The Scammer(10)

Kammy sucks her teeth. “Hmp. Better not.”

The weather has finally started to cool, fall close to joining us for our first semester at Frazier. We walk down the hill, toward the Rock, arms linked. Mostly to keep Loren on her feet. I don’t think I can stomach seeing her faint again.

“Anyway, the café wasn’t the worst tonight.” Loren brightens, trying her best to change the subject. “At least there were veggies.”

Kammy huffs. “I only ate there for you.”

I laugh. “Kam, the food isn’t that bad.”

Kammy sucks her teeth. “That chicken could’ve lit a forest fire it was so dry. I’m mad I prayed over it. And I know you ain’t talking, you barely ate!”

Loren and I crack up. Kammy is a bona fide picky eater, which makes sense given she’s the cook in her family. Loren mostly eats for sustenance. I have a feeling she isn’t used to food being this readily available to her all the time. And me, well I guess food and I have always been acquaintances rather than lovers.

Screaming sirens pierce the air as four police cars fly by, weaving through the busy street. We cross the road, watching their lights dim in the distance.

“They must be heading to the protest,” Kammy mumbles. “I’ve seen a few on the news.”

We walk through the lobby of Rock Hall, everyone waving and making plans for later. No one seems too overly worried about the protest. We ride the elevator up and I slip my key into the suite door, stopping short at the man sitting on our sofa.

“Uh. Hello?”

Loren and Kammy gather beside me, defensively.

“Who are you?” Loren snaps with a wobbly voice.

He slowly stands and we all take a step back.

Vanessa runs out of her room, beaming. “Hey girls! This is my brother, Devonte. I know! We don’t look alike. Same mom, different dads, you know how it goes.”

Devonte takes us in one by one. When his eyes land on me, I flinch, as if hit by a static shock. He’s much taller than I thought he’d be. Thin, but muscular, with veins raised a touch beneath brown butter skin. His long locs cascade down the side of his face. He has dimples, which bring a youthfulness to his demeanor. But his dark shiny eyes hold a unique power.

Above all . . . he smells amazing.

Kammy and Loren stand dumbstruck. None of us were prepared for this type of Greek god–like man.

“Hey,” Kammy utters, then shakes her head, as if waking up from a nap. “Welcome! Would you like a drink? We got it all.”

“No thanks, sis. I don’t drink,” he says, with a light wave of his hand.

“Oh. Okay. My bad.”

“Nothing to be sorry about at all, love.”

Kammy just about clutches her pearls, taken aback by his smooth baritone voice. The way his tongue moves when he says “love” is mesmerizing.

“Uh, hi,” Loren lets out with a small choke. “What’s up?”

Vanessa straightens, her face turning serious. “Lo, you okay?”

“Yeah I’m . . .”

Loren sways and before I can yelp, Devonte swoops in, scooping her up into his arms, effortlessly.

Kammy stumbles back with a “Whoa.”

Vanessa runs across the room petting Loren’s hair and forehead. “What happened!”

Kammy gives a recap as Devonte struts over to the sofa, placing her down like a baby in her crib.

“Yo, Ness, pass me my bag,” he says.

Vanessa rushes into her room, procuring his satchel.

“Vanessa said y’all might be hungry.” He motions to a bag of groceries by the kitchen. “Figure I make a little something.”

“You know how to cook?” Kammy seems both impressed and skeptical at the offer.

He grins. “I learned a thing or two.” He glances at Loren. “But for you, Queen . . . you need something a little different.”

As Vanessa and Devonte set up in the kitchen, Kammy plays bartender, mixing drinks for the rest of us. I watch Devonte boil water then add some dried herbs from his bag, never taking my eyes off the cup. He sips, approving, then carries it to Loren.

“Drink this.” He places the mug into her hands and I resist the urge to slap it away. She JUST fainted, who knows what the hell is in that tea and what it can do to her. But I have to play it cool. Plus, Loren said she wants to be seen as normal. I can appreciate that. Don’t want to come off like some helicopter mom. I try turning my attention elsewhere.

Principle number eight: Talk in terms of the other person’s interest.

“Um, so, Vanessa said you used to work in the hip-hop industry,” I say in my best friendly voice.

He lets out a low laugh returning to the stove. “Not work. I wouldn’t call it work. I was a part of creating the culture. I’m an architect.”

His deep throaty voice is intoxicating. The kind you could listen to on audiobook all day. Kammy hovers nearby, as if worried about someone being in her kitchen. I hit her with a silly face, trying to lighten her mood.

“What are you listening to now?” Loren asks from the sofa.

“Little of this, little of that. Mostly stuff that ain’t out yet. People send me tracks for feedback.”

“Even when you were in prison?” Kammy asks, and we all flash her a look. But Devonte only chuckles.