The Scammer(48)

“I didn’t touch her!”

I glance up at my savior and he’s not a man at all, but a boy my age with a chubby baby face, except he’s the size of a small car.

Within seconds, Nick and two of his line brothers rush in. He takes one look at me, eyes flaring, and races across the room.

“Shit, are you okay?” he whispers, helping me to my feet. I wobble, blood rushing to my head. He gives me a once-over, pushing the hair out of my face, cupping my cheek to check for damage. The only time I’ve ever seen him this frazzled was the morning he woke up in my room.

I can’t form words so I nod in response.

It takes Nick a moment to process, as if he didn’t believe me, pulling me closer to his chest. But with one blink, his hands roll into fists as he scans the room, locking eyes with Kareem.

“What are you doing here?” Vanessa barks. Loren and Kammy are up on their feet, watching the scene unfold, unsure of what to do but also curious.

“I’m here for her,” Nick hisses, his arms shaking as he steadies me. Or maybe I’m the one shaking.

She scoffs. “I bet. Get the fuck out my room!”

“She lives here too,” Nick spits back. “The rest of you don’t!”

“Yo, you gave up your brothers, to lay hands on a female?” the big guy says to Kareem. “Sucker-ass Negro.”

Kareem doesn’t speak, only glancing at Devonte, as if waiting for approval to attack. But Devonte holds up a hand.

“Brother, can we help you with something?” Devonte asks, always starting with poised kindness. He can’t look out of sorts. It’s not good for the image he’s trying to portray.

“Ain’t nothing you can help us with, old head,” the frat brother says.

“Don’t know what you’re up to here,” Nick warns. “But people are starting to talk so you probably should just leave while you got the chance.”

Devonte doesn’t even spare him a glance, strictly keeping his eyes on his frat.

“Brother, this is a private meeting, and you’re not welcome.”

“Man, this ain’t your spot or even your campus! You may got these pussies whipped but that got nothing to do with us.”

This time, Kareem doesn’t wait for Devonte’s command. He walks right into the frat brother’s face.

“Who you talking to like that, bruh?” he shouts, finger pointing at the boy’s temple.

The boys start shoving, voices growing loud. Nick backs me up, straight into the kitchen. We slam into the fridge and I shriek. Nick steps between them, breaking up the fight.

“Yo Kent! Calm down! It’s not worth it!”

He storms back into the kitchen, scooping my book bag off the floor.

“Come on, let’s go,” he whispers, grabbing my hand, and pulls me toward the door.

“Hey! Where you going?” Devonte barks, losing his composure. The unhinged look in his eyes makes me freeze. Nick notices my hesitation, his gaze toggling between us. He pulls me closer.

“She’s getting the fuck away from you,” Nick snaps.

Devonte stares me down. “If you leave, you know you can’t come back from this.”

My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, too heavy to move.

“She doesn’t want to!” Nick retorts, swinging the door open. We fly into the hallway, Nick’s friends in tow. I sniff the air, free of oils and incense as one fact jumps above the rest.

I can’t come back?



* * *




We file out of Kent’s car in front of the Kappa house. Nick grabs my hand, and without one word, he leads me into the house and up the stairs. He quickly ushers me into a bedroom on the second floor and turns on the light.

My heart hasn’t stopped racing. Adrenaline surges through every limb, throwing me off my equilibrium. Or maybe it’s not adrenaline. Maybe it’s pure terror. The kind that can kill someone.

“Sit,” Nick orders, motions to a swivel chair, and I do what I’m told. He opens a mini fridge and offers me a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. You might be in shock or something. Sorry it’s not sparkling.”

I take a few sips, glancing around. His room is rather large and neat. The made bed sits flush against the window. Next to it, a small desk with a hutch, housing several civil rights autobiographies, and a dresser that mostly features his fraternity paraphernalia.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I realize he’s bending in front of me, searching my face.

“I think so,” I mumble.

“I heard you scream,” he whispers to the floor. “From down the hall. It was . . . Did he touch you?”

I did? I don’t remember making a sound. I stare at his ghostly face, the skin on his knuckles stretched and pinched white.

“No. He didn’t,” I say, knowing he could have. The thought sends shivers down my arms. I try to take a sip of water, but my hands are trembling. Shock? Maybe that’s why I feel so numb.

“I need some tea,” I mumble, my throat burning. Maybe I was screaming.

Nick scoffs, standing up straight. “This isn’t Starbucks.”

His smart-ass-ness helps me out of the fog. “I’d settle for Dunkin’.”

Slowly, my senses start to percolate, regaining some feeling in my body, noting my keys and wallet stabbing me through my jeans.