Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood Read online

  That night, she was taunting me, she was testing my limits, and after a few minutes of her rubbing her sweet ass on my lap, I was by no means able to reign in the carnal need that was rushing through my body.

  I fucked her…hard and then left. Something I told myself I wouldn’t do because she deserved more than that, she deserved the sweet connection every woman deserved. She was a woman who needed someone to caress her, worship her…love her. I wasn’t that kind of man. I could never hand over what she needed, not after everything I’d done.

  Shaking the negative thoughts out of my head, not wanting them to taint the moment in front of me, I relished in the positive energy coming from the community center. This was my new chapter; this was my chance to give back more than I should have been allowed.

  I needed to feel good about myself. I needed to have this change, something to live for, because without it, I didn’t know where my life would take me. It was a dark fucking path that tempted me every day. I woke up in the morning and chose to live, chose to move on and continue to suffer with the demons that hung over my head, but fuck if I wasn’t tempted to end it all.

  I fucking needed this.

  “Looks great, doesn’t it?” George, Jett’s lawyer, asked from behind me.

  I turned to see a kind-faced man giving me a gentle smile while he gestured a two-fingered salute. “Kace, good to see you.”

  “You too, George,” I replied. I held out my hand for George. He shook it with a strong grasp and then looked at the center, hope reflecting in his eyes.

  “I had my doubts about Justice ever coming to fruition, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to see it erected.”

  I cringed and shook my head in laughter. “Come on, George, don’t say erected.”

  Laughing, he pointed at me and said, “Before you young kids turned that word into something filthy, we used to talk about buildings being erected all over the place. It’s not my fault you all have dirty minds.”

  “We’re not in the 1920s anymore, George. It’s time to start living in the present day.”

  “Is that why you have a smile on your face today? You’re finally living in the present?”

  Caught off-guard for a second, I lowered my head and gave him a quick nod. George didn’t know the details of my past, but given the news of the man dying in the bar spreading, the giant deposit Jett had made to an off-shore bank account, and the cover-up George had had to do, I could imagine George connecting the dots. He wasn’t dumb.

  “Something like that,” I said, turning around and facing the center once again.

  For some reason, looking at the structure brought me peace, made me forget about the past temporarily, and gave me hope for a new future.

  “Do you have the keys?” I asked, holding my hand out to George.

  “I do.”

  A jingling came from his pocket and he handed them over. The moment the cold metal pressed into my palm, I knew I was going to make the best of the opportunity I’d been given. I was going to try to be the man my parents would have wanted me to be.

  I walked toward the building with a renewed sense of life.

  The large wooden doors of the community center loomed over me as I worked the keys to find the correct one. We were going to have an electronic security system installed, but that wouldn’t be happening for a little bit since Jett couldn’t make a decision on the one he wanted. The man was more than distracted these days, and it wasn’t from the amount of work on his plate. No, it was because of the gorgeous woman attached to his hip. Couldn’t blame him. I would be distracted too.

  With the kind of a squeak only a brand new door could offer, it opened and I was instantly hit by new paint smell wafting off the walls. I was pleased to see the walls had been painted a deep purple, the symbol for justice in New Orleans. Even though the walls were dark, skylights and windows brought in enough light to make the space bright and cheery.

  In the center was an admin desk where members would check in, and there was a rather expansive wall next to the desk that was covered in corkboard. It was going to be the “To Do” wall where members could see what was happening during the week. I looked right, where classrooms flanked the hallway, offering space for group exercises, educational opportunities, and a daycare. I knew what the rooms looked like already; there were enough to have different classes going on at the same time. Some had desks, some had mirrors and exercise equipment. They were well-built rooms, but they weren’t the rooms I was looking forward to seeing the most. It was the room to the left I was itching to explore.

  “Take your time, George, and look around. I’m going to head this way. Thanks for bringing the keys.”

  “Not a problem, Kace,” George replied, leaving it at that.

  Excitement prickled the back of my neck as I strolled along the left hallway. Pictures of athletes from the past were framed on the walls in black and white. Those athletes were heroes, people to look up to, role models kids should be following, not someone like me.

  Apprehension hit me head-on as I thought about what I was getting myself into. These kids were going to look up to me. They were going to look to me for answers to help them with their troubles, to be their mentor and to be honest. I didn’t think I was ready for that, nor did I know if I ever would be. I was a destroyed and dishonest man, not mentor material.

  I stopped short of the room I’d been eagerly waiting to take a look at. This was supposed to be a fresh start for me, but for some damn reason, I couldn’t get over the fact that I wasn’t good enough to do this. I shouldn’t have been granted this opportunity to influence such young lives. What did I really have to give them?

  Slowly, I started to step backward. This wasn’t for me. What the hell had I been thinking? Did I really believe I could make a change in someone’s life if I couldn’t make one in my own?

  I was about to turn around when I ran into someone behind me.

  “Oof,” a male voice rang out. “Watch where you’re going.”

  I should have known Jett would be here today, waiting patiently for me to find my room.

  “Where do you think you’re going there, butch?” Jett asked, hands on his hips.

  “Don’t fucking call me that.” A smile attempted to split my lips.

  “Don’t avoid the question.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “This isn’t for me.”

  “Bullshit,” Jett answered. “Don’t start this crap again. You’re making a change, you’re taking over this center, and you’re going to help the community.”

  “Do you really think I’m the perfect citizen to run this place? Kids are going to look up to me. They’re going to compare me to all these other athletes on the walls. What does it say about your community center if you allow some steroid-raging ex-boxer to teach kids how to improve their lives?”

  “Because you’re the prime example that second chances happen. Do you realize the kids who will be coming here will be looking for an escape? They’ll need someone like you to show them life isn’t fucking perfect, it isn’t easy, but with perseverance, they can make something of themselves.”

  I fell against the wall and slid to the ground, gripping the ends of my hair with my fingers. “The only problem with that, Jett, is I haven’t made something of myself. I’ve sat around, dictating to the girls what to do at the Lafayette Club, but what have I really done?”

  “You work your ass off to give money to—”

  “Don’t.” I glared at him. “Do not fucking talk about that and make it sound like it’s something of value. That is my job, my responsibility. That is not making something of myself.”

  I didn’t choose to give money to the family I’d ruined. It was a duty, to make sure they were taken care of.

  Frustration poured out of Jett. He wasn’t very good at hiding it, especially around me. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to understand the way I felt, and I knew he wanted me to move on, but he couldn’t control everything like he wanted to.

  “When
are you going to stop wallowing in self-pity?”

  “Self-pity?” I roared as I stood up and got right in his face. “You think this is self-pity?”

  “What else is it? A better man would try to make a positive change rather than mope around like a damn fool, feeling sorry for himself.”

  I knew he was egging me on, trying to push my buttons, but I couldn’t help but let it affect me. He knew how to get in my head, and he was doing it on purpose right now.

  “I don’t feel sorry for myself,” I gritted out, my hands clenching at my sides. “I know what I did. I destroyed—”

  “Hey, guys.” Goldie bounced down the hall with a huge smile on her face, her hair piled on top of her head and a green sundress gracing her petite body. “Whoa, looks like you two are discussing something serious.” Not getting a clue, she cuddled up next to us and rubbed her hands together. “What are we talking about?”

  “We are not talking about anything,” I responded, turning away.

  “Jeez, is he having man cramps again? I have some tampons in my purse if you need one,” Goldie said, making Jett snort. “Kace, this is a fantastic day. Can’t you try to be happy?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” I said with my hands on my hips.

  “That was convincing,” Goldie sarcastically said to Jett. “He won’t be getting a movie deal anytime soon for his acting skills but then again, he does have the body for stardom. Hmm, I mean a few acting lessons could make some improvement, but does he have the dedication to make it work? Is he too committed to making his body perfect? Would he be willing to spend time on his craft? If he took a few classes, I would be willing to represent him. What do you think?” she asked Jett, wrapping an arm around his waist.

  “I think you would be a great agent for Kace,” Jett replied, kissing the tip of her nose. Ever since they started dating, Jett supported every little random thought Goldie had.

  “Me too,” she squealed. “Then it’s settled, Kace. I am now representing you.”

  Rolling my eyes at a classic Goldie ramble of nonsense, I said, “I’ll pass, but thanks for the consideration.”

  “You’re passing up a pretty fantastic opportunity. You might want to rethink it.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Fine, but I was only going to take thirty percent.”

  “Nice,” Jett said, smiling down at her. “Look at my little one, being a businesswoman.”

  “Thirty percent is outrageous.” I gave in to her stupid way of cheering me up. Fuck, I hated that she had an effect on me.

  “I’m worth it.”

  I looked her up and down. “Unless you would be delivering me scripts naked, thirty percent isn’t worth it.”

  “Watch it,” Jett warned, making me laugh from his jealousies. I had just been in a bad mood. Damn them.

  “I can do naked for thirty percent.” Goldie held out her hand to shake on it.

  Quickly grabbing her arm and shoving it back down to her side, Jett said, “The fuck you will. I swear I can’t let you out of the house.”

  “Is that a threat to tie me up?” Her eyes lit up.

  “Don’t tempt me, little one.”

  Leaning past Jett so she was looking me in the eyes, she said, “I will do naked for twenty.”

  “You’re done,” Jett responded.

  With one big swoop, Jett wrapped his arms around Goldie and turned to me. He pointed to the room on the right at the very back. “That is your new sanctuary. Learn to deal with it. You deserve this, and you owe it to yourself to at least give it a shot.”

  Jett took a squealing Goldie down the hall and into the other corridor of the community center, leaving me to my thoughts. Sometimes I wanted to punch the cocky motherfucker for his “saving” ways. His attitude to those in need of second chances was commendable, but I didn’t want to be one of the people he saved. I didn’t believe I deserved it.

  I turned toward the room in back and observed the black door that had a small window just big enough so someone could peek in to see if the room was occupied. Since the doors were new, there was paper still on the window, covering up my view of the inside.

  Next to the room was a plaque that displayed the name of the space. As I drew closer, a knot in my throat started to grow tight from what was written in raised metal. I ran my fingers across the plaque as I read what it said.

  “The Haze Room,” I read out loud, lowering my head.

  I was instantly pitched back to the day I’d earned the nickname Kace “The Haze” Haywood. It had been my first ever fight. I was still an amateur, but I was someone to be watched on the circuit, someone to look out for. I’d been so fucking young and full of life and goals.

  My opponent had been young too, not as well trained or as talented as me, and with one swift punch to the jaw, he was down. Total knockout. That evening, the announcer said I’d cast a haze over the arena, putting out a warning to all future opponents I wasn’t one to be messed with. I was going to take the sport of boxing to a new level.

  Anger set in and I itched to rip the plaque off. I didn’t want the reminder of who I used to be. That man was dead.

  I grabbed the edge of the plaque and tugged on it but knew there was no hope in pulling it down. Knowing Jett, he’d told the construction workers to embed the damn thing so I wouldn’t be able to remove it. Little did Jett know, I wasn’t opposed to tearing down walls.

  Standing in front of the door, I played with the idea of walking in, of seeing what was inside, but the hammering of my heart prevented me from entering. The moment I walked inside that room, the memories were going to come flooding back, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.

  Fuck!

  I dropped to the floor and ran my hands through my hair. I was distraught, confused, conflicted.

  I wanted this new change. Standing outside the building, I had told myself this was a good change, this was a fresh start. So how come it was so hard to accept?

  The guilt I’d lived with for the past several years had weighed down on me in a way that was hard to explain, to the point that living my everyday life had become almost unbearable.

  Growing up, my parents had told me my actions had consequences and that night, the night I’d taken a man’s life, I’d found out how right my parents had been.

  Pain erupted in my chest from knowing how much I’d let my family down, how much I’d let my friends down, how much I’d let myself down, all because I’d trusted the wrong person.

  No, I couldn’t blame someone else for my bad decisions. I decided what I put in my body. I should have done the research. I should have known better.

  I was a sorry motherfucker with no future.

  Pressing a hand against my chest, I wondered when the pain was going to stop, when I was going to finally just live a numb life without feelings, without the possibility of being happy.

  That was what was killing me the most. I flirted with chances to be happy. Small opportunities gave me a peek into what my life could possibly be like if I gave into the temptation, and it was torture because every time I thought I could live a different life, it was snatched away from me.

  I looked at the door and thought this could be one of those moments where I had the chance to find some peace within myself, but I was too fucking nervous to go after it, to accept it, because like everything else in my life, it could be taken away from me, right from under my feet. It had happened with my boxing career, it had happened with my future, it had happened the moment I met Lyla. It was the reason I couldn’t get close to her. I couldn’t chance it.

  This could be different, right?

  Standing up, I played with the knob. This all could be different. Who would take this away from me? Jett couldn’t; he was the one who gave me this opportunity. What about my reputation? Would that tarnish the center? Would people not want to come inside because they wouldn’t want to associate with me?

  Jett’s voice rang through my head about how this center was for those who needed second chance
s, those who wanted to be free and learn. Maybe I could possibly show others that second chances were possible even though deep down, I didn’t believe in them.

  Nutting up, I took a deep breath and entered the Haze Room.

  The smell of fresh wrestling mats and leather hit me dead-on as I pushed the door fully open. I wiped my mouth in shock and took in my surroundings.

  In the center of a room was a state-of-the-art boxing ring with black and purple ropes circling the mini square. To the right, an exposed brick wall flanked the side with punching bags dangling from the ceiling. I counted at least five from where I stood. Next to the hanging bags were speed bags, and off to the side there were two body bags and two double end bags. There were brand new boxing gloves piled in the corner, and on the wall opposite the bags was a variety of TRX bands, weights, jump ropes, medicine balls, and even a trampoline.

  The room was state of the art, and I itched to take advantage of the training facility. Combinations of punches ran through my mind as I stepped up to the punching bags and gave them a light push.

  Fuck, this place was amazing.

  I walked along the ring and glided my hands over the ropes, testing their strength. The smooth texture brought back distant memories of leaning up against the ropes while trying to catch my breath during a brutal practice. When I was in the ring, it felt like I was home. I busted my ass whenever I set foot on the canvas because I respected sacred ground. That was what I’d been taught. That was what was ingrained in my brain.

  Behind the ring were mini bleachers that could probably hold ten people. It was a small viewing section, but it was strategically placed so viewers could watch all the hardworking aspiring athletes in the room.

  I shook my head in disbelief that Jett had put this together with me in mind, knowing full well once I saw this room, there was no way in hell I would be able to say no to his offer. The fucker had known what he was doing all along.