The Harlem Charade

by Natasha Tarpley

  “What the matter, Jinnie?” Halmoni asked with a concerned frown.

  Jin jumped up. “Alex has been lying to me all along. She refused to tell me anything about her family. Now I find out her dad may be part of a project that could put you out of business.” She stormed back and forth across the room.

  Halmoni stepped out and blocked her path, placing her hands on either side of Jin’s face. “Jinnie, wait a moment. You don’t know full story. Why Alex do this? You must find out before making conclusion. As for our business, that not Alex’s fault. You can’t blame the daughter for the choices of the father,” she said gently.

  Logically, what Halmoni said made sense, but even with her grandmother’s cool palms on her cheeks, Jin still couldn’t calm the angry heat flaring inside her. She felt betrayed by Alex all over again.

  After breakfast, which Jin was still too upset to eat, she grabbed the newspaper and told Halmoni she was leaving. She couldn’t wait to tell Elvin about Alex’s big secret.

  When she got to Elvin’s apartment, he flung open the door, and she promptly forgot about Alex when she heard his news.

  “My grandfather’s awake!” Elvin did a jerky dance step around the apartment, pointing his finger up in the air like John Travolta in the classic movie Saturday Night Fever.

  “That’s awesome, Elvin! Have you spoken to him?” Jin asked. Now was definitely not the time to tell him about Alex.

  Elvin shook his head. “No, but I was hoping we could go to the hospital before we head to Alex’s place,” he said, already tugging on his coat.

  At the hospital, Jin grabbed Elvin’s arm. “If anybody asks you any questions about where you’re staying while your grandfather recovers, tell them you’re staying with me and my grandparents,” she said, certain that Halmoni wouldn’t mind.

  “Thanks, Jin.” Elvin grinned.

  “Maybe I should wait outside,” Jin said as they stepped off the elevator on Elvin’s grandfather’s floor, suddenly feeling a little nervous to meet the man she’d learned so much about over the past few weeks.

  “No, I want you to meet him,” Elvin insisted, and dragged her into the room.

  Jacob Morrow sat upright in bed, looking as though he’d just woken up from a short nap, rather than a coma. “Elvin,” he said, and opened his arms wide.

  Elvin ran to him, and the two shared a long, tearful hug. Jin hung back near the door, until Elvin, wiping his eyes, called her over.

  “I made a couple friends while you were asleep. They’ve been helping me to figure out what happened to you. This is Jin. You’ll meet Alex later,” Elvin said.

  Jacob squinted at her. “From the bodega, right? I know your grandparents from the neighborhood. We go back a long way.” He opened his arms, and Jin leaned in for an awkward hug. “Thank you for taking care of my grandson.”

  “No problem.” Jin blushed. “Now, I really am going to wait outside and give you two some privacy.” She slipped out the door, softly pulling it closed behind her.

  Jin hung out in the hallway and started on her history homework. An outline and summary of their project was due the next day, and Jin felt a fresh wave of annoyance that Alex wasn’t there to help.

  Close to noon, Jin knocked and cracked open the door. Elvin had pulled his chair next to Jacob, his elbows resting on the bed. “It’s time for our meeting with Alex,” she told him.

  Elvin looked disappointed to have to leave. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised. He stood up and walked toward the door. “But before we go, I have one more question. Why were you at the community garden that night?”

  Jacob sighed. “A few days before the attack, I’d seen a bunch of people hanging out who’d never been there before. It was like they were looking for something. I thought I should keep an extra eye out, so even though the garden is one of the stops on my regular neighborhood patrol route, I decided to swing by a second time that night.”

  Jin tapped her chin. “I just remembered something those guys said at the construction site. The garden was on Markum’s list. He wanted to demolish it to make room for Harlem World. No one knew about the painting until Jarvis discovered it,” she said.

  “Did you know it was there?” Elvin asked his grandfather.

  Jacob looked away. “Yes, I knew,” he sighed. “I thought that whoever was canvassing the garden knew, too. That’s why I got you the goat. This neighborhood means something to people, and I wanted it to mean something to you, too. We’re a stubborn bunch here, but we protect the things we love. I thought once we got to know each other a little better, I’d show you all the treasures Harlem has to offer. But I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea anymore.”

  Elvin felt confused. He wasn’t certain what his grandfather was telling him. “So are there more of Henriette’s paintings? And can you help us find them?” he asked.

  Jacob shook his head. “After I was attacked, the last thoughts I had before I lost consciousness were of you and your mother. Now that I have a second chance, I want to make amends. I want to make a home and a family for the both of you. Promise me that you’ll let this whole business with the paintings go, Elvin. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I really like it here, too. And I’ll be careful,” was all Elvin said. He reached into his grandfather’s coat pocket and touched the Invisibles paperback that he’d brought along to show Jin and Alex what he’d discovered about the poems inside. Suddenly, all the pieces clicked. How had he not figured it out sooner? All the goat references, his grandfather’s nickname, the goat on the back cover. His grandfather had written it! He was the author of The Life of the Invisibles. “Besides”—Elvin winked at his grandfather—“I have a really great guide.”

  Jacob sighed and nodded. “My coat looks good on you,” he said as Elvin and Jin slipped out the door.

  “I’m so glad your grandfather’s okay,” Jin said once they were outside the hospital and on their way to Alex’s. “Did he say when he was coming home?”

  “He doesn’t know yet, but I hope it’s soon. I’m looking forward to getting to know him. He’s a pretty cool guy,” Elvin said. His feelings about his grandfather were all over the place, like a messy room in his brain. He didn’t know what to think about all the secrets his mother had kept about the past, or what their family might be like in the future, now that he’d connected with his grandfather. He was going to need some time to sort everything out—after they found the paintings.

  “So who’s your guide to Harlem?” Jin asked as they walked. “Rad?”

  “Not who. What. I just figured out my grandfather wrote that book Dr. Whitmore gave me. But I’ll wait to talk about it until we’re all together.”

  “The Life of the Invisibles? Are you serious? Did he just come out and tell you that he wrote it?” Jin asked, impressed.

  “It doesn’t seem like anyone in my family comes right out and says anything,” Elvin said. “But I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

  Alex’s family lived only a few blocks away in a stately four-story brownstone on a small street, overlooking Marcus Garvey Park.

  “Nice house.” Elvin whistled, starting up the stairs. Jin grabbed his arm.

  “Before we go in, there’s something you should see.” She showed him the newspaper article about Alex’s dad and Councilman Markum.

  Elvin glanced at it quickly, but then did a double take. “Whoa, is that Alex? She looks like … she looks like a girl?”

  “Ahem. Girls look all kinds of ways.”

  “But she looks really … pretty.” Elvin still couldn’t believe Alex’s transformation.

  “That’s not the point!” Jin said louder than she meant to. “The point is Alex lied to us! How can someone just conveniently never mention that their dad is some multigazillionaire developer?”

  “She didn’t exactly lie … ”

  “Yeah, she did! Take your apartment, for example. She told us that her dad worked for the company that owned the building, but he actually owns the building and the ent
ire company!”

  Elvin shrugged. “Maybe she just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

  “You would take her side.”

  “I’m not taking—”

  “Come on, we’re late,” Jin cut him off, and marched up the steps to the front door.

  When she pressed the doorbell, she could hear the sound of the chimes echoing through the building.

  “Must be huge,” Elvin speculated. Jin didn’t say anything. A few seconds later, a woman wearing tailored black pants and a cream-colored cashmere sweater, and carrying an iPad answered the door.

  “Yes?” She looked at them suspiciously.

  “Are you Alex’s mom?” Elvin asked.

  “No, I’m Mrs. Bennett, the Roebuck house manager.” She swiped her tablet. “Ah, yes. You must be Miss Roebuck’s twelve o’clock. I’ll inform her of your arrival.” She ushered them inside, just as Alex came rushing down the stairs.

  “Hey, guys!” she said.

  “Hey,” Elvin answered. Jin just nodded curtly.

  “Welcome to mi casa. Let’s sit in the dining room.” Alex led them into a large room with a long wooden table, big enough to seat at least twenty people. Alex pressed a button on a nearby wall, and then began speaking directly into the wall.

  “We’re ready, chef,” she said, and turned to Elvin and Jin. “I’m not totally crazy; the intercom’s built into the wall,” she explained as she plopped into a cushioned chair at one end of the table. “I asked the chef to make us some of his famous chocolate chip cookies. You’re going to love them. Have a seat.” Elvin slid into the chair beside her, but Jin remained standing.

  “I won’t be staying long,” she said.

  A worried look crept across Alex’s face. “Why? What’s up?”

  “Don’t you know? Or is that a secret, too?” Jin tossed the newspaper on the table. Alex sighed.

  “This wasn’t how I wanted it to come out, but I guess, in some ways, it’s a good thing that article was published. I invited you two here so that I could finally tell you—well, show you—who I really am.”

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Jin rolled her eyes, then sighed. “I hate secrets. Secrets mean you never really know a person; you never know the whole truth about them. They’re always going to be hiding something.”

  “Yeah, secrets suck,” Elvin agreed. “They kept me from my grandfather for pretty much my whole life.”

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Jin said, and started toward the door.

  “You’re leaving?” Alex ran after her. “You’re seriously walking out again?”

  “I don’t want to be friends with someone I can’t trust,” Jin said. “Why do you pretend to be something you’re not? I mean, the way that you dress, the donated food, nobody would ever know who you really are. So why do you do it?”

  “That’s the thing. I’m not pretending,” Alex tried to explain. “I am being who I am. That girl in the newspaper, that’s the pretend girl. I hate what my parents stand for. You read the article. Councilman Markum is a sleazeball, and even though my dad hasn’t agreed to work with him on the Harlem World project yet, that doesn’t mean that he won’t. He’s done other projects that have caused people to lose their homes and their jobs. That’s why I volunteer and try to get people to donate to the needy. It may not be much, but I want to do what I can to help people, not make money off their misery. I guess I dress the way I do so that I can be invisible to the wrong people, like my parents and their friends, but visible to the people who matter, like my friends, who I hope can see the real me. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you the truth right away. I wanted to wait for the right time. But you can’t just leave. What about Elvin? If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll stop trying to find the paintings.”

  “No, I’ll leave!” Elvin shouted. Jin and Alex whirled around to face him. “You guys just don’t get it. I’m the one whose family was attacked. I’m the one who’s been on my own in a strange city. This is my life, not some stupid game.”

  “I’m sorry, Elvin. That was really awful of me,” Jin apologized.

  “Me too, Elvin.” Alex’s eyes fell to the floor.

  “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. My grandfather’s awake and getting stronger. We pretty much know who attacked him. There’s no point in continuing this thing. As soon as my mom gets well enough, I’ll be going back to California.”

  “California?” Alex’s head snapped up. “What about the paintings?”

  “Maybe my grandfather was right. We should forget about the paintings. Let the past stay in the past.”

  The words were sharp tiny pinpricks, which made Jin’s heart deflate like a balloon slowly losing air. “But this isn’t just about us anymore,” she said, ashamed now of her own selfishness.

  “Yeah, we owe it to the people of Harlem to see this thing through. We can’t let Markum get his hands on those paintings. If he does, his project is sure to be approved and it’ll destroy the entire community,” Alex added.

  Elvin ran his hands through his deadlocks. “You’re right,” he said. “And we owe it to the Invisible 7, too. And to my grandfather.”

  “We’ll finish what we started, right?” Alex said, determined. She looked from Jin to Elvin, who both nodded in agreement.

  They wandered back into the dining room and sat down at the table, where the chef had set out a huge plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, and milk served in fancy crystal goblets.

  After inhaling a few cookies, Jin took out her notebook. “So this might be a good time to catch up. A lot has happened since we last met up. Who wants to go first?”

  “I will!” Elvin volunteered. “Yesterday, when I went to the park, I saw T.J. and realized he was the guy who messed with Jarvis Monroe, so I decided to follow him. He went to Councilman Markum’s campaign office. Turns out he’s working with Markum, Museum Guy, whose name is Pugnacio, by the way, and this man.” He took out the photo that Isabel had given him and pointed to the old man with the salt-and-pepper Afro and fancy boots. “He’s also the person who was with Pugnacio at the construction site. He says that when Henriette vandalized those paintings she pretty much ruined his life. Seems like he wants them as some kind of payback.”

  Next Jin turned to Alex, who was pacing around the table.

  “Last night, my parents dragged me to a fundraiser for Markum. Sorry I didn’t tell you guys, but that’s my last secret—I promise. Anyway, I overheard a conversation between Markum and none other than our good friend, Verta Mae Sneed. Contrary to popular opinion, Dr. Sneed is not working with Markum. In fact, she vowed to do everything she could to shut down his whole Harlem World operation.”

  “That still doesn’t rule out the possibility that she wants the paintings for herself,” Elvin added.

  “True.” Alex nodded and continued. “Later, I overheard Markum talking to Pugnacio—this guy really gets around. Pugnacio definitely wants to find the paintings because Markum has promised him a really cushy job as head of the new art museum in Harlem World if he turns them over to him.”

  “And if their art museum opens, it’ll likely replace the Studio Museum and put Verta Mae out of a job,” Jin noted. “But why does Markum want the paintings so badly anyway?”

  “To make Harlem World more legit. If he can promise to display the long-lost treasures of a Harlem great, his project will get the green light for sure.” Alex rolled her eyes and continued. “T.J. and that old man from the construction site were both there, too. Turns out, in addition to being a member of the Invisible 7, the old guy is also Pugnacio’s dad, and he thinks that if they find the paintings Markum is going to make him the head of the Harlem World art museum. And T.J. thinks that Markum will give him his own graffiti gallery.”

  “So Pugnacio is playing his own father. That’s low,” Jin said.

  “But not as low as what Markum has planned for Dr. Sneed. He not only wants her gone from the museum, I think he wants her gone, period. Pugnaci
o said that he would ‘handle it.’ What if they hurt her? We need to go and warn her,” Alex said, glancing at her phone. “And we can still make it to the museum before it closes.”

  When they got to the Studio Museum, Alex, Jin, and Elvin marched right past the lobby receptionist straight to Dr. Sneed’s office. She was sitting behind her huge desk but jumped to her feet when they entered the room. “I take it by your presence here today that you have decided to continue the pursuit for the paintings, against my earlier warnings and advice,” Verta Mae said, fixing them in her pitiless gaze.

  Undeterred, Alex marched right up to the desk. “You’re right, and we’ve got a lot of questions. We expect you to give us some answers,” she demanded.

  “I have nothing more to say on the matter.” Verta Mae pursed her lips. “I suggest you leave my office now, before I call security.”

  Jin, Alex, and Elvin exchanged glances, but held their ground.

  “Very well.” Verta Mae reached for the phone.

  “You’re in danger! We’re here to warn you,” Jin blurted out.

  After pausing for a beat, Verta Mae calmly withdrew her hand from the phone and sat down. Alex, Jin, and Elvin sat then, too, in the chairs opposite her desk.

  Alex leaned forward. “Now that we have your attention, we need to know—are you or are you not after the paintings? Maybe you want to make a little profit off of them yourself?” she prodded.

  “Of course not! I—I only want what’s best for the art and for Harlem.” For once, Verta Mae seemed flustered.

  “I’m not sure that Henriette Drummond would agree, especially since you practically sold her and the entire Invisible 7 out after the exhibit at the Met.” Alex leaned back confidently in her chair.

  “Henriette was wrong!” Verta Mae shouted. “And I—I—” Verta Mae stopped to collect herself. “Why are you here? What is it that you want exactly?” she asked icily.