The Appraisal

by Brielle Montgomery

  That brought Jayla comfort, and she let herself relax into the pillows.

  Patricia stifled tears, but her voice was clipped when she delivered the next sentence. “She shot you in the leg and tried to shoot you in the head, but she missed. Thank God. It just hit you on the outside.” Jayla felt Patricia’s gentle fingers on the side of her head, above her ear, where the bullet had grazed her. “No brain damage, though you may have headaches and feel yucky for a while. And the other bullet traveled through your leg, and you lost a lot of blood, but they patched you up good. I made sure of that.” Her watery smile spread. “When you didn’t call me, I called you. Imagine my surprise when the police answered your cell phone and told me to come right over. But I’m just glad you’re all right.” Patricia leaned down and planted a comforting kiss on Jayla’s forehead.

  “The hospital told me to make calls to your other family,” Patricia went on. “I didn’t know how you felt about that, so I said I would wait until you woke up to ask you. Do you want me to call anyone and tell them what happened?”

  Jayla sighed once more as everyone flashed through her mind one by one. Jackie, her older sister, who was struggling to come to terms with what she had done before. Tara, her once best friend, who had damn near beat her senseless, and rightfully so, but who probably wished her an agonizing death, anyway. And Derrick. Poor Derrick, whom she’d hurt beyond measure and whom she loved that much more.

  Sure she could tell them. They would probably come running too. Cards and flowers, sympathy and regret. It might even be genuine. But it would only be driven by guilt because she was hurt. Not because they were willing to forgive and forget. Jayla didn’t want to put them through that.

  It was all over for now. She would start fresh, and even though she hadn’t done right by them before, she would now. No need to compound the strain and reopen the wounds. Maybe one day, they would find it in their hearts to move on, with or without her.

  Jayla’s voice came out foreign sounding, raspy from soreness and strangled pain but strengthened with renewed confidence. “No. Don’t call.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jayla positioned the crutches in front of her, and the tips immediately sank into the dampened soil. She winced as she struggled to hobble on her one good leg, dragging the weak one as best she could. Damn. These things were more of a hindrance than actual assistance. She was better off in a wheelchair. She tightened her grip on the plastic bag she clutched against the crutch handle. At least no one else was in the cemetery to see her pathetic efforts.

  She eyed the headstones and sighed in relief when she saw her mother’s. JILLIAN MICHELLE MORGAN. LIFE IS NOT A DRESS REHEARSAL. Jayla’s lips curved at the quote. “Words to live by,” she murmured. She took her time as she shifted to kneel before the granite. She placed the crutches on either side of her and removed one of the fresh bouquets of lilies from the plastic bag. She tenderly placed the gorgeous blossoms against the headstone, the crisp white and purple petals an appreciative contrast to the rigid gray.

  “Sometimes, I wish you were still here,” Jayla said, resting her hand on the ground. “Other times, I’m glad you’re not. Not because I don’t want you to be, but because I know you would hate me for what I am, if that makes sense.” She sighed. “I’m ashamed of things I’ve done, Mama. Disgraceful things. Things that embarrass me to even think about, honestly. And I guess it hurts even more because I know you would look at me with disgust. Maybe even ask me why I can’t act more like Jackie.”

  Jayla lifted her head, eyed the rows and rows of markers in succession. “And you’re right,” she went on. “I was almost right out here with you, Mama. And that scared the shit out of me. I won’t detail it to you. You would probably roll over in your grave if you knew everything. But just know that I have changed. I hate that it took me as long as it did, and I hate that it took what it did for my wake-up call. But I’m still here. I have another opportunity, and I’m going to do it right.”

  The wind picked up, and some of Jayla’s hair got free of the neat ponytail at the nape of her neck. She pulled her blazer tighter.

  What about you, Jayla?

  Jayla smiled. She could almost hear the question, as if her mother had uttered the words out loud. “Well, for starters, I was engaged for a bit, believe it or not. I love him. So, so much. But I hurt him, Mama. Bad. I haven’t talked to him in months. You remember, Tara? Well, I haven’t talked to her in months, either. I know she is pregnant, and I’m hoping everything is okay with that. But honestly, Mama, she is probably better off without me. They both are. But that’s neither here nor there.”

  She paused. “I actually came today to tell you I am leaving. For good. I’ll probably visit from time to time, but I’m going to start living. Finally.” Jayla brushed her fingers over the engraved inscription, feeling the letters etched into the stone one by one. “Why, you ask? Because you said it yourself, Mama. Life is not a dress rehearsal, right?”

  Jayla looked over at Jocelyn’s headstone, situated right beside her mother’s. She pulled the other bouquet of lilies from the bag, leaned over, and placed it right underneath the angel wings etched in the fresh stone. She attempted to smile and looked up.

  “There is so much I want to tell you, Joce,” she murmured, watching a bird sail across the sky. “But let’s start with, I’m sorry.” A single tear dampened her cheek, and Jayla didn’t bother wiping it away. She opened her mouth to speak again and closed it. There were no words.

  Jayla touched her fingers to her lips and laid them on the earth once more. Then she picked up her crutches and, using them for support, climbed to her feet. Her movements were slow, but she would get the hang of it.

  “Doctor says I don’t have too much longer on these things,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ll be glad when I’m done, so I can get back to exercising. You know I’m feeling lost without my treadmill.” She paused, listened to the silence. “I love you both. I think that’s what I needed to say.”

  Jayla turned and headed back to the parking lot. She planned to leave town as soon as possible. But she had one more stop to make.

  * * *

  It was strange being back at his place. Jayla eased her truck up to the curb in front of Derrick’s town house and took a breath to steady herself. She wondered if he was home. She wondered if he was thinking of her. Jayla spread her fingers and eyed the ring one last time. The symbol of her love for and life with Derrick. The constant reminder of her quick taste of pure happiness. She rolled down her window and flipped down the little door on his mailbox. On a reluctant sigh, Jayla slid the ring from her finger and placed it inside the mailbox, then flipped the little door shut.

  When she gripped the steering wheel once more, Jayla could only smile when she noticed the light imprint the ring had left on her skin. That, at least, would suffice for now.

  * * *

  The airport wasn’t as crowded as usual, so Jayla was able to make her way through check-in in no time. It was while she was seated at her terminal that she felt her phone vibrating.

  “Now boarding all passengers on flight three-twenty-three to Chicago,” said a loud voice over the intercom.

  Jayla hobbled to her feet, grunting against the crutches. She managed to pull the phone from her purse.

  She was shocked, but not entirely surprised, to see Derrick’s number flashing on the little screen. He must have found the ring. Her finger hovered over the ACCEPT button. He didn’t deserve her. She frowned as the ringing persisted. She loved him enough to let him go. Regretfully, Jayla swiped the screen to reject the call. Starting over meant letting the past go.

  Just as quickly, her phone rang again. Jayla frowned at the screen, but this time, she did answer. She definitely needed to hear what Jasmine had to say. “What?” she snapped.

  “Auntie.” Jasmine’s voice was low. “How are you?”

  “Jasmine,” Jayla sighed, shutting her eyes against the exhaustion. “What do you want? After that whole thing with Ja
ckie, you’ve got some nerve even dialing my number.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry, Auntie.” Jasmine’s breath hitched. She sounded like she was beginning to cry. “I don’t know why I did it. I started feeling depressed. Like Auntie Jocelyn. I was angry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’ve always looked up to you.”

  Jayla glanced at the line at her gate. Starting over. Let the past go. “I forgive you, Jasmine,” she said. She may not have felt it completely in her heart, but she would eventually. With time. The smile came as she spoke. “I shouldn’t have even gotten you involved in everything. I’m sorry.” She wanted to tell Jasmine about the adoption. But not now. Not when they were just getting back on middle ground. “Listen, we need to talk soon. I’ll give you a call later.”

  “Where are you?” Jasmine asked.

  “I’m at the airport.”

  “Airport? Where are you going?”

  Jayla sighed. “Chicago. But I’ll be back to visit soon. Don’t worry about me. But I want you to go to school, you hear me? Get your life together.”

  “Jayla Morgan?”

  Jayla frowned and glanced up when she heard the familiar, yet authoritative voice.

  Heather grinned and lifted her hand into view. A police badge glistened like an emblem in her palm and had Jayla’s blood running cold.

  “Heather—”

  “Detective Shaw,” she said, correcting Jayla, as she reached to her waist for her handcuffs. “Jayla Morgan, you’re under arrest.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so, Auntie,” Jasmine said suddenly through the phone. “I got some better shit in store for myself. You, on the other hand, get your life together while you’re in jail, bitch.”

  Jayla’s mind fogged over, and she succumbed to a wave of dizziness. “You . . . ?”

  “They came to me, wanting you,” Jasmine answered coolly. “I delivered. I told you, you would regret crossing me. Checkmate, bitch.”

  Jasmine’s words, sounding so much like Jayla herself, had Jayla screaming, even as Heather was reaching to grab the phone. “You low-down, sneaky-ass bitch! You gone send your own mother to jail?”

  Silence.

  Then Jasmine’s sharp breathing sliced through the phone. “You’re not my fucking mother—”

  “You think you know everything, but you don’t know shit.” Jayla pulled away from Heather, fuming at the realization. Jasmine was the ultimate fucking Heartbreaker. “When I see you again, your ass is dead, bitch,” she threatened, making the sincere promise of each word clear.

  “That is enough, Ms. Morgan.” Heather yanked the phone from Jayla’s ear and handed it to her partner, who placed it in a plastic bag.

  “You don’t have anything on me,” Jayla said, her voice panic stricken. Shit looked bad, she knew. Especially since Heather had been, apparently, biding her time all along.

  “Oh, I have plenty,” Heather countered, a satisfied smirk crossing her face. “You forget, we’ve been watching you for a long time, collecting evidence, getting everything we need to build a solid case. Especially after our informant, Reggie, told us what we needed to know. Solicitation of prostitution, promoting prostitution . . .”

  Jayla rolled her eyes. The way she saw it, those misdemeanor threats were hard to prove, if they even held up in court.

  “Oh, and thanks to Jasmine,” Heather continued. “She was just who we needed to put the nail in the coffin on our investigation. So now we’re looking at pimping, pandering, racketeering, since you’re operating your little prostitution ring . . . Oh dear, we’re just getting started.”

  Jayla was fearful, but more importantly, she was pissed. She had never loathed anyone, but she felt some other kind of hatred for her daughter. It wasn’t until Heather grabbed her arm and buckled a steel cuff around her wrist that she figured starting over was going to take a little longer than she’d planned.

  THE END OF PART ONE