Despite everything that was going on with Brother X, I could hardly contain myself as we rode to Sonya’s house to look for Junior. I was beside myself at the fact that Pop had actually sent me on a mission with Kennedy, our top security guy. Kennedy and James, my father’s driver/bodyguard, had been with the family for years. If Kennedy was involved, it meant this wasn’t just a task to keep me busy and make me feel like I was part of the family business. This was some serious shit. I hadn’t been sent off to some fancy killing school to get trained like my twin, Paris, or my cousin Sasha, but it felt good knowing that Pop trusted me enough to ride shotgun with a man like Kennedy. He didn’t consider me just some flaming fuck-up.
If there was anyone in the Duncan organization I respected, it was Kennedy. He never showed any sign that he cared about my sexuality one way or the other, unlike some of our other employees, who were so bothered by my homosexuality that they refused to even make eye contact with me. One dude always took a slight step away from me, like my “gayness” was contagious. I tried not to take it personally. Those were their insecurities, not mine. But it definitely made me appreciate Kennedy more, because he was secure enough that he had no qualms one way or the other. When Pop gave us our instructions, Kennedy didn’t even question the fact that I was the one he was on this mission with instead of a more experienced Duncan. Hell, London only got her hands dirty when she had to, but those other dudes still would have rather had her by their side than me. Not Kennedy.
Okay, now if I’m being completely honest, the fact that Kennedy was so nice to me was kind of a turn-on. I mean, what gay man wouldn’t get excited about going on a mission with someone so fine that he could just as easily have been a movie star instead of the hired gun he was? It took some effort on my part not to reveal my crush, but I did what I had to, because I didn’t want to embarrass myself or make things awkward for him. Just because he wasn’t homophobic didn’t mean he was down with the program, if you know what I mean. Considering the fact that we were entering a potentially dangerous situation, now was not the time to be distracting Kennedy with sexual advances, whether they were unwanted or not.
“Here we are,” Kennedy said as we pulled up to Sonya’s house. While my mind had been wandering, his serious expression told me he was totally focused on our mission. “You ready for this?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Are you?”
“You know I get paid to stay ready. You, on the other hand . . .” His words trailed off.
“What?” I suddenly wondered if I’d misjudged him. Maybe he was just as homophobic as the rest of them.
“Well, I’m used to this kind of thing, you know, dealing with unexpected trouble. Clubbing someone over the head if I have to. And you. Well . . .” He looked me up and down, his eyes traveling over my vintage Versace shirt and leather loafers.
“What about me?” I challenged, daring him to call me a sissy or something.
“You know. You just like to club. I mean, look at you. Your Pops gives you an assignment that could be deadly, and you show up in your Versace shirt and some six hundred dollar leather loafers.” He laughed. “You look like you just stepped out the pages of GQ magazine. All handsome and shit.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Mm-hmm. Thanks for the compliment.”
His laughter ceased when he realized I might have been offended—which I wasn’t. If anything, I was flattered by the fact that he’d noticed what I was wearing. I was just playing coy by refusing to look at him now.
“Anyway, you strapped?” he said.
I snapped my head in his direction. “Am I strapped? I’m a Duncan. That’s like asking a stripper does she know how to slide down a pole.”