Chapter Text
“Are you sure?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, Kevin.”
Chiron’s voice was apologetic from over the phone. Their plans to interview a handful of manservants was, at the moment, postponed. Chiron had some business to attend to down south and it couldn’t wait. Kevin tried prying for more information, but Chiron gave nothing more than vague, flippant answers. He sounded distracted, as if something important had his attention.
“ Royal discretion, Kevin. A gentlemen never gives all his secrets.” There’s a second of silence, paper shifting in the background. “But I really am sorry. As soon as things are straight again, I’ll give you a call. I want see you again.”
“Me too,” Kevin sighed. “Well, if nothin’ can be done, nothin’ can be done. I understand.”
“Thank you, Kev. I’ll speak to you soon as possible, man. Bye!”
“Bye…”
The line disconnected. Kevin held the phone in hand, Chiron’s voice still ringing in his ears. With that off the table, Kevin’s day was open again. He looked at his calendar and found nothing to keep him occupied. Kevin had almost resigned himself to a day of comfortable boredom when an idea occurred to him.
He dialed a number, checking a slip of paper to make sure he was getting it right. After a series of dial tones, Kevin said, “Hello? Nadia? It’s Kevin. I think I’d like to take you up on that offer.”
“Good morning. Hot chocolate?”
It was around eleven in the morning, and Kevin and Nadia stood on a snowy Manhattan street. People rode past on bikes. A group of tourists pointed to a billboard. Kevin took the offered styrofoam cup from Nadia and sipped at it slowly.
“This is it?” Kevin gestured to the glass and yellow brick building behind them. Through the window, Kevin could see colorful cutouts of flowers and animals. Clouds and balls of sunshine acted as lights. It looked safe and inviting, fun for kids.
“This is it. One of the first things I did with my inheritance was buy this place.” Nadia drank from her cup and said, “Class doesn’t start for another half hour. Want a tour?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Nadia led him through the interior of the building, gesturing to rooms with her free hand. As they walked, she told him a little about her non-profit. “We do art classes and music lessons. The dance classes are really recent. We had to find teachers willing to work for free.” The two of them laughed and Nadia continued with, “But it’s working out well. I have dancers from Alvin Alley, from Dance Theater of Harlem. These kids will know their culture.”
“That’s … wow.” Kevin stopped in front of what he assumed was the dance studio. It was a large wood with light wood floors and a high ceiling. In the room was a stereo, a piano and a violin. On one wall there was a large mirror. On the other, ballet barres. “This is great!”
“Isn’t it?” Nadia said, glowing.
Not long after, the sound of little children filled the building. Feet ran up the steps and into the dance studio. Kevin was won over immediately by the cacophony of noise and excitement. The kids were allowed a while to play around but after a while, two slender dancer-like adults stepped in and took control.
Like magic, the kids exchanged their noisy excitement for a grave seriousness. They stretched, rehearsed old dance moves and practiced a few routines they had learned. Nadia introduced the class of kids to Kevin, telling them with a conspiratorial whisper that he was a knight. That won him a lot of a fans. The kids suggested that they do a dance for Kevin, and he was not disappointed. A short ballet and hip-hop routine later, Kevin was applauding the little dancers.
After that, Nadia and Kevin stepped back and watched as the kids enjoyed their free dance time. The scene felt familiar to him. He could remember being that small and loving to move and sing but being afraid to. He also remembered a boy who was too small, too innocent to know to be afraid. He smiled.
Nadia saw his smile and went, “Feeling nostalgic?”
“We used to have dance classes like this in Miami,” he told her. “Just big mirrors and music. Sometimes they’d give us a lil’ routine to do but most times it just kids and some soul. We loved it.”
“I wish I had that as a child.” Nadia held her arms, looking embarrassed to be saying the words out loud. “I was in rigid ballet classes since I could walk. Mum wanted me to be a prima ballerina, but I would’ve loved that freedom.”
Kevin wrinkled up his face. “Nadia, I like you and all, but the ‘poor rich girl’ act? That’s gotta go.”
“Poor rich girl?”
“You know, ‘woe is me. Mommy gave me two ponies instead of six’? ‘I could afford ballet classes and it made me sad?’ Your feelings are valid, but let it go."
Understanding, blushing, Nadia said, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. We don’t choose where we’re born or who we’re born too. All we can choose our attitudes about it.”
“And what’s your attitude?”
Kevin sighed at that and thought it over. “Grateful. Knew kids a lot like these.” He gestured to the class of dancing kids. “Some came from bad parents, some came from no parents at all. I was poor as hell, but I had both parents, we had a house. It was better than most.”
Nadia hummed. “I see why Samantha liked you.”
“Other than my wicked good looks?”
“I’m a little too lesbian to respond to that,” was her response. “But you are funny and you are very kind. KJ gets a lot from you.”
“He does, doesn’t he? He’s a good kid.”
“The best,” Nadia agreed. “Even when he’s pushing bugs on me, I can’t be mad. He’s so adventurous and open. Did he already tell you he wanted to be an entomologist?”
“He did. Is Samantha really going to get ‘im that beetle?”
Nadia and her grimace answered the question for him. “She promised. We’re trying not to break promises with him.”
He doesn’t know why, but the statement stung some. “That’s good.”
Nadia looked to him and said, “And we’re trying to be honest with him, too. Completely honest.”
That definitely stung some. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
“Not on purpose, you wouldn’t. But accidents happen. KJ and Sam were so lonely. She’ll never say this, not to you, not to KJ, but Sam felt hopeless. Nobody wanted to lend a hand because she was a teenage mother. Her family didn’t help.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I don’t want them to be hurt again.”
In the dance studio, Kevin saw a different side of Nadia. When they first met, he thought she was all put together, flawless. He know saw that she was scared as anyone else and cautious, and careful about her heart and the people around her. She’d do anything to protect KJ and Samantha. Even if it meant, he wasn’t in the picture.
Kevin nodded. “I understand.”
Nadia exhaled. “I’m sorry. They’re just so important to me.”
“I know and I get it.” Kevin put a hand on Nadia’s shoulder and said, “You’re really good for them Nadia.”
She let out a breath of laughter, looked at him over a lifted shoulder and said, “I know.”
When Kevin came home that afternoon, a light snow had begun. Drops of white fell on his head and shoulders like powdered sugar. He was feeling light on his feet after the dance class and speaking to Nadia. They came to a truce — they both love and care for Samantha and KJ, and they’d be fair to each other. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Kevin stepped into the foyer and threw the keys into their basket. He saw there was a stack of mail on the floor. He flipped through coupons, junk mail and old magazine subscriptions his parents had. He made a mental note to have them cancelled and then tossed all but the coupons away.
Caught between the junk mail was a plain white envelope. It fluttered out around his feet, a deadly viper falling too close. Annoyed and anxious, Kevin opened it over the garbage can. He read it through, slow and then quicker. Each sentence was lined with threats and expletives, anger and bile seeping through the pages. Kevin’s hands shook. He had to go to someone about this. He had to say something, but who would believe him? People might align him with the person of the letters, accuse him of inventing this for the sake of scandal.
Feeling sick and off balance, Kevin took himself to living room to lie down. As late afternoon shifted to evening, his thoughts wandered back to the slum beaches Miami. All black, brackish water and littered sand and not a strip of moonlight.