by Nia Arthurs
“Brenda, stop!”
Everyone looked to Adam in surprise.
“M-Mr. Lockwood?”
Adam tilted his chin and leveled his gaze at a point beyond Chelsea’s head. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding. These women are my friends and they kindly invited us to share a meal, not to be insulted.”
Shaken by his tone and the firmness of his expression, and also feeling a little sorry for Brenda who had deflated beneath her boss’s chastisement, Jada tried to catch Adam’s attention, but he was having none of it.
“I hope neither of you are offended,” Adam said. “This is my fault for not clarifying with Brenda earlier.”
They rose along with him and Chelsea tried to restore the tattered thread of their meal. “It’s okay. You don’t have to leave.”
“The food was delicious, girls. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Brenda said quietly. Her gaze drawn to the floor, she walked out behind Adam. Jada remained at the table while Chelsea followed them to the door and saw them off.
Her cousin returned soon after and blew out a breath. “Well… that was a disaster. What do you think made Adam react like that?”
“I don’t know.”
Chelsea reclaimed her seat around the table. “I really don’t think Brenda’s that bad.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m serious. Did you see the way she behaved when Adam told her to cut it out? She was heartbroken. The way they interact with each other reminds me of a mother.”
“I guess—”
“Imagine thinking your son was going out with a prostitute? How would you react?”
Jada smirked. “When did you get so sensitive?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve gone out with older men…”
“Chelsea!”
“What? You knew that before you moved here. People judge me behind my back and when I’m out of earshot, but I really appreciate the ones who tell me to my face. I know exactly where I stand with them so I don’t waste any time thinking we can be friends.”
“You’re telling me I should give up on being friends with Adam’s secretary?”
“I think you should give up on Adam.”
Jada barked out a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“The way you shot out of the restaurant to get to Adam yesterday wasn’t normal. You care about him. Maybe not in a romantic way, but it won’t take much to get there. That world is so far removed from ours, J. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Relax. I’m in no danger of getting hurt. Who was the one that suggested we bother Adam and invite him to dinner anyway?”
“True,” Chelsea said. “Let’s not follow any more of my ideas.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
***
Adam wound the window down, allowing the sweet Caribbean air to ruffle his short hair and bring clarity to his mind. He’d never in his life raised his voice to a woman and doing it to Brenda made him doubly uncomfortable.
But he didn’t regret it.
His secretary’s unrestrained antagonism for Jada had upset him and though he wished his tone hadn’t come out quite as sharp, he was glad that he’d spoken up for her.
Jada had been more than ready to defend herself, but he felt it was only right he personally address the issue. Brenda didn’t know the full story. That part was on him.
“So, you’re saying she’s not an escort?” Brenda whispered. “Not even a little bit?”
The question made him chuckle, reminiscent of his teasing inquiry the first time he’d met Jada.
“No, not even a little.”
“But your father hired her—”
“And Jada accepted with the intention of simply attending the party and going home with no other benefits extended.”
“She couldn’t possibly be that naïve.”
“Whether she was naïve or not, I can attest that she meant what she said.”
“I said all those things…” Brenda touched a hand to her lips. “I honestly thought she was after your money. That’s why I behaved that way. It was never my intention to insult her. Oh, she must hate me.”
“On the contrary, she kept her temper far longer than I expected her to.”
Brenda looked up at him with an appraising gaze.
“What?” he asked.
“There is a note of admiration in your voice.”
“That’s because I do admire her.”
“Is that all?”
“Excuse me?”
Brenda inhaled deeply. “The rent I paid for your ‘friend’ this morning… was it hers?”
Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it getting hot in here?”
“Mr. Lockwood…”
“Brenda,” he returned in the very same tone.
“I’ve watched over you for the past five years. I’ve been there through your startup to your success. I spend more time with you than my family…”
“Which I appreciate.”
She smiled softly. “I’m sure you do, but Mr. Lockwood, I’ve never seen a girl capture your interest like she has. I just wanted to make sure she was good enough for you.”
“It’s kind of you to say that, Brenda, but I’m fine and so is Jada. Our paths won’t cross often and there’s a zero percent chance anything will develop between us. I do admire her spirit and confidence. That’s it. It goes no further.”
“Alright,” she said, still sounding unconvinced. “I’ll believe you.”
Adam dropped his secretary off and then pointed the car to his home. His mind was far away and he slowed down in front of the two-story dwelling what felt like minutes later. Wearily, Adam trudged up the stairs and entered the living room.
To his surprise, he heard the tones of a football game blaring from the television. Focusing on his surroundings, Adam observed the messy state of his plush sofas and the crumbs on his throw rug.
Anger rather than fear of the cocky burglar filled him and he grabbed the baseball bat hiding in the shoe closet near the front door. Carefully advancing to the kitchen, Adam raised the bat when he saw the back of a man’s head.
At that moment, the intruder turned and Adam flung the bat forward, realizing at the last second that the man in the kitchen was his brother. The bat froze a millimeter away from Winston’s teeth.
Instead of cowering or apologizing for barging in without permission, Winston sent him a cheeky grin. “Was it satisfying? You can’t believe the number of times I’ve wanted to do that to you. It would make everything less complicated, wouldn’t it?”
The bat clattered to the floor and Adam stepped back, his heart still racing from adrenaline.
“How did you get in?”
“The pass code is your mother’s birthday. You really shouldn’t be so sentimental.”
“Get out!”
“I can’t. The game’s coming back from commercial and I can’t miss it.”
“Winston—”
His brother sighed and set what Adam now realized was a giant bowl of popcorn on the black island counter. Adam recognized the print of Winston’s cherry robe.
“Are you wearing my robe?”
“What? This old thing?”
Adam fisted his hands. “I’ll give you five minutes to gather your stuff and hit the road.”
“Is that any way to treat your half-brother? Even if we are fighting for Dad’s company, your personality won’t allow you to kick me out on the street, will it?”
“I’m sure Dad’s given you enough money to rent a room at the finest hotel.”
“He has, but I don’t want to spend it that way.”
“Why not?”
Winston sighed. “There you go. Asking the wrong questions.”
“Why are you here?”
“That’s better,” Winston said. “The girl.”
“What girl?”
“The girl from earlier. The one with fire. I want to get to know her.”
At his words, Adam’s heart thudded against his chest. Something like anger sparked a light in a place he had always thought inflammable.
“Leave her alone. I don’t want her getting tangled up with the likes of you.”
“Why?” Winston grinned and leaned closer. “You like her?”
“She’s a friend.”
“What kind of friend?”
Adam pointed toward the door. “Get out of my house!”
“Unfortunately, I’ve already ordered fried chicken,” Winston said, walking toward the living room and getting comfortable on the sofa. “I’ve read all the reviews online. Apparently, the fried chicken in this country is to die for. You wouldn’t want me to miss out on that?” He wiggled a finger. “I’ll share.”
The impulse to grab Winston by the collar and physically toss him nearly overwhelmed Adam, but he beat it back. Despite their problems, they were brothers. He’d use this visit as an opportunity to make peace.
He just hoped Winston stayed far away from Jada. All bets were off if he so much as looked at her.
Chapter Twelve
Jada gathered her books and headed out of the large, boxy building that hosted the Humanities block. A crowd of students walked around and beside her, but she paid little heed, occupied as she was with her thoughts.
“Hey, Beautiful! Wait up!”
Jada felt a tug on her shoulder and spun to find Trevor Lane, a colleague from a course she had taken the semester before, directly behind her.
“Trevor, how many times have I told you to stop calling me ‘beautiful’?”
“It’s what you are,” he said, flashing an enthusiastic grin. Trevor’s tan skin and soft, wavy hair declared his Hispanic heritage. His eyes were dark and whenever they were locked on her, they sparkled.
“It makes me uncomfortable,” she said. “My name is Jada.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.” He walked beside her as she headed for the bus stop. “How was journalism?”
“It was good. We have to write an actual story and if it’s chosen, it could be featured in the newspaper.”
Jada’s heart quickened at the thought of seeing her name in print. Though her end goal was to become a television reporter like Tina Lang, she welcomed an opportunity to write for an established paper.
“What are you thinking of writing?”
She scrunched her nose. “Something hard-hitting… like what Tina Lang would report on.”
Trevor pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. “Well, whenever you’re investigating, call me so I can tag along. Tina Lang covers some dangerous stories. Remember that one where she went undercover to bust that human trafficking ring?” Trevor shivered. “You can’t do that.”
Unsure if she should be offended that Trevor said she ‘couldn’t’ or if she should be touched by his concern, she chose to ignore the comment.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can manage.” By this time, Jada was already heading toward the bus with flashing lights. Students streamed in and out of the vehicle like a school of fish during mating season.
“You don’t want a ride?” Trevor yelled, stopping at the gate. “I brought my bike.”
“I’m good.” Jada disappeared into the bus before Trevor could offer to sit beside her and accompany her home. His earnestness had been amusing last year, but now it was tiring. She waved to him as the bus moved off and settled into her seat.
As it usually did when she had a moment to herself, her thoughts moved to Adam. She wondered what he was doing. If he and his secretary had made up. If he ever thought of her.
Jada wasn’t sure why Adam seemed to occupy her mind like this. She didn’t think it was romantic. The rapid-fire pulse, the quickened breath, the heightened sense of awareness—she felt none of that when she was around him.
Instead, she felt a fierce protectiveness and a calling to make sure that no one abused his kind personality.
Thanks to Adam, Chelsea was safe at home and had promised to find more gainful employment than mutually beneficial ‘companionship’. Thanks to Adam, she could save three months worth of rent payments and start chipping away at Papi’s hospital debt. Thanks to Adam, she could move around in Papi’s car.
The money that he casually flung her way probably meant nothing to him and quite frankly, Jada was a little embarrassed that it meant so much to her. With a flick of his fingers, Adam had unburdened her in the best way.
It wouldn’t be humane if she just moved on and forgot about him. There was nothing wrong with thinking of him every now and again… or all the time, was there?
The bus stopped in her neighborhood and Jada walked off, eager to get home. The night sky was covered with clouds that obstructed the moonlight, making it hard to see. Jada looked up and cursed the street lamps that flickered.
Even though it was only eight o’clock, the boys that usually hung on the street corners were noticeably absent. She hastened her footsteps as she saw Chelsea’s apartment complex rising into view.
The air was filled with tension and though she didn’t know what was going on, her intuition screamed that it would be best to get off the streets.
As soon as her feet crested the landing of her floor, Jada ran down the hallway to Chelsea’s room and urgently opened the door. When she sailed through, she saw Chelsea holding a frying pan over her shoulder, ready to swing.
“Thank God, it’s you!”
“What are you doing?” Jada asked, her bag slipping to the floor. “What’s going on?”
Chelsea pressed a hand to her heart. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have a phone?”
“My phone?”
“I’ve been calling for hours!”
Jada pulled out her phone and sheepishly realized it was on ‘mute’. She glanced at Chelsea’s worry-filled eyes. “Why did you try to reach me?”
“I wanted you to take a taxi instead of walking here,” Chelsea said. “And tomorrow, we need to go straight to the mechanic shop and get your car.”
“Why?”
“Remember that gang leader that got shot awhile back?”
Jada nodded. Charlie Halls, a notorious gang leader, was shot down in front of an Asian grocery store a few years before.
“The guy they accused of murdering him was shot today.”
Jada pressed two fingers to her mouth. “That’s awful.”
“Now, everyone’s on edge. That’s why nobody’s brave enough to go out tonight. We don’t know what they’ll do.”
Chelsea hunkered down in the couch as if masked gunmen were present in their living room. Jada felt a flash of fear for their safety, but it wasn’t as if they lived in a prissy, north side neighborhood.
Violent crimes were a given, a natural occurrence, on this side of the bridge.
What fascinated her were the many angles the news could take with this story—that she could take with this story. After all, she lived right in the heart of it. Could see everything first hand.
“Why are your eyes gleaming?” Chelsea grabbed a pillow and covered the bottom part of her face. “You look kind of evil. Could you stop that?”
Jada leaned over. “I’m thinking of writing my story on this.”
“What story? You know what… I don’t even want to know. Don’t go anywhere near this one, Jada. It’s dangerous.”
“It’s my chance.”
“Everyone and their brother’s going to be writing about the violence,” Chelsea said, trying to dissuade her. “What makes you think you’ll be any different?”
The words pierced her and Jada visibly deflated. Chelsea had a point. Everyone would be drawn by the gloom and doom promise of a gang retaliation piece. If she thought of it so easily, surely someone else would.
Chelsea patted her leg. “Just stay inside and be safe. Leave the crazy journalistic adventures to Tina. Okay?”
Jada frowned, unwilling to give up so soon. This was an opportunity and one she would grab with both hands.
***
Ada
m listened to the news that night and felt his heart squeeze within his chest. Thanks to the violent murder of a known gang leader, the journalist prophesied that Jada’s neighborhood would be turned into a war zone.
Anger at the arrogance of that statement rose within him. Instead of announcing such dismal news as a confirmed fact, the media should be working with the defense force to prevent the grim forecast.
“Whoo!” He heard the call before he saw who made it. The front door opened and Winston burst through. His brother wore a long black coat over a white shirt and black pants. His manner was excessively cheerful and Adam wondered if he’d been drinking.
“Where were you? You left this morning without a word.”
“I didn’t know I had to report to you.”
“What were you doing?”
“What else?” Winston grinned. “Trying to find that mystery girl.”
Adam fisted his hands. He had no doubts that Winston kept mentioning Jada just to get him. Unfortunately, it was working. His temper flared and a reprimand danced on the tip of his tongue. Before he could let it fly, Winston spoke.
“I heard there was a huge commotion in the south side of the city. Everyone was talking about it.”
“Who is ‘everyone’?” Adam narrowed his eyes. “Do you have associates in Belize?”
“I have associates everywhere,” Winston said casually. “Anyway, I would hate to be living out there right now. I don’t think I’d be able to sleep a wink!” Winston came over to Adam and knocked him on the shoulder. “I’ll be turning in now, brother.”
Though Adam lived far from the turbulence of Jada’s neighborhood, he couldn’t “sleep a wink” himself. His worry for her nearly overwhelmed him and he marveled at the response. It had been four days since he’d seen her.
After returning to his hectic work schedule, he’d expected his life to go back to normal, expected the memory of his short time with her to fade. It hadn’t and Adam was stuck wondering why.
In the middle of the night, he sat up, unable to corral his thoughts. All he needed was one little confirmation that she was alright and then he’d move on with his life and never bother her again.
He picked up his phone from the nightstand and pressed Jada’s number. It would be impolite to call at this hour so he typed his greeting in the message box and sent it. As soon as it was done, Adam tossed his phone and lay flat, staring at the ceiling.
