by Arthurs, Nia
Dad wasn’t around. Thankfully.
My footsteps thundered against the stairs as I made a mad dash for my bedroom. I slipped inside and locked the door, leaning against it and taking a moment to catch my breath.
“Whoa, did you run here?”
I yelped and glanced around, skittering back when I found Marissa sitting on the edge of my bed. She wore a silky blue shirt and a black mini-skirt. The book in her hands and the guitar magazines scattered on the floor was evidence she’d made herself comfortable.
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?”
“Did you break into my house?” I hissed.
She laughed. “That’s funny.”
“Don’t come any closer,” I yelled when she stood and stepped toward me. “I don’t know why you’re here or what you’re doing, but you need to leave. Now.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to disappoint your mother.” Marissa offered a toothy grin. “She invited me to dinner.”
My jaw went slack.
“What are you waiting for?” Her eyes slid lazily over my body. When she was through with her perusal, she checked her watch. “You should get changed. Your mom said the guests would be here in fifteen minutes.”
I wanted Marissa out of my house and out of my bedroom, but if Mom had invited her then my hands were tied. With gritted teeth, I opened my door and gestured to it. “Get out. I need to change.”
She glided toward me and ran her fingers down my shoulder. “Come on, James. When have you ever been shy taking your clothes off around me?”
“Marissa,” I grabbed her wrist, “enough.”
Her eyes sharpened. “Suit yourself.” She pointed her gaze to the hand I had captured. I released it and she sashayed to the door. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
I gritted my teeth and got dressed. These stupid dinners were my least favorite things, but now that Marissa was here, I wanted to ditch even more.
Thinking of Mom, I forced myself to head downstairs. My parents were greeting Rose and Asher in the living room. Marissa was in the dining room, straightening the silverware. She looked pretty, elegant. Like she belonged.
I was sure both my parents would approve of her. She came from a wealthy family, was a good student, and was heading to a fancy college soon.
But she wasn’t Monique.
I leaned toward Marissa and warned in a low voice, “We’re not making the announcement tonight.”
“Who said we were?” she whispered back. “I just wanted to meet my child’s grandparents.”
I frowned.
She grinned evilly.
My parents and their friends entered the kitchen. Like actors on a stage, Marissa and I brightened and greeted them with smiles and air kisses. Rose went on and on about how pretty Marissa was and how ‘cute’ we looked together.
My smile cracked but remained in place. I’d acted the part of the perfect son for so many years that it came easily now.
Marissa’s acting chops weren’t too bad either. She played the dutiful girlfriend and left out any mention of our baby, even when Rose prattled on about her own journey to motherhood.
I couldn’t help glancing over at Marissa as Rose described her experiences with morning sickness and discomfort. As far as I knew, Marissa hadn’t complained of either. Or maybe she had. I didn’t remember.
“What are you staring at?” Marissa whispered.
I straightened. “Nothing.”
She ducked her head, a pleased smile flirting with her lips.
I promised myself I would pay more attention. Every time I asked her how she was, Marissa said ‘fine’. Obviously, I wasn’t asking the right questions. Since Marissa was carrying my kid, I figured I should do better.
Dinner went off without a hitch, but Rose and Asher left earlier than usual due to her pregnancy.
“Natasha,” Rose beamed at my mother as she stood in the doorway, “this was fantastic. As always.”
“You’re welcome any time,” Mom said, earrings dancing.
“Marissa,” Rose reached out and grabbed her hands, “keep a good eye on that one so no other girl steals him away.”
“Oh, I will,” Marissa said smugly.
The adults laughed.
I tried not to glower at the floor.
“See you,” Dad said, slapping Asher’s back.
They waved and left.
Dad turned to Marissa, his gaze kind and charming—the face he wore around everyone but us. “It was nice meeting you. Please send your mother my regards.”
“Of course. Thank you for the wonderful meal.”
“Yeah.” I opened the door. “Bye now.”
“James Sawyer!” Mom arched an eyebrow. “Be a gentleman and walk Marissa to her car.”
“Mom, what could possibly happen to her between here and the driveway?”
She shoved me in the back. “Stop mouthing and go.”
“It’s okay.” Marissa giggled. “I’ll be fine.” Leaning over, she planted a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you at school on Monday. Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer.”
I barely restrained the impulse to scrape her touch from my cheek.
Marissa left and Dad grunted, a sound he usually made when he wanted to say something profound. “I like her.”
“So do I.” Mom clasped her hands together. “But what happened to Monique?”
“Who’s Monique?” Dad asked.
“She’s…”
“James’s crush,” Mom explained.
“If you knew that, why’d you let Marissa in?” I whined.
“She said you had a project you were working on together. Was I supposed to leave her on the stoop?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“Is there something going on?” Dad demanded. “Isn’t Marissa your girlfriend?”
“I’m not dating Marissa. Not now. Not ever.”
Dad frowned. “So you’re dating this Monique girl then?”
I kept quiet.
Mom stepped in, laughing it off. “Darius, leave the boy alone. He’s young and handsome. Plenty of girls will be after him.”
“Youth is not an excuse. Even at that age, I was smart enough not to get caught.” Dad turned to me with a grunt. “Don’t do anything stupid and use protection at all times. The press would have a field day if they heard my son got a girl pregnant in high school.”
Well, Dad, you’re in for a shocker.
“Go to bed.” Mom eyed me. “It’s been a long day.”
They walked up the stairs and left me in the living room alone. I shot a quick glance their way to make sure they were out of earshot, then I walked to the sofa and grabbed my cell phone.
I promised Monique I would call her. It was late, but maybe she was still up.
I dialed her number.
She didn’t answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Comforting myself with the excuse that she was probably asleep, I forced myself to go to bed.
The next morning, I woke early, got dressed and headed to Monique’s place. She still wasn’t picking up the phone, but I figured I’d take a page out of Marissa’s book and show up unannounced.
I knocked on the apartment door and stepped back when I heard the lock click. The door opened on a creak and Mr. Hughes poked his head out.
“Good morning.”
“James, right?” His eyes twinkled in welcome, but I saw the worry lines carved into his brown forehead. He waved me forward. “Come in, come in.”
I stepped inside.
Their apartment was small and cluttered. The sofas bore scuffs and stains that my mother would never tolerate for more than a day. An old entertainment center struggled to bear the weight of a flat screen television.
I could see into the kitchen from the living room, and the appliances nearly frightened me. They weren’t stainless steel. Didn’t everyone own stainless steel refrigerator
s?
“Monique’s still asleep,” Mr. Hughes said, cutting my inspection short.
“Oh, that’s okay. I was just worried about her. And you.”
He sank into the sofa, his gaze on the floor. “The deadline’s today. Toya’s already called around and a few friends have agreed to lend us money. We’ll try to scrounge up cash from our accounts, but I doubt we’ll get much.”
I wanted to offer my money so badly that the words almost rolled off my tongue, but I remembered how offended and angry Monique got yesterday when I tried that. If it meant my death, I’d still do anything I could to help her but I also wanted to respect her wishes.
“I was thinking, Mr. Hughes, is there any way you could get an extension?”
He chuckled. “You don’t understand, James. This guy isn’t someone that negotiates.”
“Can we at least try?”
His eyebrow arched. “What do you suggest?”
“You said his name was Orlando Goya?”
Mr. Hughes nodded.
“I’m guessing he’s the type who’d like to stay out of the spotlight. We could use that against him. In exchange for settling out of court, Mr. Goya could give us an extension.”
“It might work.” Mr. Hughes grabbed his cell phone. “It’s better than nothing.”
I moved closer to listen to the cell phone ring.
The line clicked.
An oily voice said, “Hello.”
“I need to speak to your boss.” Mr. Hughes cleared his throat and nervously added, “I’m Frederick Hughes.”
“One moment.”
Pure silence.
A rustling sounded over the line and another, deeper and darker voice said, “Hughes, you got my money?”
I didn’t need to see Mr. Goya to sense that we were in way over our heads. From his voice alone, I could tell he was a man who issued commands and expected them to be followed. No excuses.
My skin itched.
I had a bad feeling about this.
“Mr. Hughes!” I whispered.
Monique’s father ignored me. His hand trembled and he gripped the phone tightly. “You scum, you sent men after my daughter? Like she has anything to do with this? You crossed a line, Goya, and I’m not going to stop until you and your men are behind bars.”
I flinched.
Goya laughed so hard I heard it from the sofa. Suddenly he stopped and hissed, “You wanna die?”
Hugh’s eyes crashed into mine. “W-what? No. I’m offering a deal. If you agree to give me an extension, I’ll keep quiet.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”
“Uh…”
“My money better be in my hands tonight or you and your precious daughter will die.”
The phone dropped out of Mr. Hugh’s grip. “He hung up.”
I stared at him, dread pouring over my body from the top of my head to my feet.
“He threatened to kill Monique if I don’t bring the money. What am I going to do?”
“Dad?” Monique’s voice sounded behind me. She stepped into the room, dressed in a tank top and shorts. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “James?”
I couldn’t meet her gaze.
My attempt to help her family had backfired. If we didn’t pay off her dad’s debt, Monique would die.
23
Dia De Los Muertos
Monique
“You did what?” I screamed at Dad as he cowered on the couch.
He pointed to James. “It was his idea!”
“It kind of was—”
“Don’t say a word,” I growled. Then I whirled on my father. “Why would you provoke a mobster? Do you think we’re any threat to him and his thugs? He wouldn’t have gotten to where he is if a little assault charge scared him.”
“In our defense,” James said, ignoring my earlier warning to keep quiet, “it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Well, it wasn’t. Can we all agree on that?”
James stood. “I feel awful. Since things turned out like this, it’s only right that I—”
“Don’t you dare offer me money right now.”
James clamped his lips shut.
Dad simpered. “Momo, honey, we shouldn’t be turning any help down in this situation.”
“You’re the one who got us into this situation.”
Dad clamped his mouth together.
“We’ll figure this out together without begging my boy—” I cleared my throat as my heart lurched. James and I hadn’t made anything official and there was still the mess with Marissa to figure out. I couldn’t jump the gun. “I mean James. We’re not asking James to save us.”
His eyes glinting, James approached me. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing.” I shifted nervously. “Stop looking at me like that. I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to say boyfriend.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
I cleared my throat. “Can we discuss this later? My life is being threatened here.”
“Right.” He straightened his shoulders. “So why don’t we go to the police? Maybe they can stop him?”
“Of course. There’s no way any of the cops could be dirty and go report us to Goya.”
“Dad, you can drop the sarcasm. He’s only trying to help.”
“Look,” Dad shot a glance toward the bedroom where my mom was still sleeping, “whatever we do, we have to figure it out before Toya wakes up. If she finds out I put a target on our daughter’s back, I won’t have to wait for this guy to kill me.”
That much was true.
“So our biggest problem here is money.” James scrubbed his chin.
“That we don’t have,” Dad reminded. “Tito’s come up with his half though. Maybe we can turn that in to Goya and hope he has mercy on us. He’ll never get his money back if we’re dead.”
James frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t want to gamble with Monique’s life like that. Or yours, sir.”
“It’s the only path we’ve got,” I said, agreeing with my dad. “If Goya doesn’t like it, then we take our chances with the police.”
“It’s too risky. What if something happens to you?”
“I don’t care. If I’m dead I wouldn’t have to deal with this mess anymore.”
James stalked closer. “Don’t joke like that.”
“Who said I was joking?”
“Ehem.” Dad rose and glanced between the two of us. “Monique, is there something you want to tell me?”
I frowned. “Like what?”
He stared pointedly at James.
“He’s just a friend, Dad.”
“I’ve got eyes, honey. That’s not going to work with me.”
“It’s true. Right, James?”
James said nothing.
Seriously, the guy was no help.
I grabbed James’s hand and led him along. “Dad, I need to talk to my friend for a minute. Can you excuse me?”
“Leave the door open!”
“Got it!”
James shook my hold. I stopped halfway to my room and glanced over my shoulder at him. He reached out and took my hand again, this time sliding our fingers together.
He smirked. “Lead the way.”
“Do you think this is funny? I might die tonight.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“How are you so confident?”
“If Goya and his boys play hardball, I’ll pay them anything they want. No questions asked. I’m only staying still because you asked me to, but if it comes down to saving your pride or your life, I’ll go with your life.”
“Jerk.”
He laughed and brought my knuckles to his lips to press a kiss there. Then he led me forward. “Come on. I want to see where you sleep.”
“Creep.”
James pulled me into my room and whirled me around, backing me against the wall. He swiftly closed the distance, stari
ng at me with his gorgeous brown eyes. “That pretty mouth shouldn’t use such bad words. Not with me.”
“What do you want me to say then?” I asked, my heartbeat picking up.
James glanced at the ceiling, pretending to think. “How about ‘you’re handsome, James’, ‘you’re my hero, James’.”
“You wish.”
“Say it.”
“Never.”
He leaned in, stopping a breath from my lips. My heart throbbed so hard I thought it would explode. Our eyes locked. Lingered. Our breaths mingled. Tingles started from the tips of my toes and spread to my head.
James held me spell-bound and, now that I knew I probably had less than twenty-four hours to live, I didn’t care about anything else.
Not Marissa who was pregnant with his baby.
Not my own insecurities about dating a rich guy with a thousand girls clamoring for his attention.
All that mattered was this moment, those brown eyes, and my quaking heart.
“Last warning,” James said, his voice husky.
I lifted my chin and declared, “Do your worst.”
He swooped down but, before I could taste his lips, my dad yelled from the living room, “Hey, you two! It’s too quiet in there!”
James pulled back.
I moaned in embarrassment and hid my head in his chest as it rumbled with laughter.
He nudged me back. “Go change.”
“Why?”
“You’re too sexy in those pants.”
I laughed, staring at my faded and totally unflattering sleeping shorts. “You have problems.”
He just grinned.
After I came back from the bathroom wearing guest-appropriate jeans and a T-shirt, I found James flipping through one of my photo albums. The bed compressed as I sat next to him and looked over his shoulders to watch along.
“You were so cute when you were a kid,” he said.
“Was I?” I stared at the huge ponytails I wore in my kindergarten pictures. “My mom was obsessed with that style. All the kids called me ‘spider legs’ because they just kind of beamed out of my head instead of lying flat.”
“Give me the names of those bullies. I’ll pay them a visit.”
I snickered.
James continued to watch my pictures and stopped at the section when I had my hair relaxed. “Why did you change your hair?”