back with a couple of plates for ya’ll,” she said, as soon as we’d been seated and waddled between the tables back to the kitchen.

  “We don’t get a menu?” KC asked, his gaze bouncing around at the other tables. His knees brushed mine under the table, but I didn’t really mind.

  “Helen’s is the kind of place where you eat whatever she cooked,” I explained. “There’s no menu, except what she puts on that board up there.”

  I pointed toward the chalkboard that hung above the front counter. “Today she’s serving buttermilk fried chicken, collard and turnip greens— if you want them with turkey, just ask— candied yams, macaroni and cheese, black eyed peas, and cornbread and biscuits with butter and honey. That’s pretty much the Sunday menu.”

  I leaned in, almost whispering. “Now, if you want something special, you call her the Friday before and place your order. She’ll have a meal ready for you to pick up. Her family is Cajun, so she can do jambalaya, gumbo, shrimp creole, boudin... and her red beans and rice will make you cry.”

  As we talked, food started appearing, starting with fluffy biscuits and thick squares of cornbread with cute little stoneware cups of butter and honey. I caught KC practically drooling as the towel covered basket hit the table.

  “Does Sunday dinner come with a gym membership?”

  I laughed. “We haven’t even started talking about dessert. She serves the best pecan pie I’ve ever tasted, and that’s saying something cause my Grandy could throw down. Now you see why I haven’t been in here in a while.”

  “Well, that stops now, because I’m about to get fat up in here today.”

  He plucked a slice of cornbread from the basket and took an enormous bite, followed by a gut level groan and his eyes rolling back in his head. I picked out a biscuit the size of my fist and reached for the butter.

  “I’m glad you like it here. It’s one of my favorites. So now that you’ve been in here and talked to her, she’ll expect to see you again.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” he said, his mouth full of cornbread.

  “And she’ll sing your praises to everyone that comes in here. I suggest you get a picture with her. How is Kendrick coming with your campaign website?”

  He swallowed, but his cornbread was primed for the next bite. “I’m supposed to look at it in the morning, give my final okay.”

  “I’ll take a shot with my phone and send it to Tamera so she can work her magic. You should add the photo to a prominent place on your home page. She’ll look for herself there. Same with the pictures we took last night.”

  “I’ll make sure they get on there,” he said, around the last bite of cornbread.

  “We need some shots blown up, big enough to hang in the window at the Curl & Dye. And Guys N’ Dolls. Do you have a campaign headquarters yet?”

  “Not yet. But I’m thinking…”

  He cleared his throat and straightened up, folding his arms and leaning forw
ard. “I’m thinking about shutting down the Dolls side of the shop and using that as my headquarters. I don’t need much room and I don’t want to rent a place for what will amount to a few weeks. I can fit a few more chairs on the Guys side and move the rest of the chairs…”

  His brows lifted. “Do you want some salon chairs? I bought them used but they’re in good shape.”

  I blinked, confused. In the last few seconds, KC had said something about shutting down half his shop and in the next breath offered me chairs. “What… wait. Why would you close down half of your shop? And I can’t afford to buy those chairs. You know that.”

  “I’m not talking about you buying them. You’d be… storing them for me, if you want to call it that. I can put them in storage or you can use them. Look…” KC reached for a napkin and wiped the buttery residue off of his fingers, then reached for the tall glass of water the waitress set in front of him.

  “The Dolls side of the salon is a challenge. My heart is not in meeting that challenge. Women’s hair is…” He whistled, shaking his head. “I’m not into all that doing good hair stuff Tamera was going on about; that’s all Curl & Dye. If a head takes more than ten minutes, I’m all for sending them over to you. Especially now that I know Tamera can cut her ass off. We get a ton of business just on maintenance cuts and even without the Dolls side, I’m making profit.”

  “So you are sending business over to my shop. I’ve noticed a lot more traffic lately.”

  “Les, I have one stylist and she’s better as a barber. I don’t want to mess up somebody’s head because I’m trying to be the hottest thing going. So maybe, until this election is over, I don’t have a Doll’s side of the shop. That gives me space to run my campaign.”

  The hair on my arms stood up straight. KC didn’t even understand the importance of what was happening— he was so damn nonchalant, like it was so easy for him to just toss my business back over to me.

  “I really want to argue with you about this…” I started, my voice shaking with emotion. I swiped at a tear. “I mean, I shouldn’t let you shut down half your shop.”

  “But?”

  “But I’m not going to. If you’re willing to send the business, I’ll take it. But after the election—”

  He reached across the table and grabbed my hand, curling his pinkie finger around mine. “I’m not competing with you anymore, Leslie. Me and you, we’re partners. It’s the only way we can move forward. And once this election settles out, we figure out how we make this work long term. Deal?”

  I sniffled and sat up straight, got myself together. “Deal. Thank you.”

  A waitress arrived and began to fill the table with plates of food. KC rubbed his hands together, his eyes virtually dancing with glee.

  “Don’t thank me. You’re helping me. Let’s eat. And let’s talk about when I can get rid of those chairs. We have headquarters to set up.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Leslie

  * * *

  I pressed ‘end’ on a call just in time to see the way KC and Erik had to practically drag themselves through the front door at Guys N’ Dolls.

  “There’s gotta be a way to bottle and sell all that energy kids have.”

  “There is, but it’s illegal.”

  I grinned, a hand on my hip. “Look at you two. Don’t tell me some ten year olds ran two grown men ragged.”

  “Two old grown men.”

  KC had finally heeded my pointed and relentless advice to coach the youth basketball program. His team was comprised of 9 to 12 year olds and was co-ed. That many boys would be a challenge, but refereeing boys and girls— girls who could play serious ball— was a full time job. The boys thought the girls had no place on the team but KC was determined to find and mentor the next WNBA legend Sheryl Swoops.

  KC wasn’t the only recruit to the coaching roster. He felt like more people should feel his pain, so he made Erik his assistant coach. Kendrick helped as much as he could, but since baby Amerie made her debut, he’d been preoccupied.

  KC’s campaign, dubbed “It’s Time for Change”, was underway. He’d finished clearing out the Dolls side of the shop and set up his makeshift campaign headquarters. The Guys side ran like clockwork as usual, but on the other side of the wall were long tables and chairs, mobile phones plugged in and charging, a desk with a laptop and printer connected to it, and stacks on stacks of campaign paraphernalia— posters, yard signs, flyers, brochures, postcards, all bearing KC’s likeness.

  The Curl & Dye took the chairs that KC intended to “store” and swapped out my re-engineered laundry sink, which KC made fun of nonstop, for an actual shampoo bowl. We also took a few cabinets to store extra product that TC had ordered but never used.

  We’d coated both sides of Potter Lake with flyers and postcards, gone to every business to drop off brochures, shake hands, say hello. There were yard signs and banners and almost life-sized posters hanging in most of the storefronts. We’d caught Mayor Adams by surprise, it seemed. He’d never campaigned because, aside from the first election, he’d never had to.

  “Rough night?” I asked, lifting my face to KC for a kiss. He dropped his lips to mine and gave me the usual loud smooch that made everyone groan.

  “Babe, these kids. Like... I’m pretty sure their parents are Adams voters and they’re feeding them sugar before practice, so I’ll be too tired to run this campaign.”

  He dropped heavily into a chair and stretched out his legs. He was wearing his brace, but mindlessly massaging his knee.

  I hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but I’d told him weeks before that he was always limping and his knee was always hurting. Advil wasn’t cutting it anymore— he was taking so many pills for pain relief and didn’t seem to be getting any. The Advil would burn a hole in his stomach before it would relieve any real pain. He needed to go to a doctor, but every time I brought up the subject, he’d change it to something inane. And then limp away.

  I got it. He didn't want to talk about the reason he had to leave the NBA, but his quality of life was slowly declining. We hadn’t been together but a few weeks, but I was hoping for a good, long future with him, one where he could run after his children, play basketball with his sons— or daughters, and not let pain or injury change the course of his life again.

  KC saw me eyeing him, and then his knee. He stopped rubbing and brightened, wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me toward him. I stepped between his legs and gingerly sat on his lap, on the leg that wasn’t giving him fits of pain.

  “It’s late. Why are you still here?”

  “I was on the phone with Arletha at the news station about those pictures.”

  “Did she say she was planning on using them?”

  “She had to do the 8 o’clock newscast, then get ready for the 11, so we didn’t have a long talk, but I got the idea that she wasn’t really interested in them. I think people are about sick of Quincy Adams.”

  Mayor Adams had started playing dirty, bringing up innocuous issues and creating drama. Some of the photos we’d taken at the Kit Kat a month before were posted to a private Facebook page. Somehow, they ended up in Mayor Adams’ hands and he’d had a field day with them, insinuating that KC was a “rich party boy” who didn’t have the town’s best interest at heart.

  I yawned and propped an elbow up on his shoulder, then leaned my head in my palm. “I am tired, though. It’s been a long day. Are you ready?”

  “In a minute. I want to see if TC left today’s receipts on my desk. I can drop off the deposit in the morning.”

  I kissed his cheek and got up from his lap. “Okay. I’ll shut down here and meet you at the front door in a few.”

  I watched him get up, only using one leg, and limp around the corner to the Guys side of the shop.

  “It’s getting worse,” I heard behind me. Erik had been sitting across the room the entire time, his Nike clad feet crossed at the ankle. His arms were folded across his chest and his gaze was on the partition that divided
the two sides of the shop. “He never used to limp like that.”

  “Did something happen tonight? Why is it so bad?”

  Erik nodded once, a dip of his head. He sucked in a breath and sat up. “Trying to show the kids proper form for a lay-up. I told him, you know, that’s why I’m here. Let me show them. I’ve done a lay-up or two in my life.”

  Erik shook his head. “Stubborn as hell. Determined to do it his way, on his own. He runs down the court, comes in for the shot. He made it, but when he landed, he like... something must have happened, because he fell out. He was trying to be strong for the kids, but I think he hurt something.”

  Just as I had figured, he was injured and it wasn’t going to heal itself. “Thanks for telling me, Erik. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Yep.” He kicked his feet out, then and stood, stretching his arms and barreling his chest before relaxing. He looked like he was ready to pass out. “Ya’ll about to bounce?”

  I nodded. “You headed over to Tamera’s?”

  He nodded and tried to hide a smile but the turned up corners of his mouth were a dead giveaway. “Her mom is working overnight. I told her I’d come by, eat up her food, keep her company.”

  “Good. I’m glad she has someone to… keep her company. You know how to get along with Ms. Gina, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He dug his keys out of his pocket and shuffled toward the door. “We have an understanding. As long as I eat everything she cooks and treat her daughter right, I’m welcome in her house. Either of those start to falter, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like it ain’t gonna be a problem.”

  “Not at all. See ya’ll.” He pushed his way out of the front door. We weren’t too far behind him. KC followed me out, shut off the lights except the emergency lamps, and locked the doors behind him.

  We hopped into the truck and KC started it up. For the past few weeks, I’d been staying with KC. If I went home, it was to pick up more clothes, shoes or something I needed from the house. It was grating on my mother’s last nerve, I just knew it. I could sense Lee Baker’s moods from across the lake.