The Scammer(37)

“What’s that?” I gasp, nearly drooling.

Nick glances at his hands, walks back to the kitchen, and grabs another spoon.

“Here. Eat.”

I stare down into what looks like a stew with sausages, shrimp, kidney beans mixed in a red sauce on top of a bed of fluffy white rice. My stomach cries out but I still hesitate.

“Um, no thanks.”

“Look, just take a bite. It’s fine.”

“No.”

“You’ll like it. Just try it.”

“No thanks.”

“Just a little taste.”

“I said no! And what is that, pork sausage? Rat, cat, and dog. And white rice is full of toxins! Shrimp are nothing but bottom feeders. Don’t you know that!”

The words come tumbling out before I can stop them.

Nick blinks, shell-shocked. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I . . . I . . .” I’m about to lie when my phone pings.

Vanessa: Come home now. Devonte has an idea!





Twelve




As we all gather in the suite, Devonte holds up a printed aerial photo of a plot of land, with a large clearing and giant trees next to a pond the shape of a bitten cookie.

“This is a piece of property I own, down in Virginia,” he announces. “I’m going to build us a sanctuary. A place where people like us, free thinkers, believers, the divine . . . will thrive!”

The crowd nods excitedly, passing around the photo, approving of its beauty. When did he buy this land? How long has he had it?

“The only way to live is to make our own way. We’ll farm our own food, build our own homes. Teach our children, ’cause as Malcolm X once said, ‘Only a fool would let his enemy teach his children!’”

The room, full of familiar faces and more, nod and grunt with affirming snaps in the air.

“Look at you. Attending a college named after a white man,” he says, shaking his head. “Board members, white men. Government handouts, white men. You pay thousands of dollars to attend a school, pouring money back into white men’s hands, listening to your parents rather than listening to the cries of our communities. The white man has been manipulating you, making you doubt your roots, your own Blackness. They’re trying to rewrite history to make them look like angels rather than demons. Don’t let them miseducate you any longer. Aren’t you tired of them getting all the good jobs, stealing all the money, taking credit for the land your ancestors built, tired of them buying Grandma’s house, tired of them putting your uncles, cousins, brothers in prison? Tired of them killing us in the streets like dogs?”

A murmur takes over the room.

“Bob Marley said, ‘Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds’ and . . . Ohhhh.” He rubs his chin, a smile spreading. “Yes, that’s what we will call it.”

“Call what?” Kammy asks, hanging on to his every word.

“Our new home. We’ll call it Emancipation!”

Vanessa claps her hands.

“It’s perfect,” she breathes. “People will pilgrimage from all over. Our own mecca.”

Devonte looks at his sister with such pride. “We’ll start work on it during the new year. But we need materials, tools, supplies. . . . That’s why, brothers and sisters, it’s time that you start giving toward the cause. The more we raise, the more brothers and sisters we save.”

He looks at me and smiles. Kammy notices, her grin slowly fading.

“This is it, young stars. This is how we change the world. There is a storm coming. I can feel it, can’t you? The change. Will you help me?”

“Yes!” the room shouts.

“Will you protect me, cover me from those that will try to kill this dream?”

“Yes!”

“Then, let us all be free!”

The room feels charged on raw energy. The picture of utopia sharpening, full of color and crystal clear sound. How addicting it is to be a part of something that’s more than you.



* * *




Devonte sat us down and made us write a list of ten people we can ask for money. He then wrote the perfect script to use when calling our parents and loved ones.

I stare down at the words, struggling to figure a way out of this. No matter what, I cannot call my parents. I cannot let them in on this life. I cannot let them know what I’m up to.

Since Vanessa has no family, Loren goes first.

“Hey Ma,” Loren starts nervous, the call on speakerphone.

“Hey baby girl! We been trying to call you for days. You can’t call nobody back.”

“Oh been busy with school.”

“So busy you can’t call your ma! And your sisters been asking about you. What’s going on? How’s school?”

Devonte gives her a stern look. Loren swallows.

“Um, Ma. I need some money.”

“Oh Lord, for what now?”

“It’s the only way for me to stay in school. They miscalculated something.”

“How much do you need?”

Loren braces herself before mumbling, “Ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand? Girl, are you crazy? See, that’s why I told you to go to school in state, at least they would’ve given you some money. I ain’t got that type of cash lying around.”