The Scammer(36)

“Fine, but you don’t have to sleep on the damn floor,” I snap.

Legacy looks sheepish. “Um, the couch is taken.”

I glance over and there’s Kareem lying across the love seat, his bare feet dangling, but his eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Legacy helps me up.

“Please don’t tell him I fell asleep,” he begs. Him clearly being Devonte.

“I won’t. But Legacy, you should go home. Take a shower, change.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I . . . live here now.”

I shake myself awake. “What?”

“Yeah, me and Kareem. We’re gonna be a real family.”



* * *




After class, I head to the Malcolm Center for my Wednesday afternoon shift. I promised Nick I would help with the spring budget, to see where money can be allocated for different programming.

I walk into the office and find Nick behind his desk, alone, hand gripping his hair.

“Did you know about this?” he snaps, eyes blazing.

I stop in my tracks. “Huh?”

Nick swats at his laptop in my direction. On the screen is an email. . . .

Open letter to the Kappa Fraternity:

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Kareem X, as my slave name is no longer valid. I am a junior at Frazier University, and I am writing this letter to inform you that I am renouncing and denouncing my membership with Kappa Kappa Psi.

This organization is practicing occult witchcraft in the form of Christianity, which is exactly how slave masters controlled our enslaved ancestors. Through idolatry, manipulation, and mandatory worshiping of white gods at satanic shrines, when we all know God is a Black man. I refuse to bow to anything but our true king.

Further, I must also highlight the white infiltration that has also taken place. For a Black organization to allow our enemy to be a part of our society is a disgrace that I can no longer ignore. The enemy is clearly working among and through our sacred societies. You must stay woke and vigilant, brothers. . . .





Nick yanks back his laptop, stabbing the screen. “He goes on to write in DETAIL about our sacred rituals and ceremonies. Things no one outside of a Kappa man should know! Everyone has seen it!”

The letter was from Kareem but it screams Devonte.

My stomach grows tight. “I swear, I didn’t know anything about this.”

“Kareem moved out in the middle of the night. No one has seen him.”

I think of him on the sofa. The haunted look in his eyes, as if he was lost in his own head, searching for an exit.

“I’ve seen him hanging out with your roommate a lot. Vanessa?”

“Uh, yes. He is her boyfriend.”

“So who’s that other guy?” he asks. “The one with the locs?”

I swallow. “That’s . . . her brother.”

Nick bristles. “Her brother? Does he go here? He looks kinda old.”

“What? No, he doesn’t. He’s the healthiest man I know!”

I hear myself say the words, but I still can’t believe they came out of my mouth. Nick’s eyes widen.

“He’s family,” I go on to explain, trying to clean up my mess. “He’s just visiting. Doesn’t your family visit you?”

Nick blanches, neck growing red. “That’s not the point! Jordyn, reading this letter . . . this doesn’t sound like Kareem at all. It sounds like he’s been brainwashed. And I have a feeling that brother of Vanessa is up to it. Look at the way he lurks around campus, around you.”

“He’s not lurking. He’s welcomed. And it’s fine, I—”

“He’s a grown man hanging around campus with a bunch of college students! Doesn’t he have a job? A home? Women his own age to be with!”

“What, are you jealous that someone of his stature would want to spend his time with us?”

“Stature? I don’t even know the guy. And you don’t either!”

That’s not true, I want to scream in his face. Instead, I rub my throbbing temple.

“Look, can we focus and get back to work. I don’t know anything about Kareem or your organization, but I guess he had his reasons.”

“Fine. Sure thing,” he snaps. “Wouldn’t want you to miss curfew.”

Is he really taking his anger out on me?

He pushes the computer my way, inadvertently opening a page he was clearly reading on the university website.

“Trustee? You want to be a student trustee?”

Nick closes the page quick and clears his throat, avoiding my gaze.

I nod, impressed. “Nick, that’s actually a perfect position for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You really think so?”

“Yeah! All your programming is geared toward making positive change for students. Look how you’re obsessing over this budget, trying to squeeze water from a rock. And the town halls after the riots. You could really be a voice for students in a major way. It’s a good look.”

Nick stares at me blankly for a long moment then clears his throat. “Let’s . . . get back to work.”

I roll my eyes and slump into my seat. We work for about two hours in silence before Nick stands, stretches, and heads for the kitchenette. He returns with a small bowl that smells like heaven.