Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,258

left with her? With his current wife?”

“Yeah, she was pregnant.” Kai licks her lips before going on. “She was the secretary at our church, where he was the pastor.”

“Wow.” I wrestle with surprise and disgust. “Another reason to skip religion.”

Kai considers me in silence for a few seconds, crossing one ankle over the other before speaking.

“I get that.” Her harsh laugh splinters in the air. “Hell, I felt that. For a while I wasn’t sure what I believed because most of it came from my dad.”

She drops her eyes to the floor.

“And I didn’t believe in him anymore.” She shrugs. “But liars can tell the truth. It took me a long time to figure out that just because my dad lied about his affair, it didn’t mean every sermon, every Bible story, everything he told me about God was a lie.”

“Is that why you’re church shopping?” I give her a smile so she’ll know I’m not mocking her.

Kai rolls her eyes and grins.

“Rhyson probably thinks I’m crazy. I know he’s not big on faith.”

“He has faith in you,” I assure her. “He loves you more than anything.”

“The woman he loves was shaped by my father,” she says. “By my mother even more, but my faith was shaped by my dad. There’s not a doubt in my mind that, in spite of his flaws, he understands faith. He understands God, even if he doesn’t always follow. I’ve finally managed to sift out what was his and what’s mine, what I want to keep and what I don’t need. I want to pass that on to Aria. She’ll have to go through the same process, decide what part of what I’ve shared is for her and what is not, but I want her to know that part of her mother.”

Her smile wavers, bitterness leveling it out.

“The way I know that part of my father, the way I know all of his parts . . . even the ones I wish weren’t there.”

Three quick raps at the door interrupt and signal that it’s time. Kai glances again at Aria sleeping peacefully, reluctance to leave obvious on her face.

“Don’t worry, I got her.” I open the door for the production assistant, who looks at me expectantly. “She’ll be right out. Thanks.”

When I turn back, Kai is leaning over the pen, smiling.

“Okay. I’ll be back.” She gives me a knowing look. “And don’t be paranoid about Qwest and the panel. She’s a great girl. It’s no secret she and I are friends, and I feel for her, for how things happened, but Grip has never really been anyone’s but yours. Remember that.”

With one last glance in the mirror, she’s out the door. I turn on the monitor mounted in the corner to watch the feed of Kai’s performance but mute it to focus on the panel that is just starting online.

“Thank you for joining us today,” the host says. “We’re continuing our web series entitled Helping Ourselves. Each week we discuss an initiative or a group of people making a difference in communities of color.”

Angie, her hair in its natural state, a beautiful nimbus of textured waves and curls, wears skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweat- shirt. Her skin is tiramisu brown, glowing with health and good makeup. She exudes complete confidence. I haven’t had any interaction with her at all, but I’m already impressed by what I see.

“We’re broadcasting on YouTube and Instagram,” Angie continues, smiling into the camera. “We’re also live tweeting, and the official hashtag is #HelpingOurselves.”

She gestures to her right, where Grip, Qwest, and a few other celebrities are seated. I try not to read too much into the fact that Grip and Qwest are right beside each other.

Angie performs quick introductions for each person, famous in their own right and arena, but Grip is the best known, by far. He’s not doing anything that should make you want to look at him instead of everyone else, but you do. You just do not want to take your eyes off him.

Or maybe that’s just me.

A new sense of purpose rests on Grip’s shoulders since he started Dr. Hammond’s class and moved to New York. He’s definitely still engaged as an artist, still the studio rat he’s always been, but there’s more to his life now, and I can tell it is deeply satisfying to him. It’s significance. He wouldn’t be the man I love without this passion, this thirst to do something about the things that need doing.

He’s laughing at something