I’d just laughed at some antic from Will Smith when the show went to a commercial break. The pretty young girl that appeared caught my eye. She was sitting on a plush lawn reading a book as a narrator talked over her.
“When the world is your oyster, let Jarvis Christian College arm you with the tools to succeed,” the voice said.
It was a shot of a small campus, and my heart immediately ached as I thought of Wiz. I wondered if he’d even have a funeral since there was no one to plan one. Maybe if I hadn’t talked Wiz out of running, he would still be here and fulfilling his dream of going to college. The thought made the ache in my heart throb.
“Come to Jarvis Christian College, where a whole new world awaits you,” the narrator continued.
The commercial reminded me that I needed to call Mr. G. from the Boys & Girls Club. He was the only person that could get me details on Wiz. And maybe he could tell Mrs. Rodríguez about Paco so I wouldn’t have to. I picked up the phone and dialed the club. I only remembered the number because it had been the same for as long as I’d attended the Boys & Girls Club.
“Hi, Mr. G., it’s Trey,” I said after the receptionist patched me through.
“Hey, man.” He sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. “How are you holding up? I heard about Wiz.”
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Word on the street is Monster’s crew took him out?”
I was silent. The last thing I was about to do was snitch on Monster. I was in enough trouble as it was. I wanted to ask him if he knew about Paco, but since he hadn’t said anything about him, I could only assume he didn’t know.
Mr. G. took my silence as my answer and said, “I hate that you’re caught up in all of this, Trey.”
“Yeah, me too.” Silence filled the phone again. “Have you heard anything about Wiz’s funeral?”
“Naw. I checked. Heard they were going to be taking him to County. There probably won’t be a funeral.”
Another pain shot through my chest. My man couldn’t even be properly laid to rest.
“Wiz told me about you getting him into Jarvis,” I said, trying to change the subject and get my mind off Wiz.
“Yep, it makes me sad because they’d given us the scholarship to disburse and Wiz was so excited.” Mr. G. paused, then said, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I told Wiz I wanted to talk about getting you both in school there.”
“Me? Man, you know I ain’t no college material.”
“No. I know you are college material. You’re the one who doesn’t know you’re college material.”
For the first time since Wiz had brought up college, I wondered . . . could this be my out, too? Just as quickly as the thought came, it was gone.
“Nah, you know about my little brother,” I said. “He’s in the system and I gotta stay around so I can make sure they don’t abuse him or anything.”
“Well, until you get your life together, you can’t be any good to him. And the only way you can get it together is to get out of the game.”
He had that right. “You know this ain’t me. I don’t even like the game,” I said.
“That’s my point exactly. That’s why it may be time to try something different. That’s what I told Wiz.”
I finally stopped to think about it. I’d been saving money because my dream was to get out of this life, but I didn’t really have a plan. A college degree could be a plan. Jamal would be twelve or thirteen by the time I finished, but that would be enough time for me to make an impact in his life. If I had a college degree, a decent job, and some money, no way could a social worker deny me getting my brother. “You really think I could make it in college?”
“I know you could,” he replied. He sounded like he was getting excited that I would actually consider it. “And me and the other counselors would be there to help you.”
“What about Jamal?” I asked. “You know I can’t leave him.”
“I’ll check on Jamal, and every time you come home you can go see him.”
I knew Mr. G. was right. Not only was I in no position to take care of Jamal, once Monster found me I wouldn’t even be around to take care of him.
“You know, I just may take you up on that,” I finally said.
“Great! You should come by here tomorrow so we can talk this out.”
I had to let him know the situation. “I’m kinda on the run.”
“Where are you now?” he asked without hesitation. That’s why we all liked him—he never judged us.
“I’m at some hotel downtown.” I glanced at the name on the phone. “The Markham Hotel is the name. But I can only stay here through tomorrow.”
He went quiet like he was thinking. “I would let you stay here, but I can’t bring that Monster drama to my doorstep. We recently adopted a little boy and I can’t put him in any danger.”
“Nah, I’m good, Mr. G. I wouldn’t do that to you. And congrats on your son.”
“Thanks.” He paused like he was deep in thought. “You know what? Here’s what I can do,” he continued. “I’ll call the social worker, see if we can do a day pass visit, and I’ll bring Jamal to see you.”
That brought an instant smile to my face. “For real?”
“Yeah. I’ll also make some calls about the college. I have all your high school stuff on file. I’ve seen your grades, so I know you can do this. Switching the application from William—I mean Wiz—to you shouldn’t be a problem. Then we’ll put you on a bus.”
“I don’t have anything—clothes, shoes, nothing.”
“Do you need to go by your house?”
I thought about the two raggedy pairs of tennis shoes I had. The one decent pair of Jordans that I’d splurged on from Monster’s money were on my feet. And my closet was bare. No, I didn’t need to risk going back to Ms. Laura’s for those few things.
“Nah. You think you can get me some clothes?”
“Of course, you’re what, a thirty-two and a large?”
“Yes,” I said, surprised that he knew, since I hadn’t been to see him in months.
“Great, we’ll bring you some clothes and toiletries tomorrow,” he said.
“So I would leave now?” This was not what I’d envisioned when I’d called him.
“Didn’t you say you’re running from Monster?”
This was all moving so fast. “Yeah, but . . . just wow. I don’t even know where Jarvis is.”
“It’s right outside Dallas,” he said.
“What am I going to do once I get there?”
“Don’t worry, you can work through the end of the year. We’ll hook you up with my contact there, and you can start school in January. Trust me, we’ll work it all out.”
I couldn’t believe this. Going to college had been the last thing I’d expected when I picked up the phone to call.
“Just hang tight. Lay low tonight, and I’ll come by tomorrow at noon. Meet me in the lobby. Cool?”
I smiled. “Cool.” Then I added, “Mr. G., thank you so much.”
“It’s my pleasure. You know it’s my life’s work to help you guys out,” he said before hanging up.
I leaned back against the headboard.
I was going to college.
Maybe I’d do like Wiz said, join a fraternity, meet a nice college girl, and most of all, get an education that opened the door to a better life. I looked around the room. That opened the door to this life.
I glanced over at that book. I hadn’t cracked it open, but I was grateful that whatever was in there had led Mrs. Rodríguez to want to help me. Otherwise, I would’ve never seen the Jarvis commercial and I wouldn’t have called Mr. G.
My grandmother used to always say there are angels in our midst. My angels—Mrs. Rodríguez and Mr. G.—had just put my future on a whole new path.
chapter
* * *
42
“Trey!”
The sight of my little brother running toward me made
my heart swell with joy. He jumped into my arms and I swung him around.
“Look at you, you little knucklehead!” I said, palming his forehead.
“I don’t have a knucklehead!”
“Yes, you do,” I said. “But it’s the best-looking knucklehead I’ve ever seen.” I hugged him tightly as I looked up at Mr. G., standing beside us in the lobby of the Markham Hotel. “Thank you so much,” I mouthed.
Mr. G. nodded. “We had to work some magic, but God must’ve been on your side.” He winked, and then I noticed the pretty lady standing next to him.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi,” she replied.
“This is my wife, Savannah,” Mr. G. said. “Babe, this is Trey, Jamal’s brother that I was telling you about. You met him years ago, back when he used to come to the Boys & Girls Club all the time.”
“How are you? Yes, you have definitely grown up from the last time I saw you,” she said.
“I’m great now that I got to see my little brother.” I hugged Jamal again.
“Can we go play basketball?” Jamal asked.
“I wish.”
Mr. G. knelt down so that he was face-to-face with my little brother.
“Jamal, remember I told you. We are just here to see your brother for a little bit.”
Jamal buried his face in my shoulder. “I wanna stay with him.”
That almost made me cry.
“You know what, Jamal? You see that candy over there by the front desk? How would you feel about some Skittles?” Mr. G. asked as he stood.
The mention of Skittles must have made Jamal forget what he was just upset about, because he jumped up and down. “Yes!”
Mr. G. handed him two dollars and pointed to the counter. “Just tell that man over there what you want and he’ll get it. We’ll be standing right here. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”
I watched him dart over to the counter, and reality started to set in.
“I don’t know how I’m going to make it at school worried about him. I’ve heard horror stories about those group homes. At least with me going every other day, I could check on him.”
Mr. G. and his wife exchanged looks. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked her.
She nodded. They were smiling at each other like they were up to no good. “Frankie would love a sibling,” she said.
“What are you guys talking about?” I asked. “Who’s Frankie?”
“The little boy who I told you my wife and I just adopted,” Mr. G. said. “He just came home last week and we’re already in love. He’s in school right now.”
“Oh, cool,” I said. A thought came to me, and a quick pang shot through my heart. I didn’t want Jamal to get adopted because I was coming back to get him, but I did want him to go to a safe foster home. But what if he got with a family that didn’t let him see me?
“Franklin is seven,” Mr. G. said, “close in age to Jamal.”
Now I was wondering what they were talking about.
“And well,” Mrs. G. spoke up, “we were thinking Franklin might like a big brother.”
“What?” I said.
“Well, my wife and I kinda bonded with Jamal on the way over here,” Mr. G. said. “And once she learned he’s in the system . . .”
Mrs. G. continued his sentence. “I knew immediately that I’d like to get to know your brother a little better. And then maybe he can come live with us. That way you can see him whenever you want,” she said. “We’re already certified so we’d make excellent foster parents.”
I looked back and forth between them.
“Are you serious, Mr. G.?”
“As triple bypass surgery,” he replied. “I figured you’d be able to focus on school if you know your little brother is well taken care of.”
I wanted to jump for joy right there in that hotel lobby.
“Oh, snap. That’s awesome,” I said. I was hugging both of them when Mrs. Rodríguez walked into the lobby.
“Mrs. Rodríguez,” I called out to her. I knew she was coming to make sure I got out of the room okay. “Over here!” She headed over to me.
“Hello, Trey. How was everything?” Something was different about her. Her eyes were reddish and her smile didn’t seem as genuine as it was the other day. Still, I couldn’t contain my excitement.
“You were right!” I exclaimed. “Everything worked out.”
I threw my arms around her neck, too, which caught her by surprise. “Well, that’s some kind of thank-you. I guess that means your room was fine?”
“It was better than fine, and I didn’t even eat everything out of the minibar!”
She laughed, then noticed Mrs. G. “Savannah? What in the world are you doing here?”
She looked surprised as well. “Actually, we’re here for Trey. But I thought you were working with the Freedom Coalition,” she said.
“I am,” Mrs. Rodríguez replied. “I just came to make sure Trey was okay. You know him?”
“Yes, he’s one of the kids in my husband’s program.”
“Well, small world.” Mrs. Rodríguez smiled, then looked at Mr. G. in recognition. “Aren’t you from the Boys & Girls Club?”
Mr. G. nodded.
“I used to bring my son there.”
“Who’s your son?” Mr. G. asked.
My muscles tightened in my stomach.
Her mood turned somber. “Paco Rodríguez.”
“Yes, Paco,” Mr. G. said. “I haven’t talked to him in a couple of years, how is he?”
She swallowed like she was trying to compose herself. “Unfortunately, I found out yesterday that he was killed. I was coming to see about Trey, and then—” She paused to compose herself. “I have to go to the morgue. My son has apparently been there for days.”
Mr. and Mrs. G. gasped. I looked away.
“I am so sorry,” Mrs. G. said. Mr. G. was studying me and I could tell he knew I knew something.
“I have cried all night,” Mrs. Rodríguez continued, “but I know God has His reasons for everything.” She took a deep breath, then managed a faint smile. “Just pray for my family’s strength. My children are not taking this well.”
“Of course,” Mrs. G. said.
Her eyes must’ve asked an unspoken question because Mrs. Rodríguez said, “I have no idea what Paco’s death means for me, but I just have to stay faithful.”
Mrs. G. squeezed her hand. “Keep in touch and let me know if there is anything we can do.”
Jamal came running back up to us. He held up his bag. “I got Tropical Skittles,” he announced.
“May I have some?” I asked, if for no other reason than to ease the heavy cloud that hung over us.
Jamal looked around at all of us. “Okay, everybody gets two.” I couldn’t help but smile because he was serious.
“I say we go grab some dinner, then take you to the bus station,” Mr. G. said after my brother had distributed his Skittles.
“Oh, you’re leaving?” Mrs. Rodríguez said.
I nodded. “Going to start a new life. Thank you for saving my old one.”
“I’m so glad our paths crossed.” Now, her smile was genuine.
She reached in and hugged me. “I couldn’t save my son.” She patted my cheek. “But I’m grateful I could help save you. I need to get going, though.” Fresh tears sprung to her eyes. “I have a funeral to plan.”
I felt guilty that I hadn’t told her what I knew about Paco or that I even knew him. But it was obvious that she’d been through enough. And I had no doubt that she had the strength to carry on.
“Take care of yourself,” Mrs. G. said, hugging her. “And again, let me know if you need anything.”
Mrs. Rodríguez managed one last smile before she walked away.
We all looked down at Jamal, who was intensely studying each Skittle, and that lightened the mood.
“Come on,” I said, reaching for my brother’s hand. “Let’s roll, li’l bro.”
As we left out of
the Markham Hotel, Jamal’s hand intertwined with mine, and with Mr. and Mrs. G. close behind us, it felt like . . . a family. I knew we weren’t a family. But after what Mr. G. and his wife were doing for me, I couldn’t help but feel like we were destined to be one.
It’s amazing how just a matter of days, in one room, could change the course of someone’s life.
I was grateful that someone was me and for the first time in my young life, I felt hope.
A Note from the Author
When you’ve written forty-plus books, you’d think that you might run out of ideas. But the universe has been kind to me, by giving me an infinite amount of creativity. (Okay, and some drama-filled family and friends that keep me swathed in story ideas.) I am just thankful that I am able to continue to create books that people want to read.
I wake up every day thanking God for that blessing.
I’ve lost count of which book number this actually is. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I’ve been blessed to have a long and somewhat successful career doing what I love. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love were it not for all the people in my corner.
Thank you to my amazing family. Though you long ago stopped being impressed with my new books, your support has never wavered. To my children—I love you to the moon and beyond. Special shout-out to my little sissy, Tanisha Tate. Y’all, I love this chick. The end.
My business partner, writing partner, therapist, voice of reason, and friend-till-the-end, Victoria Christopher Murray, thank you for always helping me talk through my stories, for picking up the slack when I’m slacking, for providing motivation and encouragement, and for getting me off the couch . . . I am eternally grateful.
My core . . . my forever ride-or-die friends who stopped reading at book number two but never stopped supporting—Jaimi Canady, Raquelle Lewis, Kim Wright, and Clemelia Humphrey Richardson—love you ladies for life!
Pat Tucker, I am forever grateful for your support and friendship. Nina Foxx, I’m blessed to call you a friend.
To my soror, my friend, my publicist, Norma Warren, who will never admit it, but I’m sure has called me some very unsisterly names , thank you for your love and patience. I’m still working to #DoBetter.
The Book in Room 316 Page 20