by La Jill Hunt
“How do you know he ain’t with her? He said that was his girlfriend, and she was all over him. The way she was slobbering all over him was ridiculous,” Tricia scoffed.
“Because I know he’s not with her, and Peyton, she’s not like that.”
“You don’t know that, Titus. You and Tank may be close, but you said yourself you ain’t even know he had a girlfriend until last night. So he don’t tell you everything. They seemed pretty close until all hell broke loose,” Tricia told him. “Wasn’t her father one of the ones you were fighting with? Was that why y’all were fighting?”
“What? I told you I wasn’t fighting anyone. I was trying to help.”
“That’s another thing, Titus. Why the hell were you more concerned with helping someone else than making sure your wife was safe during all of that commotion?” Tricia asked. “You force me to go to the damn game, and then what? You forgot I was there with you?”
“I’m not even going to continue this conversation with you right now, Tricia. I’m going to get dressed then go find my son.” Titus shook his head as he walked past her and headed up the stairs.
“Our son,” Tricia tossed over her shoulder. “He’s probably with that skank.”
“She’s not a skank,” Titus yelled back down the steps. “I’ll take care of it.”
On the floor near the sofa was a folded piece of paper that Titus must’ve dropped. She picked it up and read what turned out to be the incident report from the coliseum, listing the names and information of all parties involved. The vision of her son and the girl kissing flashed in her head. If her son was anywhere, it was with that fast-ass girl. Any other time, Titus would be all involved and have so much to say, but this didn’t seem to even matter to him. Typical man.
Tricia may not have had a lot to say when it came to her son and basketball, or school, or pretty much anything else, but she wasn’t going to just sit back and allow some skank to trap Tank and ruin his future and their lives with a baby. Bump that. She’s probably got him laid up somewhere, throwing it on him right now while Titus is upstairs acting like it’s no big deal. He might not recognize how trifling these high school heffas are, but I do.
“It looks like Peyton’s dad. Mr. Blackwell.” Tank’s voice echoed in her head as she stared at the paper in her hand. The father is fighting at a high school basketball game, and the daughter is acting like a thot in heat. These folks are probably ghetto project negroes looking for a come-up, and it damn sure ain’t gonna be my son. Tricia grabbed her purse, typing the address into her phone as she rushed out the door.
Chapter 1
Sylvia
Sylvia Blackwell was in the middle of arguing with her husband, Garry, when the doorbell interrupted their heated conversation. It wasn’t even nine o’clock on a Sunday morning, and they weren’t expecting anyone, especially the woman who was standing on their doorstep when she opened the front door of their home.
“Um, come in,” Sylvia said, moving to the side so her unexpected guest could enter. She recognized Tricia King from a photo that her sister, Janelle, found on social media while cyberstalking her ex-boyfriend Titus, who was Tricia’s husband. They’d never met, nor spoken to one another, and now she was at her house. Sylvia’s heart raced, knowing that Tricia was probably looking for Janelle, especially after the incident last night after the basketball game. As soon as Titus laid eyes on Janelle and saw she was in danger during the fight that was erupting, he immediately ran to her rescue like some kind of action-movie star saving his love interest. If Tricia had seen her husband’s actions, that might be the reason for her pop-up.
“I’m looking for the Blackwell residence. I’m sorry. This has to be the wrong house.” Tricia looked around as if she was confused. “I was looking for Garry and Peyton Blackwell.”
Although Tricia looking for Garry and Peyton was a bit odd, Sylvia was a bit relieved she wasn’t there for her sister.
“I’m Garry Blackwell.” Garry stepped forward and said, “Peyton is our daughter. What’s going on?”
Tricia looked him up and down, still seeming a bit confused, and said, “You were in an altercation last night after my son’s basketball game?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.
“Yeah, I was.” Garry nodded. “It was an unfortunate event, and I owe your son and his team an apology for that, but I went to the game looking for my daughter and—”
“Is he here?” Tricia asked.
“Excuse me?” Garry asked.
“My son. Is he here with your daughter?” Tricia clarified.
Sylvia stepped closer to her husband, offended by Tricia’s question. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he didn’t come home last night, and he’s not answering his phone. And he mentioned that they’ve been seeing one another,” Tricia stated. “I guess your daughter is supposed to be his girlfriend.”
“What do you mean seeing one another? Girlfriend? Since when?” Garry’s question was directed to Sylvia, who was just as surprised by this revelation as he was. She knew Peyton had to have a reason to sneak to the game, but she had no idea it had anything to do with Titus’s son.
“I don’t know anything about this.” Sylvia’s eyebrow raised. “But to answer your question, your son isn’t here.”
“And my daughter isn’t anyone’s girlfriend,” Garry added.
“Well, can you ask your daughter if she knows where he is?” Tricia asked.
“Where who is?” Aunt Connie suddenly emerged from the kitchen. Her attention went to Tricia. “Good morning.”
“Hello.” Tricia’s tone was stoic.
“Aunt Connie, this is Tricia King.” Sylvia told her, “She’s uh . . .”
Sylvia didn’t know how to introduce her. The day had barely begun, and it was getting more and more awkward by the minute. The turmoil from the night before was overflowing, and before she could wrap her mind around one thing, another one popped up. First, Jordan went missing, and they tracked her down five hours away at a basketball game. Then when they arrived, not only did they find her there but also Peyton, who’d snuck off with Janelle. Then Garry got into an altercation with Sherrod, the guy Janelle had been dating, who also turned out to be the friend of her newly discovered stepdaughter’s deceased mother, Randi. Now Tricia was standing in her foyer, looking for her son, who apparently had been dating their daughter without their knowledge. It was too much, too early.
“I’m Tarik’s mother.” Tricia said, “I came to see if he was here.”
“It seems that Tarik didn’t come home last night, and he and Peyton are friends,” Sylvia explained. “But I’ve told her that he’s not here.”
“Does Peyton know where he is?” Aunt Connie asked.
“That’s what I was asking.” Tricia sighed, then added, “And based on the way she was all over my son last night, I think she’s more than a friend.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but I can promise you my daughter wasn’t all over anybody,” Garry snapped. Sylvia placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.
“Listen, why don’t you just run upstairs and ask Peyton if she knows where Frank is,” Aunt Connie suggested.
“Tank,” Sylvia, Garry, and Tricia all said simultaneously.
“I’ll go talk to her,” Sylvia volunteered, but at that moment, both Peyton and Jordan came walking down the steps. Sylvia was taken aback since Jordan’s room was downstairs and she rarely even ventured to the second floor of their home.
“What’s going on?” Jordan asked.
“Mrs. King?” Peyton’s eyes widened when she saw Tricia standing beside Aunt Connie.
“Peyton, when’s the last time you talked to Tank?” Garry asked her.
“Um, I talked to him last night after the game. He was pretty upset about what happened,” Peyton said. “They didn’t even get to cut the net off the rim like they were supposed to because of—”
“Sweetie.” Sylvia shook her head slightly at her dau
ghter, hinting for her to stop talking. “Tank didn’t go home last night. His mother is worried.”
“He’s probably with somebody from the team partying. We did win the state championship last night, remember?” Jordan shrugged and folded her arms. “Not that they got the chance to celebrate and enjoy the moment like they should have. Someone stopped that from happening.”
“Not now, Jordan,” Garry warned.
“I’m just saying,” Jordan said. “You kinda ruined his moment.”
“Wait, you thought Tarik was here at my house?” Peyton frowned.
“Who is Tarik?” Aunt Connie leaned and whispered to Jordan.
“That’s his real name,” Jordan told her.
“Oh, okay, I see. Peyton baby, why don’t you run upstairs and get your phone and see if you can call Frank,” Aunt Connie said.
“Tank,” they all said again.
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” Peyton said and hustled up the stairs.
“I can’t believe him,” Tricia mumbled as she exhaled loudly. “If he’s not here, where the hell is he?”
Sylvia realized that there was a hint of concern under her somewhat-cold exterior and thought about how she felt herself less than twenty-four hours before when she was facing the same situation. Unlike Tricia, though, she wouldn’t consider showing up on a stranger’s doorstep, especially with an attitude dressed in jeans and cheap boots, looking like she was ready to fight.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Aunt Connie said. “Both Peyton and Jordan here snuck off yesterday, and we found them. And Peyton went off for a couple of hours the other week and we couldn’t find her, and she showed up at home.”
Sylvia gave Aunt Connie the same warning Garry gave Jordan moments before. “Not now, Aunt Connie.”
“He probably just needs to cool off, that’s all.” Jordan shrugged. “I do that all the time. I take a time-out.”
“Has he ever gone missing before?” Sylvia asked.
“No, never.” Tricia shook her head. “My son isn’t a kid who runs away, and he doesn’t need a time-out.”
Jordan went to react, but Aunt Connie placed her hand on her shoulder, whispering loud enough to be heard, “Don’t justify that comment with a response, baby. She’s just worried about her son and ain’t thinking before she’s speaking.”
The tension was noticeably uncomfortable, and something needed to be done. Sylvia was trying to remain cordial, especially since Tarik was missing, but she was already dealing with the stress of her own family drama, and her patience was thin. Her empathy was limited, and Tricia’s attitude wasn’t making it easier. She wanted this woman to leave but didn’t want to be rude and make an already-awkward situation worse.
“I’ll be right back,” Sylvia said. She was up the stairs and about to enter her bedroom when she heard Garry behind her.
“Syl, where are you going?” he hissed. “You can’t leave that woman downstairs.”
“I said I’d be right back,” she whispered as she kept walking. “I have a phone call to make.”
“Who the hell are you calling?” He followed her into their bedroom.
Sylvia picked up her cell phone and pressed her sister’s name.
“What?” Janelle answered after the third ring.
“Nelle, wake up. We have a situation,” Sylvia told her.
“You’re calling Janelle? That’s the last person you need to be calling right now considering who’s downstairs,” Garry said.
“Shut up, Garry. You’re the last person who needs to be talking to me right now considering everything,” she snapped at him. He sulked but didn’t say anything else.
“What the hell is going on? What time is it?” Janelle groaned.
“Nelle, I need you to call Titus right now,” Sylvia told her. “Call him on three-way. I need to talk to him.”
“I’m not calling him. Why do you want him?” Janelle asked.
“Because his wife is downstairs crying in my living room,” Sylvia said, trying not to yell.
“Shit. What?” Janelle squealed. “What the hell for? Why is she there? Is she looking for me?”
“No, she’s not looking for you. She’s looking for her son. Now call him.”
“What? Tank is at your house?”
“Janelle.” It was taking everything for Sylvia not to snap, and she was two seconds from losing it. “I don’t have time to play damn twenty-one questions. Get Titus’s ass on the phone now.”
“Fine, hold on,” Janelle said, and then the phone went quiet.
“Go downstairs and check and see what’s going on,” Sylvia told Garry.
“I’m sure Aunt Connie has it all under control,” he said. “They don’t need me down there.”
Although her husband was probably right, she told him, “Well, I don’t need you up here either.”
“Hello?” Titus’s voice came on the line. “Syl, what’s going on? Tricia’s at your house?
“Yes, she is. She came over here looking for your son,” Sylvia told him.
“Oh my God. I told her to relax and I would handle it.” Titus sighed.
“Wait, do you know where he is?” Sylvia asked, wondering why he seemed so calm while Tricia was so agitated by their son’s disappearance.
“No, not really,” Titus said.
“What the hell does that mean? ‘No, not really.’ Have you talked to him?” Sylvia was now talking through clenched teeth, angered by Titus’s lack of concern. His wife was out trying to locate their son, and he was acting as if it were no big deal.
“No, I haven’t talked to him, but I don’t think he’s run away anywhere. His clothes are still in his room, and he knows he has a news interview at three o’clock this afternoon. Besides, the entire school will be celebrating the team at school tomorrow, and he ain’t missing that. He’s probably with a couple of his teammates,” Titus told her. “I’m heading out now to go find him.”
“What made her go to my sister’s house to look for him?” Janelle spoke up. She’d been so quiet that Sylvia forgot she was on the phone.
“She found out Peyton and Tank are dating,” Titus told her. “Look, I’m sorry about her showing up like that. I know you probably thought—”
“Call your wife, and get her the hell out of my damn house, Titus,” Sylvia snapped before hanging up.
“What did he say?” Garry asked. “You should’ve let me talk to—”
“Don’t.” She turned and held her palm up toward him as she walked past. “We still have unfinished business from this morning. This situation happening right now doesn’t change anything. I still want you to leave.”
Chapter 2
Sylvia
By the time Sylvia returned to the foyer, thankfully, Titus had already phoned his wife, and she was ready to leave, barely saying, “Thank you,” as she walked out the door. Within seconds of the door closing behind her, Peyton and Jordan quickly disappeared, and Aunt Connie was back in the kitchen. Sylvia headed back up the steps, and when she got to the top, she was at an impasse and had a decision to make. She could either go left, where the hallway led to her bedroom, where she knew Garry was probably waiting. Or she could go right into Peyton’s bedroom. She looked from one side to the other before making her decision.
“Peyton?” Sylvia knocked and opened the door at the same time.
“Yes?” Peyton answered.
Sylvia walked in. Peyton was sitting Indian style in the middle of her bed, scrolling on her phone. “Did you reach Tarik?”
“No, he’s still not responding to my calls or texts.” Peyton sounded frustrated. “Or anyone else’s. None of his friends knows where he is.”
“I’m sure he’s just somewhere cooling off,” Sylvia said, sitting on the side of the bed.
“I feel really bad. He’s embarrassed, and he didn’t even do anything wrong. This wasn’t even his fault,” Peyton whined.
“That’s true. He has no reason to be embarrassed,” Sylvia agreed.
“I do
n’t even understand what happened. Why was Dad fighting that guy?” Peyton’s thick eyebrows furrowed as she stared at Sylvia, who really didn’t have an answer.
“I’m still trying to figure that out myself, baby, and that’s a valid question, but I’m more concerned about why you felt the need to sneak off to the basketball game instead of asking for permission.” Sylvia’s head tilted to the side, her eyes blinking slowly as she waited for Peyton to speak.
Peyton’s eyes dropped to her colorful bedspread, and her voice was barely above a whisper. “Because I knew you’d say no.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. The answer is always no, even though I’m seventeen and an honors student who’s leaving for college within a few months. I knew if I said I wanted to go watch Tarik—who’s also a great guy and an honors student—play in the championship game, it would still be no. So I asked Aunt Nelle to take me,” Peyton explained. “This game was the moment of Tank’s life, and I wanted to be there for him.”
“You could’ve come to me, Peyton,” Sylvia told her. “You can come to me about anything.”
“No, I couldn’t have.”
Peyton saying she felt as if she couldn’t talk to her was a surprise. Sylvia believed that she and her daughter had a great relationship. Over the years, she’d made sure to keep an open dialogue about everything: school, friends, body changes, boys, and even sex.
“Peyton, we talk about everything,” Sylvia pointed out.
