Joslyn (Women of Privilege Book 3)

by Bridget Bundy

  “I’m going to ask Oliver,” I remark defiantly.

  “You really believe he’s going to tell you? Let’s face it, Joslyn. My dad isn’t your biggest fan, and he’s not going to open up to you and tell you his business.”

  “Can you give me a hint? One hint, Terrence.”

  “No, I’m not,” he says.

  “I’m going to ask Sarah. She should know.”

  “She doesn’t.”

  “You’re only saying that so I won’t ask.”

  “No, that’s not it at all. You can ask, Joslyn, but I’m telling as the god’s honest truth that my mom doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.”

  “I can’t stand secrets being kept from me, Terrence. I’m not letting this go.”

  “You should. Believe me, you don’t want to know the truth.” He glances at his wristwatch. “Look, I got to go.”

  He’s lying to try and get away from me. Terrence starts down the hallway, heading for the elevator.

  “Aren’t you going to say good-bye to Harlan?”

  “I’m coming right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Terrence stops and says, “I’m going to warn my dad that you’ve been asking about him.”

  Why would he do that? That’s all he’s going to do is piss Oliver off more because I’m getting into his business.

  “Just kidding,” Terrence says with a chuckle. “Going to get something to eat. The kids wanted McDonald’s, remember?”

  “Don’t get them anything,” I respond. “I’m cooking dinner when we get home.”

  “They’ll be disappointed,” he says, pushing the button to the elevator.

  “They’ll be fine.” I rush over to Terrence. “Just tell me before you go. I promise I won’t say a word to Harlan. He won’t even know that you told me, and he won’t even know that I know.”

  “What did you just say to me, Joslyn, about secrets?”

  Now, I’m irritated. How can he use my motto against me?

  The bell goes off and the elevator doors open. Terrence steps inside the empty compartment and pushes a button.

  “You want me to bring you something?” he asks with a stupid grin on his face.

  “I’m going to find out,” I remark. I don’t even believe what I just said.

  “Ah, no, you won’t.”

  The door closes. I’m so annoyed at this point that I can’t even think straight. What is the big huge secret? I wonder if the kids know. I need to get real, real fast. If Harlan hasn’t told me about Oliver yet, that also means he hasn’t told the kids. Maybe, I should hound Harlan until he gives it up. No secrets mean exactly that, and I won’t stand for a compromise or an excuse. I need to know. But not now, not while Harlan is in the room with the kids, his mom and her husband.

  I go back into Harlan’s room. He’s tucked in bed, looking pissed off. His mother won the battle.

  “Mom, where is Uncle Terrence?” Janae asks, while standing and flipping through the channels on the television set. “Is he getting us something to eat?”

  “He did go out to get something to eat, but he’s not bringing back anything.”

  A collective whine comes from the kids.

  “Why don’t you take the kids’ home?” Harlan suggests. “Come back tomorrow bright and early to pick me up. You too, Mom. All of ya’ll go home and get some rest.”

  “I want to spend the night,” Kale remarks.

  “Sorry, can’t be done,” Harlan says. “Take them home, Joslyn. They’ve been here long enough.”

  “Dad, I don’t want to leave,” Janae whines.

  “Get your stuff together,” I remark with finality. “Give your dad a big hug and kiss.”

  I gather my purse on my shoulder, while watching the kids pout and drag. It’s funny to watch, actually. They look like silly zombies who got their feelings hurt. One by one, they give their father a hug and a kiss. Each one leaving out soon afterwards. I give Harlan a kiss that has a little pressure, some addictive longing for more, but we keep it sweet and very vanilla.

  “Call me if the police contacts you,” I say to Harlan.

  “Same for you,” he tells me.

  “Love you, baby.”

  I say good-night to Sarah and Jeremiah before leaving the room. Once outside in the hallway, I lead the kids to the elevator, taking long wide steps. I don’t want them to get any ideas about going back to their dad’s room. One slow down, one hesitation or looking back on my part, and they’ll have an instant excuse and will be go back to their father before I can stop them. They’ll have all day tomorrow and beyond to be around him. But for now, we need to get home and get ready for tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Back at my sister’s house once again, and the emptiness is heavier this time. It’s not complete without Harlan and Davian. The twins and Kristina do bring their own spirit and love to this house, but it doesn’t fill it. I just want to sit in a corner and cry, but I can’t do that. I have to keep moving for the sake of my other children, to show them I haven’t given up. And that means getting back into the routines that keeps us all busy.

  We’re going to get the house ready for Harlan. Not exactly what I want to do, but it’s time to prepare for his return. I make Kristina straighten the great hall. The twins dust the library. All of them have to change the sheets on their beds and clean their rooms, too. I take care of the kitchen, which doesn’t take very long, and then I venture upstairs to change the sheets on my bed, as well. It’s almost like making a fresh start in my mind.

  After remaking my bed, I carry the dirty laundry down the hall. Davian’s room is the first one I walk by, and I stop. The door is closed. I put the sheets on the floor and turn the knob. In my crazy mind, I’m hoping that Davian is in the room and is about to jump out from the closet or behind the bed and yell, “GOTCHA! FOOLED YOU, MOM!” Stupid on my part, but I can’t help what I feel or what I think. I miss him so much.

  Peeking inside, I notice Davian hasn’t made his bed. His sneakers are on the dresser, still new and in the box. Now why wouldn’t he pack them Monday morning? He wore them everywhere. Davian also left his sketchbooks and charcoal. He never leaves that stuff behind. Maybe, he had another sketchpad and perhaps, he was tired of those shoes. They’re old, anyway. In the corner right behind the door are stacks of Manga. I wish he had kept that at our house on Privilege Place. There’s a hint of his scent in the room. It makes my eyes water.

  That kid, how am I living without him? Davian is such a good boy and down to earth. He doesn’t like expensive tennis shoes or hide Playboy magazines under his bed or smoke weed. He enjoys being creative, reading, and staying at home. He tries to mimic his father’s exceptional manners. I think I lucked out when God gave me that kid.

  Instantly, I have a need to clean his room. If he comes home…No…When he comes home, Davian will be mad, but this is what moms do. We clean, and if we don’t do it, we make our children do it. And then we clean up behind them, anyway. I start by taking off the sheets. Something hard tumbles onto the floor. It’s a cell phone. I toss the sheets into the hallway and pick up the cell. It doesn’t look familiar. Davian has an iPhone, but he broke it. What I’m looking at is an off brand cell that I haven’t really seen before.

  I sit down on the bed, turning over the phone as if someone’s name will be etched or taped on the back. My curiosity is eating me up. I have to know who it belongs to. I tap the screen and a drawing of a blonde girl with the biggest fake boobs I’ve ever seen pops up. Not going to say a word. Davian is a teenager with hormones. I’m just glad the drawing isn’t a totally naked girl. I slide the screen. The phone app indicates that there are a lot of phone calls being made coming in last week and earlier this week. I select it. Some are missed calls, but I nearly lose my mind when I see one familiar name.

  Allison James. Davian knows her? Can’t be true. My face burns and my hands shake. How can Davian know her? I’m jumping to conclusions. Phone calls from Allison James cou
ld mean anything. Perhaps, they weren’t friends, and she was threatening him.

  I scroll through the list. She called the phone several times for a week up until Sunday, July 2nd. Six were from Owen Cooper. I have no idea who that is. His were placed early only in the morning on Monday, July 3rd. Perhaps, he’s the one with the dreadlocks. Two are from Ellie Reynolds, Davian’s ex-girlfriend, the one he thought I didn’t know about last school year. She called twice on the Fourth of July. She had to know that he was missing, but perhaps, she was hoping to reach out to him. Four calls are from Ayden Gibson, placed last week. Ayden is a friend he used to hang out with when they were in school. I don’t believe I’ve heard or seen Ayden since they’ve been on summer vacation. Phoenix Snow called. He’s the college basketball player that lives in the house across the street from where Gia used to live. I kind of have an issue with my son talking to Phoenix Snow. The guy is older than Davian, an adult, in college, and heavy into sports. My son is not into sports from what I’ve seen; never went to a high school sporting event or a college one, not even to watch practices. So, what do those two have in common? Not a thing from what I can tell. Perhaps, Phoenix has dreadlocks. Wait, no, he doesn’t. I saw him at the party Charli Love and Natasha Mathis threw for my family over a week ago. His hair was cut in a Mohawk.

  With all of these phone calls, I’m really only worried about the ones from Owen Cooper. I don’t know who he is. I imagine Owen Cooper must be the dreadlocks guy, but how does Davian know him? Or am I totally wrong, and this isn’t Davian’s phone at all. I don’t know what to think anymore.

  What should I really do here? I have to consider my choices. Should I call this Owen Cooper and find out if he’s the man with the dreadlocks? Should I call Detective Sawyer or Detective Richardson and give them the phone? That would be the smart thing to do, but what if Davian is involved? No, he wouldn’t. That’s crazy. He’s a good boy. He had good grades in school every year. He never got into trouble with any of his teachers. I never really had to berate him or go behind him. The worse thing about him is that he doesn’t know how to keep his room clean. I’m assuming the worse, but damn it! Why did he have this phone in his room? Maybe, I should call Harlan, but telling him would only make him worry. He still needs to take it easy and not think or worry so much. Harlan will get excited and stressed out, and that’s the last thing he needs to do in his condition.

  Jackie. No. Maybe? No, I’m not going to do it. She’ll tell me to give it to the police, and I’m not sure if I want that to happen just yet. Perhaps, I should call this Owen Cooper, but what if I call and the guy gets spooked? He won’t answer his phone again or even worse, he might toss it.

  I’m at a complete loss. I don’t know what to do.

  Kale and Janae come into the room. Quickly, I hide the phone behind my back. I don’t want them to ask me any questions about it. They start complaining about being hungry, and I tell them to tell Kristina to warm up frozen dinners. Not exactly my plan for a meal, but I wasn’t expecting to find this phone, either.

  Right when they leave the room, I make a decision right then and there on what to do. I have to look out for Davian. He’s my flesh and blood, and if he’s involved in his own kidnapping, then I have to find him first.

  I’m going to be smart about this, though. I’m not calling Owen Cooper directly. Instead, I dial up Phoenix Snow’s number using Jackie’s house phone in my bedroom. I think calling from Davian’s phone will be a bad idea. I’m sure Phoenix knows that Davian is missing and to get a call from Davian’s phone out of the blue might scare Phoenix. He’ll call the police, and I can’t have that, not with the possibility that my own son could end up in jail over his own kidnapping.

  “Hello,” Phoenix answers with a chuckle. Sounds like he’s drunk, but I’m not quite sure.

  Honestly, I really don’t know Phoenix Snow or his parents that well. His mother, Tempest Snow, does not travel in the Ladies of Tudor circle. She doesn’t come to our meetings nor does she try to make any of the parties. They pay their home owner’s association dues on time. They keep their lawns and house up to standard, and they don’t cause any problems with anyone. Tempest has made it known that she prefers to be left alone. I believe she had that neighborhood figured out the moment she moved in, and she summarily shut out all nosy and busybody neighbors before they could even begin to ask questions, namely Charli Love. I can’t say I blame her. Rumors get around Tudor Estates like the plague on steroids, and once it’s out there, it metamorphosis into something totally different from what was first said. Tempest Snow has saved herself from drama in that aspect, whereas I have been front and center and mixed up all in it. Not anymore.

  Phoenix’s father, Atticus, is a professional football player. He’s a quarterback, but he’s not the first string, or whatever the football jargon is. Still, Atticus is popular with many of the ladies around Tudor. He’s never made his way into my house, and he never will. I don’t care for a man who uses women, disrespects them, and then tosses them aside after the thrill is long gone. Atticus doesn’t even act like he’s married. I’ve always said that Tempest knows about his infedilities, but I think she overlooks it because he always come home to her. But still, I don’t know why she puts up with him. And I guess that’s another reason why she doesn’t socialize with the neighborhood ladies. Why be in cahoots with the women whose opened their legs to her husband? Why be friendly with the women that’s actively seeking out her man? And why sit in a meeting or be at a party surrounding by people that talks about her and hates her and laughs at her. Tempest may be smart in that aspect, keeping her distance, but she’s dumb when it comes to her husband.

  “Who is this?” Phoenix asks.

  “This is Mrs. Montgomery. I’m Davian’s mother.”

  “Oh, I know who you are. Has he been found?”

  “No, Phoenix, unfortunately he hasn’t, but I was calling in hopes of speaking to you in person.”

  “Sure,” he says happily, or that’s what he sounds like. “I’m not at home. I’m hanging out with some friends at Arcade Ball.”

  “How long will you be there?”

  “Probably until around eleven.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “If you don’t see me right away, I’ll be in laser tag. You can just wait for me outside.”

  “Thank you, Phoenix.”

  “No problem, Mrs. M.”

  I gather my purse and dump my cell and Davian’s cell inside. I’m nearly halfway across the library when I realize I haven’t told Kristina I was leaving. I rush back to the kitchen. She has on her headphones, watching a television show on her computer tablet while leaning on the kitchen counter. The twins are sitting in the nook, nose deep and chomping on their chicken nuggets. I pull the headphones off of her ears, and she turns on me like I’ve just committed the biggest sin of all time.

  “Watch your brother and sister,” I say to her.

  “Okay,” she responds with confusion.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Don’t let anyone in.”

  She stands up as I go to the entrance to the great hall. “Are you going to see Dad?”

  “No, just watch your brother and sister.” I point at her to ensure she hears me loud and clear.

  “I will, Mom.”

  I’m running to the library. I stop short, realizing that there’s no police officer at the desk. No laptop, no sign that a cop was ever there. Did the police pull the person monitoring our phone? I don’t have time to find out right now. I have a more pressing matter. Getting to Phoenix is all I can think about.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Arcade Ball is a summertime family playground near the banks of the Savannah River. It has arcades, games, roller rink, laser tag, and a racing derby outside. During the summer it’s a haven for all kids of all ages, and it stays busy. I’m not a fan of that place. The noise is ungodly. There are usually kids running around
everywhere, and there’s the nonstop smell of greasy pizza and burgers. All of my kids love that place for different reasons. Davian is into driving the mock racecars outside. Kristina plays video games so she can get as many tickets as humanly possible only to get a tiny toy that she’ll never touch or look at again. Kale and Janae will do quiz games until they’re bored, and it doesn’t take long. They have no interest in collecting tickets or winning toys.

  Even at seven in the evening, Arcade Ball is full. Most are teenagers, and they’re running around like banshees. I make my way over to the laser tag waiting area, dodging rowdy kids and flying glow-in-the-dark balls. When I reach the black carpeted, purple walled waiting area, I’m a little overwhelmed by all the activity. I can’t seem to focus on any one person. Smiles, laughter, talking all intermingled. Faces of all races, but not one seem to fit Phoenix Snow. I begin to wonder if Davian is among them. He wouldn’t. I’m thinking crazy.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn around to see Phoenix Snow. His hair is in a Mohawk, but its lime green. His eyes are bright green, too. He has lime green suspenders, a bowtie, shorts, and socks. His shirt and tennis shoes are jet black. I’m a little taken aback. Why is he dressed like that? Phoenix signals for me to follow him. I look at my surroundings, wondering if I should, but then I think of Davian. Phoenix is really harmless, but he’s been known to dress and do odd things. Still, I let him lead me back outside to the warm, heavy air of the late summer day. I must speak to Phoenix about my son regardless of what he looks like.

  “Thought you might want to talk away from the noise,” he says.

  “Thank you, Phoenix.”

  “No problem,” he says casually. “What can I do for you?”

  I stare at him, trying to look past all the loud lime green. He doesn’t seem to be phased by my staring. I have to let his appearance go. Finally, I ask, “Have you been speaking to Davian up until the morning he was taken?”