Boy Trouble (11 page)

I
was headed to see the one person who hadn't lost their mind—Alvin. As soon as I got off the phone with Kennedi, I called and told him that I was on my way over. He sounded a little distracted, but he was going to have to refocus and help me figure out what to do. I navigated my BMW off the exit ramp that led to Alvin's house. I pulled in to his driveway and made my way up to his sidewalk. Alvin met me at the front door, a look of concern on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You sound stressed.”

“No, I'm not okay,” I replied.

He reached out and, without saying a word, pulled me into a tight bear hug. I wish that I liked Alvin like that because he always made me feel so safe, but that wasn't what I was here for.

“I need to vent,” I said, pulling away.

“Just call me the ventilator,” he said, grinning as he motioned for me to come in.

“You are so corny.” I laughed as I walked in, then set my purse on the coffee table and looked around. “Where's your mom?”

“Upstairs in her room. Where she always is.”

He was right about that. Since I'd known Alvin, I'd only met his mom three or four times. At first, I'd thought it was crazy that a twenty-one-year-old guy as rich as Alvin lived with his mother, but then I'd found out that she actually lived with him. She'd been sick so Alvin had bought the house outright and moved her in.

“So, what's up?” Alvin asked after we had gotten settled in the living room.

I sighed. “Kennedi and Sheridan have both lost their minds.”

“Still boy trouble?” he asked, taking my purse off my shoulder.

I nodded. “And it's like they've been smoking that K2 or something that was going around last month.”

He laughed. “I doubt your friends are doing any drugs.” I used to think that, but I didn't know what to think about them anymore. “I don't know what else can explain how they've lost their minds,” I said.

“So you said something on the phone about Kendrick being arrested for domestic abuse.”

“Yeah,” I said. I pulled out another copy of Kendrick's mug shot since Kennedi had torn up the first one. “Look at this. He was arrested less than a year ago for assaulting his girlfriend, and Kennedi doesn't even care about that.”

“Wow,” Alvin said, studying the piece of paper. “I can't believe she's attracted to a guy like this.”

“Yeah, you and me both, especially since Kennedi was always the strong one of the group, the one who didn't take any mess. How she's able to allow herself to be in an abusive relationship is beyond me.”

“Do you know for a fact that she's being abused?” he asked, handing the paper back to me.

“Yes.” I tucked the paper back into my bag. “I mean maybe he's not beating her up, per se but he's definitely laying his hands on her. The other night she came from the back where they had been fighting and her clothes were ripped. She was crying and he was pissed. And he had his fists balled up like he was ready to punch her.”

“Wow,” Alvin said.

“And then, there's Sheridan. She's not any better. Javier may not have laid any hands on her, but he's definitely verbally abusing her.”

“Well, you know a lot of people don't see words as abuse,” Alvin replied. “I had a cousin who talked to his girl so bad, we had to tell him about himself. He looked at us like we were crazy when we told him that was abuse.”

“Yeah, that's how Javier is. If he talks to her crazy in front of people, I can only imagine what he does when they're alone.” I shook my head. “I just can't believe the way he talks to her and the fact that she allows it.”

“I'm shocked,” Alvin said. Of course, he'd met both Sheridan and Kennedi, but he really knew them through all the things I shared.

“You're shocked? How do you think
I
feel? But that's not even the worst of it.”

I then replayed what I had caught Javier doing in the girls' locker room.

“So, he's a thief, too?” Alvin asked in disbelief.

“Yes, and what's so jacked up is I tried to tell Sheridan, and Javier once again beat me to her, making it out like I was lying. I just can't believe this. We've been friends since like, forever, and she takes his word over mine.”

“Dang,” Alvin replied. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don't know. When I try to talk to the two of them, neither one of them is trying to hear what I'm saying and they're making it out like
I'm
the one who's crazy, and I'm the one who's out of order for ‘butting in,' as Sheridan said.”

“You know sometimes, you have to let people make their own mistakes,” he said.

“Yeah, I get that, but I can't sit back and do nothing,” I said.

“So again, then, what are you going to do?”

I shifted on the sofa. I had thought about this all the way over here. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about,” I told him. “I need to do something. I tried talking and it's not helping. But I can't just sit back and watch my best friends be in abusive relationships.”

“Do you think you should tell their parents?” he asked.

I stood and started pacing. “I don't know. Neither one of them would forgive me for that, plus Kennedi's parents are already trippin' because they're worried about her. They'd probably ground her until she was twenty-five.”

“That's a tough one.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Before I could say anything else, Alvin's doorbell rang. He looked at me uneasily, but didn't move. The bell rang again.

“Aren't you going to get that?”

He just stared at me.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“I, um . . . I was kind of um . . .”

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Why don't you want to answer your door?”

“That's, um . . . that's Marisol. She was . . .”

I didn't give him time to finish. I stomped over to the door. I couldn't even get time with him without Marisol popping up.

I swung the door open and the big, cheesy grin quickly evaporated from her face.

“So, that's your car?” she said, attitude all over her face. I'd met Marisol many times, and although she tried to act nice to me, it was so fake it was ridiculous. I could tell that she didn't like me. But it's not like I cared. I didn't like her either. Alvin was a nice guy, and Marisol looked like she'd been around the block a few times. She was so thirsty, and I couldn't believe Alvin was attracted to her.

Alvin moved to the door before either of us could say a word.

“Hey, Marisol,” he said, motioning for her to come in. She immediately plastered a smile back on. “Hey, baby,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. I could tell it caught him by surprise. Marisol walked in, then turned to face me. “Hey, Maya. What are you doing here?”

I was about to tell her none of her business, but Alvin jumped in.

“Maya just stopped by for a minute.”

I cut my eyes at Alvin. Why in the heck was he acting so nervous?

“Oh, that's sweet.” She turned to Alvin. “But we're going to be late for the game.”

I looked at Alvin. “What game? You didn't say you were about to leave.”

“Oh, my boo got us floor seats for the Heat–Lakers game,” Marisol answered for him. She draped her arm through his. “He is always spoiling me.” She held out her arm in my direction. “Like this diamond tennis bracelet he got me for my birthday last week. Isn't it gorgeous?”

I swear, I felt sick to my stomach. If Alvin was buying her diamonds and getting her floor seats to NBA games, this relationship was more serious than he was letting on.

“Wow” was all I could say.

“Well, I guess you should be running along,” Marisol told me. “Alvin, tell your little friend bye.”

Marisol stood there grinning like she'd really put me in my place.

“Little?” I said, folding my arms.

“Maya, she's right.” Alvin once again jumped in between us. “We need to get going. We can catch up later.”

My gaze went from Alvin—who was so nervous he was sweating like it was the middle of summer—to Marisol, who still was looking smug.

“Don't bother,” I finally said, grabbing my purse. “You go do you, Alvin and I'll keep doing me.”

I turned and hightailed it out of there before I found myself in the middle of any more trouble.

O
kay, so I might have been wrong about Javier breaking into a locker. As it turns out, Kayla, a freshman who lived in his apartment complex, really did call and ask him to get her phone out of the locker. She'd come up to me at school yesterday to let me know since Javier must've told her what I'd accused him of.

Truthfully, ol' girl might've even been lying, but it still made me look bad. Though I dang sure didn't
feel
bad. Javier might have had permission to go in that one locker, but I'd seen him go in more than one. So, I have no doubt that if I hadn't gone in there, Javier would've cleaned out the rest of those lockers and robbed the girls' basketball team blind.

Even still, I hated that he now had some ammunition to convince Sheridan that I just wanted to break them up. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. I wanted my girl to be happy. Just with someone that deserved her.

I pushed aside thoughts of that jerk and returned to my work. Digging up dirt and gossip was hard. I'd just finished checking all the blogs, looking through the latest tabloids, and following up with my sources, trying to find the next major story. Because I'd done everything from exposing the infamous K2 drug ring to tracking down an Internet imposter, I felt like every show had to top the next, and right about now it seemed like my well was running dry. I leaned back in my chair and stretched, and just as I did Yolanda, my assistant, walked in.

“Hey, are you watching TV?” She had a panicked expression on her face.

“No, why? What's going on?” I leaned up and flipped on the television at the end of my dressing table.

“Turn to CNN.”

I flipped over as the anchor was talking
. “Again, if you're just tuning in, CNN has learned that actress Mynique Foxx has died. ”

“What?” I said, my mouth falling open. “What happened?”

“Listen,” Yolanda said, pointing at the TV.

Demond Cash's picture flashed on the screen and I thought I was going to pass out.

“CNN has learned,”
the anchor continued,
“that Cash is expected to turn himself in to authorities later today. We'll stay on top of this story and keep you updated.”

“Wow,” I said, pushing the mute button as they went to commercial. “What happened?”

Yolanda shrugged. “I don't know. They said there was a fight outside of a club last night, and then police found her body this morning. Apparently the housekeeper found her or something and called police.”

“Wow,” I repeated. “How do they know Demond did it?”

“Because the housekeeper said he had blood on his shirt and he fled as soon as she walked in. They said she had been shot.”

“Shot?” I exclaimed.

“Yeah. In the stomach.”

I couldn't do anything but shake my head. I'd tried to help the girl and she'd turned on me. Now look at where she was. “So, what happened?” I asked.

“I don't know,” Yolanda shrugged. “I was just watching it in the break room. It sounds like their fight at the club moved home.”

Just then, Tamara stuck her head into my office. “Maya, did you see the Mynique Foxx story?”

“Yeah,” I told her.

“How did
we
not break that?”

I raised an eyebrow at Tamara. Like I was supposed to know when somebody got killed. “Um, I don't work the police beat. You should be talking to your news department.”

Tamara let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, but I need you to get right on this. See what you can find out about Demond.”

I wanted to ask her what did she expect me to get. Demond hated me so there was no way he was going to talk to me. She must've read the look on my face because she said, “Look, just do what you can. I'd like for us to have something fresh when we tape tomorrow.”

I sighed. “Okay, I'll get on it.” She didn't say anything else as she turned and left my office, no doubt to see what dirt she could dig up herself.

“Anything you need me to do?” Yolanda asked.

“Yeah, can you go in the system and pull up Demond's record, and see if he has any other arrests? Maybe I missed something earlier. If he would get angry enough to shoot someone, this can't be the first time he got into trouble. You might need to go to the news department to see if they can get into the database to find out if there's anything that's been sealed.”

“Okay, I'm on it.”

My eyes went back to the TV after she left. CNN had moved on to another story.

Mynique Foxx's life had been reduced to sixty seconds on the evening news. If only she had listened.

I turned back to my computer to see if I could find out anything, and my screen saver scrolled across the computer. It was me, Sheridan, and Kennedi. I think that picture was taken at the Miami-Dade County Fair. We didn't do fairs but had decided to crash the event because we hadn't had anything else to do, and it had turned out to be so much fun. Looking at both of my friends and thinking about Mynique Foxx, I knew I had to do something. Mynique hadn't listened. She hadn't wanted my help, and now look where it had gotten her.

No, my BFFs wouldn't end up like Mynique Foxx. Not if I had anything to do about it. And there
was
something I could do. It would give Tamara the ratings she wanted and hopefully serve as a wake-up call to my friends. I just hoped they'd forgive me for doing it.