The Scammer(28)

Everyone rushes to see the fight, the DJ on the mic trying to calm the party down. Legacy holds back Loren, seeming transfixed.

Devonte suddenly springs into action, crossing the room. He ropes an arm around Vanessa, lifting her as if she’s light as a feather. This is the most attention I’ve ever seen him give his sister. The fastest I’ve seen him move. He’s stronger than I imagined him to be.

As more people gather to watch, Nick strolls over to me, grinning.

“What are you doing back here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

I scoff. “Yeah, I bet.”

“Well, what’s a party without a little . . . punch?”

A laugh escapes my lips. “Oh brother.”

Nick looks over as the fight dies down, the crowd still circling. “That girl’s mouth wrote a check her ass can’t cash.”

I gape at him, stunned.

“What?”

“My grandma used to say that. And she was the oldest woman from the south that I knew. Where are you from?”

Nick runs his fingers through his hair. “Hey, who’s that guy you were talking to?” he asks, ignoring the question.

I didn’t think anyone noticed Devonte or maybe I was so busy being lost in him. “Why do you want to know? Jealous?”

Nick laughs. “No. I’ve seen him around. He’s a bit old for you, right?”

“Shut up,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.

Nick tips his nose down, grabs the cup in my hand, and takes a sip, licking his lips.

“Mmm. Thanks for the drink. I was thirsty.”

And with that, he walks off. I shake my head.

That boy is trouble.

Loren pushes her way to me, the music picking back up.

“What was that about?” I ask.

She shrugs, pouring herself a cup of cranberry juice. “That girl used to date Kareem, I guess. She was trying to . . . tell him to leave Vanessa.”

“Why? She doesn’t even know her.”

Loren sighs. “Yeah. But she’s met Devonte.”

I notice the slight reservation in Loren’s tone. Maybe Devonte has a reputation around campus that I’m unaware of. They couldn’t know him the way we do, of course. In the corner, Devonte and Vanessa are arguing, Kareem standing by awkwardly, eyes toggling between them while Kerry makes her way to our spot in the kitchen.

“Damnnnn. I wasn’t expecting Vanessa to throw hands like that. She’s a beast. Who knew!”

Vanessa’s eyes are cold, unrecognizable, violent, still staring at her prey.

After a few people lighten the mood with some TikTok dances and ’90s R&B sing-alongs, the party is nearly back to normal, more people piling in. If this was a club, the place would be at capacity. Loren, Kerry, and I hold down our spot, gossiping about ratchetness happening in the other dorms. Pranks, love triangles, daily midnight fire alarms. I can’t help but crack up at all the shenanigans.

Devonte continues to whisper in Vanessa’s ear, soothing and taming her, like a coach with an unhinged boxer. He rubs her arm one last time and turns, eyes landing on me. His mission is clear. He hasn’t forgotten he wants me alone. Maybe the same way he’s been alone with Kammy. My stomach plummets at the thought.

“Going to the bathroom,” I spit out to no one in particular, and slip toward the back, before he has a chance to make a move.

Heart racing, I rush down the hall, bumping right into Mercy.

“Hey!” I say, glancing behind me, wondering if Devonte will follow. Something tells me he doesn’t trust me the way I’m supposed to trust him. I know what Loren and Vanessa said, but him and Kammy together is unsettling and . . . weird. Whatever counseling he’s giving, I’m not ready for. Don’t think I’ll ever be ready for.

“Girl, what was I thinking coming out tonight,” Mercy says, fanning herself. “I have a whole paper due on Monday that I haven’t even started. And it’s crazy hot in here. I’m about to dip.”

“Same,” I say, letting out a relieved laugh. “Plus, I don’t want to sweat out my hair.”

“Me too, girl! I still haven’t found a hairstylist I trust down here.”

“OMG! Me either.”

We cackle and it feels good to talk to someone about something normal. Vanessa’s, Loren’s, and Kammy’s chats have been hijacked by Devonte’s sessions. He has us reading so many different books, I barely have time to fit actual schoolwork in. Maybe Mercy can be another outlet, another friend I can rely on. But the thought instantly makes me feel like I’m cheating on my girls.

Brianna runs up to us. “Hey, y’all. Do you know where they put all the coats? The cops are probably gonna show up any minute. There’s too many of us up in here.”

“Think they in the bedroom over here,” Mercy says. “I just about opened every damn door looking for the bathroom.”

Brianna swats at the wall, clicking on the light to a large master bedroom, with a sliding glass door leading to a patio facing the parking lot, and a four-poster bed, a mountain of jackets piled on top.

Brianna groans. “I knew I shouldn’t have given that girl my coat.”

Mercy climbs onto the bed, combing through the jackets, until something moves beneath them, like a worm under dirt, and she scrambles off.