The Appraisal

by Brielle Montgomery

  Jayla didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she felt a slight cramp in her chest. Relieved about her sister, she let it out. Thank God she was all right. For a brief moment, Jayla felt her heart lift and her tense muscles relax inch by wonderful inch. She had to get to Jocelyn. Needed to see her. To see for herself, to hug her, something. The threat of losing her had almost been too much to bear.

  “What about the baby?” Jackie asked.

  It was as if the news was broadcast on the doctor’s face. Jayla felt every muscle tighten.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Jayla shut her eyes as the tears erupted once more. Her body felt dense and hollow. The doctor kept murmuring apologies, but his voice sounded so distant. She pictured her nephew, a nameless, faceless shadow, whom they had shopped for, prepped for, and waited for. And who had died before he had even had a chance.

  * * *

  Jocelyn was curled up in the fetal position, her back toward the door. Her face was half hidden, but Jayla could see her sister’s hands fisted against white cotton sheets. Her complexion wasn’t the usual caramel with that recognizable pregnancy glow. No, that was long gone. She looked more ashen then anything, a cross between gray and pastel brown, as if she’d been watered down. The hospital gown she wore was a crisp white, and it seemed to underscore the change in Jocelyn’s complexion. Jayla shuddered. The woman was like a ghost. And her anguish permeated the small hospital room.

  Jocelyn remained motionless even after the door’s quiet click echoed off the walls. Jayla would’ve thought she was asleep if not for her fingers’ subtle caressing of the empty bassinet at the side of her bed. A tray of food sat on the table beside her, the lunch completely untouched.

  Jayla had requested privacy, but now that just she was alone with Jocelyn in the room, she felt claustrophobic, as if she was choking.

  “Hey, Joce.” Jayla took another tentative step toward the center of the room. “Do you feel like talking?”

  “No.” Joce’s one-word answer, delivered in a low voice, was harsh.

  “Why don’t I help you sit up and come out from under the covers?”

  “Get the hell out, Jayla,” she said.

  Jayla sighed and ignoring the command, sat a gentle hip on the side of the bed. “Maybe it’ll help if you talk about it.” She shut her eyes against the guilt that was exploding in the pit of her stomach.

  When Jocelyn made no move to answer, Jayla pressed on. “I’m sorry, Joce.” Pause. No response. Jayla opened her mouth to speak again and then closed it on a frown when the door swung open and two police officers entered the room.

  The dark-haired one introduced himself first. “Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Lieutenant Torres.” His fluid Spanish accent wrapped around each word. “And this is my partner, Detective Morrell. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask Jocelyn Morgan some questions.”

  Jayla stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, I do mind.”

  Detective Morrell frowned. “And you are, ma’am?”

  “I’m her sister Jayla. Jocelyn has been through a very traumatic experience. Don’t you think this should wait?”

  Lieutenant Torres spoke again. “We understand the delicate situation, but given what happened, we would like to collect as many facts as possible to help with the investigation. It’s best while the details are still fresh in her mind.”

  Jayla narrowed her eyes. The logic made sense, but she still didn’t like the idea of these two badgering her sister.

  “It’s fine,” Jocelyn said, sitting up for the first time.

  Jayla grimaced when Jocelyn crossed her arms over her flattening belly.

  The officers didn’t wait for any invitation. Just took out their notepads and sat on the stiff hospital converter couch underneath the window.

  “First off, Ms. Morgan, on behalf of the entire precinct,” said Lieutenant Torres, “we would like to apologize for your loss. Our condolences go out to you and your family during this trying time.”

  Jayla rolled her eyes. The speech had sounded completely dispassionate and rehearsed.

  “Now,” he continued, “please, in your own words, give us the details of what happened last Friday night.”

  “I was doing laundry,” Jocelyn began. She didn’t bother looking at the cops. Merely stared ahead at the blank wall across from her, as if she were in some sort of daze. “I heard someone come upstairs. Not sure how they got in.”

  “Is there an alarm in the house?” Detective Morrell asked.

  Jayla spoke up first. “Yes, there is. The place actually belongs to me.”

  “Please give us your entire name for the record,” Detective Morrell stated.

  “Jayla Morgan.”

  “And your relationship to the victim?”

  Jayla rolled her eyes once more and let out a frustrated sigh. “I told you before, I’m her sister.”

  “And where were you, Ms. Morgan, at the time of the incident in question?” Lieutenant Torres eyed her as he posed the question.

  “I was out of town,” Jayla answered. “The Bahamas,” she added when he made a move to open his mouth once more.

  “What happened next, Ms. Morgan?” the lieutenant asked, his gaze on Jocelyn.

  “Like I said, I heard someone coming up the stairs,” Jocelyn continued. “I panicked, because I didn’t think I had left the front door unlocked. I couldn’t remember if I had turned on the alarm, but either way, I knew I should’ve been at home alone, so I immediately freaked out. So I hid in the hall closet. I heard the person walk by, headed for Jaye’s bedroom. When the intruder did, I ran out of the closet and tripped going down the stairs. Then I blacked out.”

  “So you didn’t see the perpetrator?” Detective Morrell said.

  “No.”

  “Okay. Do either of you ladies know someone who would try to harm you?”

  Jocelyn didn’t speak, so Jayla volunteered to answer the question. “No,” she said.

  “No enemies?” Detective Morrell asked, pressing. “No disgruntled coworkers, no neighbors, no one you can think of that could possibly have done this?”

  Jayla’s thoughts fell to Tracy, and she rolled her eyes. No, she planned on handling that personally when she saw her next time. “Nope,” she said.

  Lieutenant Torres produced a card and handed it to Jayla. “Please call us if you two think of something else.”

  The officers left, and Jayla sucked in a grateful breath as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. Things were already bad enough without the police getting involved.

  Jayla grimaced at the thought. More than just bad. She had managed to sneak into the house in the wee hours of the morning, before the police had barricaded it with crime-scene tape and a forensics team had arrived. With the amount of blood at the scene, it was a wonder her sister was still alive. Lord knows how long she had been lying there before Jackie showed up. Hell, the large bloodstain on her carpet didn’t even begin to tell the story of the horror that had occurred.

  “You can see yourself out too,” Jocelyn prompted when Jayla continued to sit in silence on the edge of her bed.

  Jayla sighed. “Listen, Jocelyn, I’m sorry how all of this went down,” she said. “But damn, I feel bad enough as it is. Can you get rid of the attitude?” She looked at her sister and was nearly shocked when she saw the raging resentment burning in her eyes. If looks could kill.

  Jayla stood and headed to the door, the burden of the guilt like a huge lump in the middle of her throat. She couldn’t swallow it, couldn’t throw it up. It just sat there. She left the room without another word.

  As Jayla headed back to the waiting room, she caught Jasmine walking toward her, her fists balled, like she was ready to throw some punches. Jayla glanced around, unsure whom she was coming for.

  “You’re such a fucking bitch!” Jasmine hissed and shoved Jayla so hard, she collided with the nearby water fountain.

  The pain cut like a dagger in her back and had Jayla’s brea
th catching.

  “I heard about your pregnancy,” Jasmine snapped. “You force me to get an abortion, and now you’re pregnant?”

  Jayla shook her head. “It’s not true . . .”

  “I fucking hate you!” Jasmine all but screamed. “If I could cut that shit out of your stomach myself, I would! Trust me.” She stepped closer and emphasized every word when she said, “You will regret crossing me.”

  The comment shocked Jayla, but even more shocking was the fact that Jasmine then spit at her. The spit hit Jayla’s cheek and slid down the side of her face.

  Jasmine turned and stalked off, her arms now folded over her own flat stomach. Jayla’s child.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jayla parked outside the bank and waited. It seemed like she’d been crying for days, and this had left her eyes a bloodshot, puffy mess. They were now shielded by thick sunglasses, despite the overcast sky. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned to looked at the gray Impala parked across the street. Had that been Jasmine? Jayla narrowed her eyes, observed the Impala’s empty seats through the windshield. She hadn’t seen her since the hospital encounter, but she easily remembered how the chick had been on some other kind of lunacy. Jayla glanced back at the bank, kept her eyes steady on the glass doors.

  When she saw Heather emerge from the building, Jayla rolled down her window. “Over here,” she called, motioning for the woman to come over to the car.

  Heather was at her side in an instant, clutching an envelope. “Denise, I—”

  “Miss me with that bullshit, Heather,” Jayla interrupted, snatching the envelope from her fingers. “You were supposed to mail this before. You lucky I don’t stomp your stupid ass right here in this parking lot.”

  Heather looked frazzled. “I know. I just wanted to see you face-to-face to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “You can lick my ass with that sorry,” Jayla snapped. “You don’t know what the fuck I went through that night. All for you. For your crummy ass! And for what? To walk right into a fucking setup!”

  Heather normally pale face was now pink from emotion. “Please listen to me. I’m sorry. I had no idea. This is all my fault for putting you through this. But please help me get my Reggie back,” Heather said, almost pleading, as tears spilled down her cheeks. She sniffed, but snot kept leaking from her nose. “Oh, God, I love him so much! Don’t you see that’s why I came to you? I’ll kill myself without him!”

  Jayla narrowed her eyes behind the sunglasses. “Use a razor, bitch,” she snapped. “And don’t get blood on the carpet. It stains.” Jayla revved her engine, and fear had Heather jumping back as she sped off.

  Jayla glanced in her rearview mirror and watched Heather crumple to her knees in the street.

  When she got home, Jayla stripped out of her clothes, tossed her money on the coffee table, and sank onto the leather couch. This “home” felt awkward. She had moved in to the second “work” studio apartment she owned across town. It had seemed like the best idea, but the place didn’t feel the same as her real home. In the past, she had brought client after client through here, had sucked and sexed in every inch of the nine hundred square feet, had even sprinkled the space with a few of her things to give the impression of an actual lived-in place. It had been a week since she’d moved in, and she had even managed to unpack every single box, but she still found herself lying awake at night.

  Jayla snatched her cell phone from the coffee table and punched in her sister Jackie’s number. Jackie picked up on the second ring.

  “How is she?” Jayla asked.

  “Not good,” Jackie admitted and released a deep sigh, as if to prove her point. “She’s not eating, not sleeping. All she does is sit up in that spare bedroom and cry. I’m worried.”

  “Maybe she needs to see somebody.”

  “Jaye, you know she is not going to go for that.”

  Jayla sighed. It was her fault. Damn, she couldn’t swallow the guilt. Whoever it was that had attacked Jocelyn, they were clearly after her. Her sister had just so happened to get caught in the crossfire.

  “How’s Jasmine?” she asked tentatively.

  Jackie sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, either, Jaye,” she murmured. “It’s like the world has turned on its damn axis. She doesn’t go out anymore, but she does the same thing as Joce. Sitting up in her room, listening to music. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, either, but they’re both scaring the hell out of me, honestly.”

  Jayla squeezed her eyes shut. She had figured as much.

  “Do you think I should tell her? About . . . the adoption?” Jackie asked.

  “No,” Jayla answered quickly. “She’s going through her own thing right now. Let’s all talk to her when we feel she’s ready.”

  When Jackie remained quiet, Jayla went on, before she broke down right there on the phone. All she could manage to say before she ended the call was, “Tell them both I called. And I love them.” The words were completely genuine, but they did nothing to soothe the pain. Not wanting to think, not wanting to feel anything, she immediately dialed another number. She needed a distraction.

  When Derrick didn’t answer, she groaned, willing herself not to be frustrated. She tried again, left an absent message for him to call her; then she called Tara.

  “How are you?” Tara asked as soon as she picked up.

  “I’m okay. What are you doing?”

  “Probably about to go out to dinner with Kevin. Why?”

  Jayla swallowed her disappointment. “Oh, okay.”

  “You should come, Jaye,” Tara suggested. “You need to get out of the house.”

  “No, I’m not trying to be a third wheel. Y’all go ahead and have fun.”

  “Well, call Derrick.”

  “I think he’s working late,” Jayla said, trying to keep the pout off her face.

  “Fine. I’m dumping Kevin so I can go out to dinner with you instead.”

  “No!”

  “Jayla.” Tara’s voice was laced with impatience. “I’m on my way there to pick you up. I don’t give a damn what you say. You need to be with your best friend now. So get dressed.”

  The click echoed in her ear, and Jayla pulled the phone away from her ear, frowning. Tara was right. She did need to be with someone right now. The mere thought of spending another night in this lonely place had her feeling fearful. She needed to get out. If only for a few hours.

  * * *

  She was surprised to see Kevin had decided to come along. But there he was, neatly folded in the back seat of Tara’s silver Nissan.

  “Hey, Jaye,” he greeted. “I hope you don’t mind if I tag along.”

  “Um, no, not at all,” she said. She glanced at Tara, who shrugged. Apparently, the idea of his company didn’t seem as awkward to her.

  The ride to the restaurant consisted of Tara holding a conversation with Kevin, and Jayla wishing she had made up some bullshit excuse to stay home. Her stomach hurt. Her head hurt. Everything hurt.

  Even when they got to the table, Jayla remained quiet, babysitting a glass of water as Tara chatted about work.

  “So . . .” Tara turned to her and had Jayla lifting her eyes. “We never got a chance to talk about the Bahamas.”

  Jayla’s lips curved at the memory. Too bad she hadn’t even had time to marinate on their little vacation.

  “It was good,” she answered. “Wish it could’ve been longer, but it was fun.”

  “That’s it?” Tara seemed disappointed by the skimpy details. “It was good? It was fun?”

  Jayla’s eyes shifted to Kevin, who seemed to be gloating about something. What the hell was wrong with this man? “I really don’t feel like talking about it,” she admitted.

  Jayla couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause, but she felt lost. How her life had managed to wither and crumble through her fingers, she couldn’t be sure. But between the craziness with her sister Jocelyn, the psycho bitch Tracy, Derrick and whatever the hell was going on with
him, she felt like a fucking zombie. Or maybe she was on autopilot, and she was hovering overhead, like some ghost watching the mess of her life play out like a terrible movie. Not to mention her business. “Hell, what business?” was more like it. She couldn’t very well keep it going. Not after what had happened to her baby sister. And her nephew. Oh God, her poor nephew. Just thinking of the events had tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

  “I understand.” Tara gave Jayla a comforting smile and a pat on her hand before she rose. “Let me go to the restroom. Be right back.”

  Jayla watched her friend sashay through the restaurant’s booths before she disappeared around a corner. With a sigh, Jayla slid her eyes to Kevin, who was giving her that disgustingly eerie smile, like he was sitting on a million-dollar lottery ticket but didn’t wish to share the news.

  “Kevin, what is supposed to be your problem?” she asked, trying to keep from sounding too snappish.

  “What are you talking about?”

  The fact that he was feigning innocence had Jayla rolling her eyes. “You really want to act like that?”

  Kevin took his time responding, taking a leisurely sip from his Coke and tossing a casual glance over his shoulder. “You were at K. Sutra a while back,” he said, and Jayla sucked in a breath.

  Shit, shit, shit. How could she forget?

  Kevin continued. “Saw your little performance with the twins. I didn’t know you had a birthmark on your thigh.” He stopped and stared at her.

  Jayla waited, her heart rate quickening as he dragged out each lazy minute, apparently relishing his knowledge.

  “Did you have fun in the VIP room?” he finally went on, and pierced by the memory of that painful experience, Jayla shut her eyes. “Oh, no need to be ashamed. I saw the whole thing. You up there acting like a slut. I can’t believe Tara is friends with someone like you.”

  “Okay, wait a damn minute!” Jayla did snap at him this time. His rude comment had felt like a dagger. “You don’t know anything about my friendship with Tara. I’ve known that woman for years. I was in her life well before you came into the picture. So don’t act like you know me, because you damn sure don’t.”