“You sure, man? They want an exclusive.”

Kona rolled his eyes. His agent wasn’t thinking about Kona’s choices or the direction of his career. The man was worried about his commission and how much he’d lose once Kona walked away from the NFL.

“I’m sure. I said what I needed to. It’s done.”

There was a pause on the line and Kona popped his neck, waited for whatever tactic his manager would try to convince him to change his mind. Finally, Devon’s sigh echoed in the phone and he cleared his throat. “Kona, look, I had no idea that she would do anything like this. I told you, she just called with a statement she said you wanted to make. Shit, I didn’t even know you had a kid. You were supposed to be training with the Steamers.”

“And I was. But damn, dude, you’ve known me what, ten, twelve years and you thought I’d say shit like that about my own blood?” Next to him in the passenger’s seat, Ransom scanned through his phone, his frown deepening with every message he read.

“I was shocked. Like I said, I didn’t know you had a kid, so we were all kind leveled by that video and then your statement.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done. It’s over. I said what I needed to and have this last thing to handle.” Ransom’s frown only worsened, and Kona tapped his son on the arm, pulling his phone away from his mouth when his boy looked up at him. “Stop reading that. It’s only gonna piss you off.”

“Kona?”

“I’m here, Devon.” He looked up at the Victorian, shaking his head when he saw his mother looking out of the front window. “I gotta go, man. You take care.”

The phone rattled against the cup holder when Kona threw it down, and he gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white as he took a breath.

“You all right?” Ransom asked him.

“Yeah.” Another glance at the window and Kona bit his lip, relaxing a little when he didn’t see anyone looking outside. “What about you?”

A quick shrug and Ransom silenced his phone. “Just people talking smack. Fuck ‘em, right?”

“You really need to watch your mouth.”

Ransom’s eyebrows lifted and then a shift of his top lip had that familiar grin surfacing. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. The radio changed to a news brief and Kona heard his own voice through the speakers. “You didn’t listen?” Kona moved his chin toward the nob when Ransom turned up the volume.

“I didn’t need to, man. You did this for me, trying to smooth this shit…” Kona lifts an eyebrow, and Ransom grinned, “this crap over. Still, I wanna know how smooth you were.” 

“I’m not taking any questions,” Kona’s recorded voice was stern, left no room for arguments. “I’m gonna tell you guys what’s on my mind and then I’m heading out.” Ransom’s gaze shifted to Kona, but it was just a glance before the boy stared down at the radio. 

“Sixteen years ago I did something stupid.” A quick look at his son and Kona relaxed. That grin again, the one that was so familiar, made the tension in his chest fade. “I got involved in things that I had no business being around. It cost me a lot. It was my mistake that got my twin brother Luka killed.” Eyes closing, Kona breathed, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure was on his son’s face. But in the darkness, something worse comes to him—Luka’s body in the middle of the street, his blood on Keira’s seats, on Kona’s hand when he reached for his twin. “I was very angry at myself for a very long time, and I pushed everyone away.

“A few months ago, I discovered that I had a son.” He didn’t realize he’d started to bounce his knee, making his seat move, until Ransom tapped his leg, bringing Kona’s eyes back up to that grin.

“You good?” Ransom’s smile came easier, somewhat guarded as he stared at Kona, but he had relaxed.

“Yeah...”

“I discovered that I had been blessed to have a son that is talented, gifted, who has been raised by a woman I stupidly pushed away. That woman has raised an exceptional young man all on her own. It wasn’t easy for them. They’ve struggled. They’ve struggled more than anyone could possibly understand.”

Ransom’s smile was ridiculous, wide and when a brief blush moved over his cheeks, Kona looked away from him, giving his boy an excuse to return his attention to his phone.

“I am proud of my son. I’m honored to be his father. There have been people in my life that have twisted the facts of mistakes that have been made and led you all to believe that I think my bright, extraordinary son is somehow damaged. He is not. Let me repeat that, just so we’re clear. He. Is. Not.” 

It was the truth. Kona knew it, he wanted the world to know it. Elbows on the steering wheel, he stared at his hands, hoping that his efforts would make a difference, that he hadn’t allowed his mother to completely dismantle the work Keira had done to keep Ransom even, calm.

“The statement that was released earlier today did not come from me but from individuals who I am no longer associated with. Individuals that I will no longer be associated with ever again. I’ve had a wonderful career. I got to do what I love for a long time, and I am thankful for the blessings and opportunities I’ve been given. But what I want today isn’t a career in the NFL. I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know my son and taking part in the brilliant, remarkable man he will become. Effective immediately, I am retiring. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, or where I go from here professionally. I only know that I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I’ve got a lot of mistakes to make up for. That starts right now. Thank you.”             

Next to him, Ransom snorted, that same grin was heavy, shifting into a full-blown smile, and Kona looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Dude. You got a man crush on me or something?”

Kona didn’t care that his laugh was loud. He only cared that his son was smiling, that his joke had calmed Kona, and he believed that Ransom’s anger at him was gone. “Please, brah. I know you idolize me.”

His boy rolled his eyes, deflecting the small emotional peak between them by returning to his phone. Ransom’s smile fell then dropped completely before he threw his cell into his bag at his feet.

He wouldn’t ask the boy what happened, figured it was more shit his friends were giving him online, but when Ransom kicked the glove compartment, Kona reacted, tugged on his arm to get his attention. One eyebrow up was all the question he asked.

Ransom tried deflection, but Kona’s expression didn’t change, and he stared at the boy, telling him with a look that he wanted an explanation.

“Emily’s dad won’t let her talk to me.”

“Because of all that shit?” Kona asked, nodding toward the radio.

The quick flash of his temper died at Kona’s question and Ransom’s seat squeaked as he moved around in it, uncomfortable. “Uh. No. That’s not it. He, um, found some texts I sent her. Some she sent me.” His voice was low, whisper soft, and Kona didn’t get it. Didn’t understand the need for secrecy.

“Okay. So?”

“He said they were inappropriate.”

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything.” A tug on his hair and Ransom shifted again in his seat. “It’s what they showed that had him pissed off.”

Kona’s friends sent him stupid texts all the time. Jackasses pranking each other, shit getting blown up, half-naked girls dancing, those he didn’t mind so much, but he had no idea what two kids could text each other that would make the girl’s father angry. He was sure his expression was stupid, nose wrinkled up, pinching as he wondered what Ransom was hiding, but then his boy tilted his head, rolling his eyes once more before he glanced right at his crotch and then back again to catch Kona’s eyes.

Oh, shit, he thought, eyes widening at his son. “What did you do?”

“She sent me one first.”

Kona’s face was next to Ransom’s close, his voice low, fierce. “You do not send dick pictures to girls, Ransom. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“What? She wanted to…”

“Hey,” he said, tapping the dumbass in the back of the head. “You don’t do that shit. You think you’re Brett Favre or something?”

“No, man, that dude doesn’t have anything on me.”

His frustration was instantaneous, and Kona didn’t pull that emotion off his face. This boy had no clue, no idea what kind of offense something like this could muster. He knew Keira had taught him better, had made sure he respected women. He knew that Ransom wasn’t thinking, didn’t realize how immature, how inappropriate those texts were, and the idea of his son doing something like this, boiled that frustration until he was angry.

For the first time since he’d known his son, Kona was pissed at him. “I don’t care what this girl says she wants; you don’t send anyone pictures of your sixteen-year-old dick. That is not cool, brah.” He hated the look Ransom gave him. He hated more that the boy didn’t seem to understand where Kona’s anger came from. Closing his eyes, Kona scratched his chin, saying a small prayer, asking for calm.

“Shit,” he said, glancing at his son. “If Keira knew…” The shit storm would be epic. Suddenly, Kona’s stomach dropped when he thought of other things these two kids could have gotten up to. “Wait.” His voice was low as he leaned next to his son, but he didn’t pull back his frustration or his anger. “Did you…you and this girl…you…you-know her?” His shoulders fell back against the seat when Kona spotted that bright blush again. He was just getting past the things he’d missed in Ransom’s life. He told himself that missing potty training and first steps was no big deal; he’d be there for the really important things, but this? This was huge. This was more than Kona was prepared for. “What the hell? Keira will kick your ass.”

“You’re gonna tell her?” The boy’s blush was gone, replaced by the paling of his dark skin and the sheer horror that dropped his mouth open. Kona suddenly realized that Ransom’s breaths had slowed as he waited for Kona to answer. He was the boy’s father, true enough, but this was something he didn’t think he was ready to get in the middle of. Besides, Keira had dealt with enough shit. She didn’t need more.

“No. That’s on you. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t wanna know that shit.” His son moved his mouth closed, and Kona caught the withheld breath he released, relaxing. Eyes shifting around the car, Kona shot for subtly, tried to not let on that his worry was cresting and his heart was pounding in his chest. Elbow on the armrest, he looked down at his boy. “Were you safe?”

“Of course I was. I’m not trying to be anyone’s daddy.”

“Neither was I.” The smile Kona gave Ransom let the boy know his father was messing with him. “I was much older than you are now, and I’m just wrapping my brain around the fact that I’m a father. I so can’t handle being a grandfather.” Ransom nodded, released a laugh that didn’t help to calm Kona’s thundering heartbeat. “This parenthood thing is stressful as hell.”

Already it had been overwhelming, more shit than Kona thought he could take in one day. He leaned back against the headrest, shaking his head, shocked and dismayed that his son had been so careless.

“Hey,” Ransom said, smiling when Kona slipped his gaze to his son, to the smile that had returned, moving his chin to acknowledge him. “You just earned it.”

Kona offered Ransom a smile and his attention returned to that house and the full blooms of flowers lining the walkway. Exhaling, he turned off the engine. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

 

 

He didn’t knock or ring the bell when he reached the door, and he was unsurprised that his mother was sitting in her recliner, a crossword in her hand. Ransom was in the foyer, hanging out of sight, when Kona waved him back. 

Staring at her, Kona felt very little. Anger would be easy, and if he was the same person he’d been sixteen years ago, that anger would be fueling him now as he watched his mother’s gaze land on him. But he didn’t feel anger, not anymore. The fury he felt this morning left him the moment he saw the grainy video of his son on television. He’d known his mother had played another card, and that anger had slipped from him. It left him again when he watched that video looping over and again on the screen. It disappeared completely when he watched Ransom and Keira playing the piano, voices sliding together perfectly.

His family; the only family he wanted.

Now, he felt nothing for his mother. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to hate her, and part of him knew that he’d been indifferent toward her for years, when every bit of sage wisdom she gave him always seemed to benefit her. She’d encouraged him toward endorsements. She’d insisted that he hold out for more money in his contract negotiations, even though Kona didn’t really care about the money.

His mother’s gaze moved up, stare heavy over the rim of her glasses, and she exhaled, a bored, slow movement that annoyed Kona.

There were deep wrinkles around her eyes and across her forehead, and Kona realized that she looked older somehow, as though she’d aged in the few weeks since he’d last seen her.

Her gaze was calculating, slow, as Kona stood in front of her. “You have anything to say? Because really, Mom, this is a level of shitty that is low even for you.”

Pursed lips and a sag against her chair made her look defeated, worn, but his mother still lifted her chin, still seemed determined not to cower. “You forced my hand, keiki kane.”

“Did I? Really?” A quick urge to slam his fist into the wall came to him, but Kona controlled it, grabbed the back of the sofa between his fingers.

“You know that everything I have ever done was to protect you.” She pulled off her glasses and set them on the table next to her recliner. “That girl is no good. You have had a great career because she wasn’t around to distract you. A family, Kona?” She waved her hand as though his son and Keira were some sort of pathetic ideal of a real family, and to her, Kona thinks, that’s what they were: pathetic, somehow not suitable, not real. “A life with her? No, pēpē. It would have only set you off the course we have worked so hard for.”

“We haven’t worked hard for shit.” He breathed through his nose and his grip on the sofa tightened. “I have. It wasn’t you busting your ass in weight rooms or on the field. It wasn’t you sacking quarterbacks or trying not to get your ass handed to you by assholes who wanted to see if they could take down the giant. That was me. There was no ‘we.’”

His mother sat up straight, punched her fist against the arm of her chair as though she was insulted. “I pushed, Kona. I pushed you to succeed. Where would you be without me?”

“In Tennessee with Keira and my son. I might have been poorer, but at least I would have been happy. I wouldn’t have been alone.”

“Kona, you’ve always had me.”

“No, Mom, I didn’t. I had Luka. I had Kuku. I had Keira, and then like that,” he snapped his fingers,” I didn’t have any of them. I was left with you, doing whatever I could to make you happy.”

She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and scoff, closing her eyes as though she needed to funnel in her patience, as though Kona was being simple, stupid. “This is pointless. It’s done. The boy will go back with that girl and you’ll go on to play again. It’s best that way.”

He noticed a small movement on her top lip, as though she was repressing a scowl and Kona watched her, eyes narrowing. He made her wait, considered those wrinkles, that hard set of her mouth as though she was awaiting a counter argument. But Kona only had one. “Ransom?”

His son stepped into the room, hands in his pocket and the moment his mother watched Ransom walk, saw his stature, his expression, she gasped.

“Kanapapiki!”

“No, Mom, I’m the son of a bitch.” His mother’s face was unguarded, expression exaggerated and he knew she was seeing what Kona had that day at the Market. She saw Kona at sixteen, certainly glimpses of Luka, and the thought made Kona smile. The shock was there, right on her face, in her open mouth, in the roundness of her eyes.

“I wanted you to see him.” Kona stood, came to his boy’s side. Her shock was evident, and Kona thought there may be some remorse, a little hint of guilt that he recognized in her tightly held expression. But he didn’t have any sympathy for her. She had taken things too far. She had kept too many things hidden from him.

There would come a day, he knew, when he’d forgive her. Maybe he had already, but he had no plans to see her after he walked out that door with his son. He had given his mother his life, had let her take and take and insist until he was numb that to what it was he really wanted, until her need had nearly destroyed everything Kona truly wanted for himself.

“I wanted you to look at my son’s face. It will be the only time you meet him.” She jerked her attention back to Kona. “This is the boy whose life you tried to ruin today. This is the face of your hatred. My boy. My blood.”

The envelope in his pocket felt like a weight, and when Kona reached for it, offered it to his mother, that weight lifted, his fingers light when she grabbed it. His mother’s eyes were sharp, suspicious as she opened the envelope, and immediately, her shock deepened, the disbelief covering her face.

“What is this supposed to be?”

“A payoff, Mom. My parting gift.”

She looked back down, eyes running over the check, to the large number, then down to the memo and he knew when she spotted it—the final insult he left her. Karma, payback, her own words twisted, right back at her. 

“I am your mother, Kona.” Her stare was cold, and she was trying, one last time to assert some sort of dominance, a control over him that she’d lost years ago. “You cannot just walk away from me. I can’t be bought. We’re family.”

“No. We’re not. Family doesn’t manipulate. Family doesn’t lie. This boy—this brilliant, beautiful boy is my family. So is Keira. She always has been, no matter how hard you tried to destroy it.”

His mother threw the check to the floor, managing to stand with a speed that surprised him. “Kona, that haole will destroy your career.”

He stepped forward, but stopped from standing in front of her when Ransom tugged on his sleeve. His boy gave him the same calm Keira had always managed to do, and Kona smiled, comforted that he wasn’t alone in this small battle. “My career is over. I’m retiring, and you, Mom, all you’re going to have left is that money. I hope it keeps you company.”

He expected Ransom to follow him, and he was nearly to the door before he realized the boy hadn’t moved. A quick glance over his shoulder and Kona frowned, worried what Ransom would do, but he didn’t stop him, figured there was something his boy needed to say.

“Mikee Sibley tried to rape one of my friends. She was only thirteen. I threw him through a window.” Ransom tilted his head, and Kona was reminded of his brother again, his strong, stubborn brother and all the arguments he’d had with their mother. Ransom stood with that same relaxed stance, the same side quirk of his head that was meant as a taunt, an easy riling posture meant to annoy. “I do shit like that when I’m trying to protect the people I care about.”

The sneer on his mother’s face twisted and she straightened her shoulders as though ready for an attack. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. I’m not. You aren’t worth it.” Ransom stepped away, walked toward Kona, but turned to face her one last time, still calm, still relaxed. “If you’re what a grandmother is, then I’m happy I never really had one.”

They were out of the door and on the sidewalk before Kona looked at Ransom, and he returned the smile his son gave him. He wouldn’t tell him, not yet, what the memo on the check said. It wasn’t important, but Kona knew the words struck deep, that his mother felt their sting. Keira had, so had Kona when he discovered that biting insult his mother had given to her all those years ago. Somehow, though, Kona bet these were worse.

 

To fix Lalei’s lapse in judgment.