by Nia Arthurs
“Yes. Miss B read a story about female warriors. It was epic! They were so cool. She’s so cool.”
“Hm.” I arch an eyebrow at Mercy.
“She’s taken a liking to the teacher.”
“You love Miss B more than me?” I tickle Glory’s belly.
She shrieks with laughter. “Daddy, of course not.”
“Good.” I strap her into the car and open the door for Mercy.
While I take care of them, I keep an eye out for any black vehicles or suspicious characters staring at us, but I don’t see anything. It doesn’t keep the unease away though.
Mercy turns to me when I climb into the car. “Is something wrong, Heath? Don’t you have a big job that should be taking up your time right now?”
“The construction on the farmhouse got delayed.” I smile at Glory in the rearview mirror, keeping my voice low so she can’t hear what we’re discussing.
Mercy looks troubled. “Oh no. You promised the hospital you’d pay them soon.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to do? Glory’s getting so much better and those doctors—we could take her to a less expensive hospital but…”
I blow out a breath. “No. She’s staying.”
“Heath.”
“She’s staying,” I say firmly.
Glory is my life.
My light.
My precious little girl.
I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to destroy to protect my daughter. I’ll tear down anyone or anything that stands in my way. That includes my dad and that damn farmhouse.
Five
Brenna
My phone flashes with an incoming call while I’m in the elevator heading up to the top floor of an old research library.
Unknown number.
I debate letting it ring out.
At the last minute, I answer. “Hello?”
A deep, familiar rumble skitters in my ears. “Ms. Scott?”
The tension in my body winds all the way up.
That voice.
A memory of calm, olive eyes flashes before me. Thick fingers over bruised skin. Easy smiles shared between strangers.
“Who is this?” I ask breathlessly.
“The name’s Jameson, and I’m calling on behalf of Langley Corp.”
I’m instantly on the defensive.
No way.
This is definitely not the same guy from this morning.
Green Eyes didn’t strike me as a corporate lap dog. There was too much strength in his eyes. Too much stubbornness.
It’s not him.
I stiffen. “I don’t think I have anything to discuss with you or the corporation trying to tear down a historical landmark.”
“That hasn’t been proven yet.”
“It will.”
“Ms. Scott,” his voice is crisp and firm, “I think you’d be very interested in my proposal.”
I scoff. “And what exactly are you proposing?”
“End the landmark investigation and my clients will make it worth your while.”
“Just like that?”
“I’m not one to mince words, Ms. Scott. We can’t afford any more delays.”
I shake my head. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten a call like this, but no one’s ever been so blatant. “You do know you should put in a little more effort when you bribe, right?”
“It’s a very simple proposition.”
“Do I seem like someone who can be bought?”
“Name your price.”
“You wouldn’t be able to afford it,” I snap. “What I do is important.”
“What exactly do you do, Ms. Scott? I read your investigation report. Your findings were more unstable than a porch with a step missing.”
I stomp out of the elevator, a humorless gasp tearing from my lips. “I spent weeks researching and verifying my findings. I know our history—”
“What I know is that a team of men with families and bills have their livelihoods threatened because of you.”
“How is that even remotely my fault?” I hiss, striding forward in the dark library and slipping into a corner where I won’t be heard. My nails tighten on the cell phone and my heart is slamming so hard against my ribs I’m sure it’s about to buck right out like a bull at a rodeo. “Maybe it’s their incompetent contractor who should be doing better research on the houses he takes on.”
There’s a long, tense silence on the other end of the line.
I breathe deeply, trying to keep more colorful words from flying out of my mouth. It’s not my first time being looked down upon for what I do, but it never makes the condescension any easier. This stranger who barely knows me has no right to judge.
“Take the money, Ms. Scott.” His voice is a growl.
“How much will you give me? One hundred thousand? One million?”
“Ms. Scott.” The growl is closer to a bark this time and, despite the fury cloaking me, it sends tingles skittering down my spine and straight into my stomach.
I’m so pathetic.
It’s been too long since I’ve dated. Or maybe my encounter with Green Eyes this morning sent my hormones out of whack.
I cross my legs and ignore the tremors in my body. “There’s a possibility that farmhouse is important to history. If there’s a chance, even the slightest, that it was a part of a fight for freedom, I’m going to take it.”
“And I’m afraid I can’t allow you to delay us any longer.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.”
I scowl into the distance. “You think I haven’t heard my share of ‘warnings’ from jerks like you?”
“What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Ms. Scott? You think keeping an old relic in one piece will help someone in need? I’m offering you a chance to make a real difference. This generous donation can propel your cause in ways you can’t even imagine. One farmhouse isn’t that big of a sacrifice compared to that.”
“If I compromise on one, then I’m completely compromised. Do you think I’ve come this far chasing after dollars?”
“I think the most dangerous people are the ones who believe they’re right even when they’re wrong.”
“I’m sure your condemnation has nothing to do with the fact that I’m standing in your way.” My hands shake as my voice rises with passion. “I’m fighting for something worthwhile.” Marinette’s face pops into mind. “I’m fighting for change, even if you don’t see it that way.”
“We all have something we’re fighting for.”
“But we aren’t all jerks about it.”
“Is that a no to the proposal?” he asks darkly.
“It’s a big fat ‘screw you’.”
“Ms. Scott—”
“Congratulations. You just made things personal. You’re going down, Jameson.”
He pauses and then sighs. “Look, this is not how I wanted the conversation to go. Why don’t we calm down? Start over.”
“I am calm.”
“And,” he talks over me, “discuss this in person.”
“Why would I waste time with a man who thinks my work means nothing?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“We’re all just trying to make the world a better place, Ms. Scott.”
“Last I heard, lining your own pockets doesn’t count as any sort of charity, Jameson. Besides, the world isn’t getting better no matter what we do.”
“Is that why you’re so obsessed with the past? You’re afraid of the future?”
I bark out a laugh. “Why the hell would they send someone like you to bribe me?”
“This is an impossibly generous offer, Ms. Scott. I don’t need to sweet-talk you into taking something that should be an easy yes.”
I grit my teeth, pulling my fingers into fists. If only I could launch a punch right into his probably ugly face.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a cocky bast
ard?” I hiss.
There’s a hint of amusement in his tone when he says, “You’d be the first.”
“It’s an honor.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep myself contained.
“Sadly, I can’t say the same.”
My temper ignites, dancing through my body and searing every vein.
Pompous, egotistical jerk.
You’re at a library, Brenna. You can’t fly off the handle.
“Consider the fact that this offer won’t be on the table forever.”
“You can take that offer and shove it.”
He says nothing, but my ear gets hot. I can feel him fuming on the other end of the line.
“Just so you know, I’m blocking this number,” I hiss.
“Ms. Scott—”
“And if I see you in front of me, I’m calling the police. Immediately. Do you hear me? Goodbye.” I wrench the phone away from my ear and hammer the end call button like I’m trying to crush the screen in.
Shoving the phone into my purse, I stomp back to the giant tomes lying open on the table.
I’m still shaking.
How dare he?
Under no circumstances is that jerk contractor going to get his way.
I’ll keep that farmhouse standing if it kills me.
Six
Brenna
The next day, I head downtown to meet with Kaelyn. It feels like I’ve been staring at old documents and newspaper clippings for ages. My brain’s been begging me for a break.
I walk into the giant conference room that’s been converted into our company office.
Books fill every shelf. Posters with inspiring quotes hang from thick hooks. A few African artifacts from my travels are on display, but the rest are in storage, waiting for us to find a new place.
Kaelyn stands next to the window, posing fiercely in a gorgeous green, red and yellow dashiki. The cloth contrasts beautifully with her dark brown skin. Her usually curly hair is plaited in chunky Siamese twists that fall down her back. She tilts her chin up to catch the perfect angle while smiling at the camera.
I knock on the door to announce my entrance.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, straightening with a grin.
“Nice ‘smize’. You’ve been practicing.”
“I just imagine Tyra Banks screaming at me and it helps.” Kaelyn strides toward me. “You look tired.”
I shake my head. “Have you heard from the city council today?”
“They’re swinging in our favor. If we find conclusive evidence to prove it was an Underground Railroad, that farmhouse will be preserved for all of time.”
“Great.”
Kaelyn’s perfectly shaped eyebrows pull in tightly. “You never told me. What happened out there yesterday? Did the workers fight with you?”
“They always fight with me.”
“That’s why it’s better to wait for the city to do their thing. It’s a lot more official and a lot safer.”
“Red tape takes too long. If I hadn’t shown up, they would have had that farmhouse in pieces by the time they got the call.”
“Even so.” She nudges me with her foot. “Is that all?”
I hesitate before admitting, “I… met someone yesterday.”
“A construction worker?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. He was wearing the boots.” I shrug.
“Tall, dark and handsome?”
“Yes. Dark blonde. And yes.”
“Mm. Sounds scrumptious.” She wags her finger at me. “And don’t tell Kastle I said that.”
“Don’t tell Kastle what?” A masculine voice calls.
I grin. “That Kaelyn thinks the guy I met today is scrumptious.”
Kastle’s dark brown eyes narrow to slits. The sun glistens over his flawless skin and straight black hair that he keeps in a short, stylish haircut.
“Babe, she’s just kidding,” Kaelyn strides over to her Asian boyfriend who arches an eyebrow at her.
“What are you talking about? I just heard you.”
“Thanks, Brenna,” Kaelyn says through gritted teeth. “So helpful.”
Kastle folds his arms over his chest when Kaelyn tries to edge up against him. “So someone else is scrumptious to you?”
“Baby, you know I only have eyes for you.”
“Me and Mr. Scrumptious,” Kastle says in a dark voice that’s made less effective by his smile.
Kaelyn pushes out her bottom lip. She’s got Kastle wrapped around her little finger, which is why we’re temporarily working out of his million-dollar building when, according to our budget, our offices should be in a little corner alley next to an opioid den.
Kaelyn gives Kastle a peck on the lips and the man about loses his ability to stand.
My smile inches up at the sight of them. I don’t begrudge Kaelyn her happiness. Especially when I think of the fact that the best friends had been in love with each other for decades without admitting it.
But as her boss, I want to get back to our own space. Not only because I like my independence and relying on Kastle’s generosity doesn’t sit right with me, but because working in close proximity to Kastle is super distracting for Kaelyn. They’re always sneaking off together thinking they’re being slick.
Which they aren’t.
At all.
“Did you need something, Kastle?” I ask, glad to get off the topic of the construction worker.
Kaelyn bats her eyelashes. “Didn’t you stop by because you miss me?”
“Why would I miss you?” He flicks her temple and Kaelyn squeals. Kastle smirks and then looks at me. “I heard about the farmhouse and wanted to take you two out to an early lunch. My brother’s coming too. Apparently, one of his projects hit some red tape and he’s a little pissed. He could use a little cheering up.”
I narrow my eyes. “This isn’t a set-up, right?”
Kaelyn flutters her slender hand. “Please. If I wanted to set you up, I’d kidnap your behind and drive you down to Make It Marriage.”
“You’re banned from meddling.” I jab my finger at her.
Kastle smirks. “What did she do?”
“Encourage me to go home with a stranger I just met at a bar.”
“It worked for Cinderella.”
“Cinderella was smarter than me. She ran from the prince at midnight,” I counter.
“Snow White then.”
Kastle just chuckles quietly, staring at Kaelyn like she holds his entire world.
“Just admit that you suck.” I scowl playfully.
“Yes. Fine. It’s my fault you ended up dating that bartender jerk.” Kaelyn tosses her braids over her shoulder. “But if it was Kayla, Venus, Amina or Tierra, that would have never happened.”
Kastle’s phone chirps. “That’s Heath. He’s almost there. We should get going.”
“Sure.” I grab my purse and round the desk as I grin at Kastle. “It’s a great day to meet your brother.”
Seven
Heath
I feel slimy after I end the call with Ms. Scott. Dirtier than I do when I’m working with dry cement all day. If something’s right, then the path should clear up. But if someone has to strong-arm their way through…
Paying people off reminds me of something mom would do.
Am I slowly turning into a regular Jameson?
The end justifies the means.
Or does it? Is that just an excuse I’m telling myself to break my own values?
I do sound too much like mom.
Another sigh tears through my chest.
I should let mom know that I’m in town, but I just haven’t convinced myself its worth the hassle.
I love my mother, but I can’t live with her. I’m not like Kastle. My younger brother has always been the ‘big-picture’ type. While I ran away from home at the first opportunity, drunk on emotion and rebellion, Kastle stayed behind. He played the long game, fooling everyone and slowly taking over the company.
I respect that.
>
Right now, I need that.
Because the way I’m feeling, if dad does make a move, I’m going to take Glory and run. Run as far away from my parents as I can.
I don’t want to fight, but I will.
Dad’s words run circles through my head like some kind of haunted merry-go-round.
I can’t focus on the job and the worst place to be when distracted is an active construction site, so I’m going to cool off with Kastle for lunch. Maybe, after a few hours with my brother, I won’t feel like such a douche.
I tighten my fingers on the steering wheel and steer the car between the yellow lines.
Kastle’s vehicle isn’t here yet.
Sitting still for a minute, I glance outside and notice the high rise in the distance. Reflective metal. Large spikes. Huge sign. The Jameson Complex towers over the buildings nearby like some kind of evil dictator.
The building was mom’s design. The woman’s got her hands in everything. She’s an expert at identifying people’s vulnerabilities and moving them around like sock puppets.
I used to be one of her many toys.
So was Glory’s mother.
But mom will never get her hands on Glory.
And neither will dad.
I straighten my shoulders and climb out of the car. This isn’t a matter of morality. I made a decision to do what I must to protect my daughter and that call to Ms. Scott was just the start.
Climbing out of the truck, I enter the diner. The moment I step through, the room goes quiet.
Women give me a slow, head-to-toe sweep. The looks I’m getting right now have nothing to do with the Jameson brand. And I’m grateful for it, especially when I think about what Kastle goes through.
My brother was adopted from China for the sole purpose of getting mom more views on her show. He got showered with the best money could buy and, in exchange, mom treated him like a disposable child actor.
All the women who watched mom’s show saw Kastle grow up and now feel entitled to his personal business and personal space. How Kastle puts up with it, I have no idea. Just being in the periphery of those crowds makes me want to punch my fist through a table.
He just smiles and takes it.