Chapter 14

***Levi.***

I dialed Kenya's number. My heart rate picking up, as she answered. Excitement.

I was no school boy, but she made me feel like it.

"How are you, Kenya? Sorry I was in a meeting when you called. After I saw your missed calls, I called. But you weren't answering." My voice, hoarse and nervous. *Good nervous.*

"I am fine." I heard her. The sound of her voice, a pleasant caress to my face, like the wind. I heard her hesitate.

"Is something the matter?" I asked, mildly concerned.

"No, Mr Ruthford"

I smiled inwardly, wondering what the sound of my name on her lips would be like, and not 'Mr Ruthford.'

"It's just that I was informed about Hank." I heard her say, ceasing my pleasant thoughts. A deep scowl formed on my face. "I heard he died in a shootout with a rival gang."

A long silence followed, where I am certain she wondered if the line went dead.

"Hello?"

"An unfortunate situation. But many people aren't who we assume them to be," I replied.

"Hank was everything, but a gang member." She defended. I suspected she found this hard to believe.

Gauging her countenance, I continued. "Did you love him?" I revolted at the question. *God, I hope she didn't!*

"Love? No... Mr Ruthford. I didn't. I think am just shocked." She answered truthfully. I recalled what I had seen that night and concluded that she would have felt differently if she had seen her state that night.

"I called earlier in the day to give you the good news that I am to be the lead ballerina at the show this Saturday. I was practicing at the theater when you called earlier." Her voice banished those memories.

"Wow, congratulations." I greeted. Yet, sensing her aloofness, "Shouldn't you be happy about the news? You were sad about missing the auditions weeks ago." I reminded her. She sighed. Yes, while recuperating, she had cried, whenever I stopped by, about missing the auditions. *Now she had her wish, she was sad? I hope it wasn't because of that vermin, who should be dead twice over.*

"You should be happy, Kenya." My tone was stern. Furious even, at the danger the man had posed to her.

"Alright. Thank you, Mr Ruthford, for everything. WouldWould you be attending the show?" She asked, hesitantly.

I paused. Warmth sailing through me, like a tiny gust of wind. The thought of her, dancing for me, thrilled me. "Would you want me to?"

"Yes."

That one word was my undoing. My chest grew tight, as a sweet sensation rippled through me, settling in my groin. I wondered how pliant her words would be, when I did wicked things to her. 'Yes, Levi. Please don't stop, Levi.' Oh I had thought of that, every day in her presence. Her being alive, pure joy.

"Ask me this question over dinner tonight. My treat. I'll pick you up," I amusedly said.

"Alright. Just tell me the place, I will meet you there," she said. A chuckle escaped me.

"No, Kenya. I would pick you up from your place at 6:30 pm. Dinner is at seven. Wear something nice."

Later that night, I strolled into the luxurious set-up of Quincy Restaurant at a few minutes to seven, with Kenya.

A beautiful restaurant situated in Tribeca. The golden lit room, filled with diners, was beautiful. Even Kenya was amazed. The chinking of dinner wares, men and women sitting for their meals, all dressed up in elegance. Kenya and I weren't left out. Me in a navy blue three-piece suit. Kenya, wearing a white, long-sleeved, shin-length chiffon gown and a pair of matching sandals. Pride soared in me, having this gorgeous nymph in my hand, as we went into an elevator.

We emerged from the elevator and strolled into an enormous and ornately decorated room. The only difference was that this room was empty, except for waiters, who stood over a table with covered dishes. I felt Kenya tense beneath my fingers, as we moved in. Lowering my eyes to her, I noticed she gazed at the waiters, nervously. A sudden change in her gait, made me realize that she was suddenly conscious of her limp, making her clumsy. My heart went to her, seeing her struggle. Holding her hand, tenderly, I whispered in her ear.

"You don't need to feel tense. You are graceful, beautiful and so all eyes would definitely be on you. Be yourself." My voice was tender, reaching her.

Holding my gaze, I saw her wariness disappear, replaced by the boldness of a Queen, as we sat.

Over the past few weeks, I noticed that her gait usually became clumsy whenever she grew self-conscious. As cute as that was, I found it a bane to her comfort, making her lose confidence.

When I was certain of her ease, we ordered our menu, falling into small talk, as we awaited our meals. Music played softly, evoking a soft ambience.

Our meals came soon enough and we talked about everything.

I got to know that Kenya's mother was an orphan, who arrived the United States as a refugee, 23 years ago, while Kenya had been in the womb. She had escaped a dispute torn Freetown, in Sierra Leone at the time. A place where her late husband and father to her two daughters, Mr Willis Anderson, was killed. A worker in the diamond mines. He and the other workers got shot by the aggrieved community members, who grew frustrated, seeing juicy diamond rocks dug out from their ground, while they saw nothing. But the mine workers weren't the owners of the mines. They only earned their daily living. In the course of escaping, Kenya's mother had received a shot to her belly, almost losing her life.

In the end, she was brought into the States with her 3-year-old Amanda, as health priority refugees.

A gripping story that reminded me of those I intended to serve as a senator.