The Scammer(57)

Clearing the fear out of my throat, I paste on a fake smile, slide over on the mattress, and pat the empty space between us. Nick rolls his eyes and laughs.



* * *




I shouldn’t be here without Nick or his escort, but I’m fresh out of clean clothes and the Kappa house laundry room smells too funky for me to even consider stepping into.

Knowing the girls’ schedules by heart, I have a small window when the suite should be empty. The question is whether Devonte is there alone or not. Or maybe the boys. Or some of his other followers.

But I have to take the risk.

I scurry through the lobby, keeping my head down, straight to the mailroom. I open my box and a stack of letters fall out. The official kind, from credit card companies. I gather them up in my bag and book it to the elevators.

I put an ear to the suite door. No music, no voices.

No Devonte.

I step in and stop short at the sight of my room door ajar, the lock broken. Pulse throbbing, I slowly enter.

The room has been ransacked, a tornado spiraling through twice. Nothing appears to be missing. Just clothes torn, books and sheets tossed. I set the mattress right and slump on my bed.

They were looking for something. . . . What did they find?

Without thinking, I dig into my bag and open the first letter, congratulating me on opening a new credit card. A credit card that I never applied for. There are two more letters like it. The next letter is a statement, confirming cash withdrawals.

Credit card companies charge a higher rate for a cash advance than regular charges. The longer the debt stays on my account, the higher it will become. Within a few months, my credit will be ruined. I won’t be able to get an apartment, a car, a home. . . .

The suite door slams shut. I gasp, spinning around.

“What are you doing here?” Kammy yells.

I try to think of the best way to defend myself but my thoughts are cut off at the sight of her arm.

“OMG, Kammy, are you okay? Are those bruises?”

Kammy notices her sweater has dropped off her shoulder and quickly gathers it up before storming off to her room.

“Kammy, please talk to me,” I beg, following. Her room smells just like Devonte. Kammy’s face is slimmer, the sparkle is missing out of her bright eyes.

“You don’t look so good.”

She whips around. “You need to stay out of my business! You’re not one of us anymore.”

“Kammy . . . I’m still your friend, I still care about you. And I think you know, deep down, that this isn’t right.”

Kammy stands in the middle of her room, scratching at her head wrap.

“You know, Devonte been talking about you. Feels like that’s all he talks about. You really hurt him.”

“I hurt him?” I scoff.

“Yeah! Devonte needs us. He’s the path to true Black enlightenment. He has a plan for the advancement of our people. And you just . . . abandon him?”

“Kammy. He’s been lying to us about everything. About the chemtrails, pork, toxins in food. I have proof that—”

“You’re gonna believe some white man before you believe your own people? Do you even hear yourself?”

“No, do YOU hear yourself? You really think this one guy, this ex-con, has all the answers? Think, Kammy! Why does he need a bunch of college students to carry out his plan? And why does he need our money to do it?”

Kammy breathes in deep, rubbing her forehead.

“Once we open Emancipation, people are going to learn the truth. They are going to BEG to get in. When this country falls apart, and civil war breaks out, we’ll be ready.”

I sigh. It’s no use. She’s already gone. My phone buzzes with a text.

Nick: Hey. Where are you?



“You know, I’m no longer a virgin.”

I glance up at her defiant chin pointing to the ceiling.

“Kammy. No . . . why?”

She crosses her legs, fidgeting with her fingers.

“It’s a part of my healing,” she says. “He says he has the perfect man for me to be with, once we’re at Emancipation.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t have to have sex with him to heal anything.”

“Yes, I did,” she says, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what it’s like having PTSD.”

“Do you?” I challenged. “Do you even know what was broken that he had to fix?”

For a moment, the real Kammy emerges, her eyes widening, the hysterical bravado erased.

She blinks. “What?”

“Do you really think what Devonte told you happened with your family really happened the way he said it did? How does he know? He wasn’t there. But you were.”

Kammy steps back, tears filling her eyes. “How could you be so cruel? My family abused me!”

“Kammy,” I start, then think of another way. “If I could bring you proof that Devonte is lying to us, would you consider hearing me about other things too?”

Kammy mulls this over then rolls her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Bring me your proof. Then we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” I say, grabbing a few things and heading for the door.

“Have you . . . seen Legacy?” Kammy asks.

“No. Why?”

She swallows. “No reason. You should go.”