Light Unshaken (Unveiled #2) (13 page)

chapter eighteen

Splintered

I whipped the car into the same parking spot I’d left an hour ago. In my rush to get out, I couldn’t get my seatbelt off fast enough. My keys dropped onto the curb. The
clank
shook down the street. I wrenched my arm free from the tangled belt, crammed it inside, and pushed the door closed. With my hair shoved out of my face, the center tunneled into focus.

My palm scraped along the bricks as I darted around the corner. Trey stood at the end of the walkway, head down, a charcoal beret shadowing his face. I slowed. “Trey?”

“I didn’t mean for you to come back.” The porch light’s buzz almost drowned out his gravelly voice.

“It’s fine. I was only halfway home.”

“Me too.” He tipped his head at the building next door. “I got a call from Mr. Jenkins. Said he heard some ruckus.”

“Ruckus?”

His pinched brow intensified the dread that’d been festering in my stomach since his call. His backward step equaled my forward stride. He reached for my shoulders and braced me a foot away from the basketball court. “Emma, you don’t need to be here.”

How could he say that? “Yes, I do.” I pushed around him. The caved-in fence stopped me short.

Trey’s head drooped toward the sidewalk at the same time as my heart. A metal trashcan lay in the center of the court on top of layers of garbage covering the ground. The basketball net hung in frayed threads from a bent rim.

“What is all this?”

“Another warning.” He nodded toward the same spray-painted symbol from his car tattooed over the back of the building.

Staring at the wall, I climbed through the broken fence. Wads of paper and foil and who-knows-what-else crinkled along my sneaker-driven path toward the graffiti. Thoughts screamed until one name superseded every other sound. I spun around. “Is Dee okay?”

“He’s fine,” Trey said, already right beside me. “I checked in with Ms. Mendierez.”

Of course he had. Even in such a short time, it was obvious Dee revered Trey as a father, and no doubt, Trey felt likewise. Dee was family now, and this was his home. It was all of ours.

I snatched up a piece of garbage and clenched it in my fist. “I don’t know what kind of hold those punks think they have over him, but—”

“You’re exactly right. You don’t know.”

“What?” I lost my grip on the wadded-up ball and the threads of my crumbled sense of belonging.

Trey picked up the garbage. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just . . .” He rocked the trashcan upright and dropped the paper inside. “These guys are reckless, Emma. Dangerous.”

He leaned onto the can’s metal edge and let out a tension-filled wheeze. “I called to make sure you made it home.”

Chin lowered, he looked like a homeless man hovering around a barrel of fire, worn and weary. “You got lucky last time. What if you’re here, and A. J.’s not around? What if I’m not?”

The implications marched me backward into the wall and into a choice I had to make. Crouched against the brick with my hands on my knees, I fought to keep the ground from shaking.

Vivid scenes from the attack crashed through the doors I tried to keep locked and pummeled me with the same vulnerability that reliving them always triggered.

The helplessness I’d felt that night. The fear of what I could’ve lost. It’d always be in the background now. Lurking in the shadows. Assailing me with silent taunts.

The bruises on my wrists might’ve faded, but the memory never would. The risk of being hurt while at the center was as real as the scar left under my chin from Tito’s ring.

Breathing in, I clung to my necklace and Dad’s promise. Tito may have turned the basketball court into shambles, but I wouldn’t let him do the same to the kids’ hearts. Or to mine. Same as love, purpose took commitment and sacrifice. We couldn’t lose our last grant lead. I’d do whatever it took.

I kicked off the wall and stood before Trey. A deep inhale of exhaust-tainted air broadened my shoulders. “Dee’s worth the cost. All the kids are.”

Trey cupped my face. Parenthesis-shaped wrinkles bookended a smile that looked pained. “You’re a treasure, Emma.” He swallowed something unsaid and turned. “It shows in the performance review I just submitted for you. They’d be crazy not to give you an A.”

His voice betrayed his light tone.

“I don’t care about any of that.”

He stopped and faced me. “You should. You urge Dee to protect his future, but what about yours?”

My throat constricted. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying maybe we should end your internship a little early. You’ve certainly earned your experience.” He waded through the debris toward the utility closet.

My mind sprinted ten steps ahead of my frozen body. “What? You . . . ? No.” I ran after him.

“Trey, no. I’m not doing this just for experience. Or grades. Or my future. This—this place, the work we’re doing here—this is my life right now.” The one constant. “I won’t work past six. I’ll always have someone walk me out.” I rested a hand over his and nodded. “Please.”

He squeezed my fingers. “You’re brave, kid. I’ll give you that.” He retrieved a broom from the closet.

I stole one for myself and squared off beside him. “Thought I was stubborn.”

His Cosby laugh billowed across the open-walled court. “That too, my dear. In full spades. I tried to warn Riley.”

The chain fence rattled. Trey swept in front of me like a body guard.

On the sidewalk, A. J. reached for his mouth. “What the—?”

“Tito, that’s what,” I said from behind Trey’s shoulder.

A. J.’s knuckles whitened around the fence links, his face the exact opposite shade. “What are we still doing here? Those punks could be nearby.”

The fence shook as he pushed off it.

“Stop.” Trey strode forward with the authority of a commanding officer. “This isn’t your fight.”

A. J.’s glance bounced from me to the vandalized court and back. “The hell it isn’t.” He jerked toward the street again. “I let those two kids get away last time. Not again.”

Trey slid in front of him. “There were only two of them last time. Not a whole gang.”

A. J. turned. “We don’t know how many are out there.”

“Exactly,” Trey said.

He squeezed the fence again. “So, you’re just gonna let them win?”

Trey set a solid grip on his shoulder and held out a broom. “Not all fights are won with your fists.”

He examined the broom as if Trey’d handed him something from outer space. “You want me to win this fight by cleaning? You can’t be serious. They might be watching us right now.”

Trey turned. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

A. J. lumbered onto the court behind him. He tossed his hat on the ground and raked his fingers through his hair. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things, man.”

The sound of footsteps from the walkway butted into Trey’s husky laugh.

This time, two bodyguards stood post in front of me.

I pushed through their shoulders. “Dee? What do you think you’re doing here?”

He shrugged. “My mom told me what happened.”

“You can’t just come parading down the streets at night. You could’ve been hurt.”

Dee shook his coat off his shoulders, baring his stocky muscles. “Think I can handle myself on the streets.”

Were he and A. J. like brothers, or what?

Dee flicked his chin at the mess around us. “Trashing your car wasn’t enough for him?”

Trey swept up a small square of debris. “Apparently not.”

Dee mumbled something in Spanish and hit the fence.

“Hey,” Trey yelled. “You wanna flex those muscles? Here.” He shoved him his broom.

A. J. laughed at Dee’s expression and rubbed a hand over his head. “Don’t argue, bro.”

Trey retrieved trash bags and dustpans from the closet. The four of us paired up and got to work on opposite ends of the court.

We wouldn’t be able to remove all traces of the vandalism before tomorrow, but we’d do the best we could. The kids deserved that much, and we couldn’t afford to let the Success Duo see any more of Tito’s handiwork.

Dee dumped a dustpan full of litter into a bag. “I’m sorry, Miss E.”

“It’s cool.” I pointed a thumb at A. J. “You should’ve seen Mr. Macho’s reaction when he first got here.”

“No, I mean for this.” Dee motioned toward the middle of the court and the wreckage covering it. “This is my fault.”

“Oh, really?” I leaned on my broom’s wooden handle. “You ordered Tito to do this?”

“No, but—”

I raised a brow. “That’s what I thought. We each make our own choices. You know that.”

He twisted two sides of a black trash bag and compacted the garbage with his knee. His gaze swept around the court and landed on Trey. “He’s not gonna press charges, is he?”

I pushed the sweaty hair away from my forehead with my sleeve. “Like I said. We all make our own choices.”

Dee tied the ends of the garbage bag into a tight knot. “He’s right. Fighting with Tito ain’t gonna change nothing. Maybe I should just man up and talk to him. Show him how different things could roll if he came here.”

“Oh, Dee, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” This was about the center, but it was personal too. He could be hurt or worse.

He rose. “You guys took me in. Why not him?”

My palms dragged down the chipped broom handle. Was he kidding?

“You aren’t Tito.” I picked at a splinter on my thumb. “You’re different.”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“How can you say that?”

He heaved the garbage bag onto his shoulder. “’Cause it’s what you taught me. We all need grace, right?”

In such a short time, I’d watched the anticipation of believing things could change replace the doubt that’d caged him. Every moment spent with him exposed how little I really understood about courage.

The splinter in my skin didn’t come close to the one digging into my heart. The chime of an incoming text pushed it in even deeper. I knew Riley’d need some time to think after our last conversation. He had more to process than just the fact that I’d been bruised up by gang members. He had to process through the reason why I’d waited so long to tell him.

I swiped the screen. My heart plummeted at the sight of Jaycee’s name instead of Riley’s.

You ok? Where are you?

She expected me home an hour ago. No wonder she was worried. I typed a quick reply and pocketed my phone again.

The day’s stress soaked into the shadows overtaking the back corner of the court. “
We all need grace.
” Dee’s words settled over me. Would that same grace cover me too? I faced the dark sky. Some things were easier to believe in daylight.

chapter nineteen

Bruised

Last night’s manual labor ached in muscles my usual workouts at the gym obviously missed. Sitting in this stiff chair all afternoon sure hadn’t helped. Stationed at my desk, I rotated from side to side to stretch out my back.

At least Trey’d agreed to let me stay on. With constant supervision, of course.

My cell sat on a notepad beside me. No notifications. I tapped the side of my keyboard, debating whether I should call Riley. Would he even answer? But what if this whole time he’d been waiting on me? Scooping up my phone, I swiveled toward the wall and waited while one ring led into another. His all too familiar voicemail stood in for him.

My voice dropped with my chin. “Hey, just, um, wanted to talk.” Wanted to make sure there was still something to talk about. The screen door shuddered behind me. “Call me when you have time.”

I hung up and turned right as little Andre came toppling into the office from the basketball court. He bounded headfirst into A. J.’s legs. My pinched lips wouldn’t have held back my smile if I tried, not with that precious face stealing my heart. Achy muscles were nothing compared to my return on investment with these kids. Same as studying for the PSATs with Dee would be. They were worth focusing on. I shut my cell and questions about Riley in a side drawer for now.

On his desk phone, Trey stared into his mug and swept off his cap. The overhead light caught a few silver hairs I didn’t remember seeing before. He took a sip of coffee that had to have trespassed way beyond the lukewarm stage by this point in the day.

He clamped the phone to his ear with his shoulder and massaged his temples. “Yes, sir, I know when the rent is due. I—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand, Mr. Glyndon. I hate putting you in this position too.”

His chair creaked upright. “Mm hmm.” He leafed through a pile of bills I’d given him earlier, dropped them back on his desk, and shook his mouse.

Poring over the computer screen, he adjusted his glasses. “I promise to have a payment to you by the end of the week.” He pulled a pen cap off with his teeth and jotted something down. “Yes . . . yes, sir. Will do. We’ll see you then.”

The handset clicked into its base. Trey unwound his finger from the spiraled cord, but the stress on his face didn’t come close to unraveling as easily. He met my anxious eyes, directed my attention toward Andre, and shook his head as if to say, not now.

The side door opened. Dee slipped in with his hood pulled over his hat.

The repercussions of Trey’s phone call could wait a little longer. I unburied a booklet from beneath a pile of paper. “Hey, I was just thinking of you. Ready to tackle the PSAT prep course?”

Dee started for the classroom without lifting a glance my way. “I’m not taking them.”

“What?”

Trey and A. J. both returned my confused stare.

I headed after him. “Dee, wait.”

Keeping his head down, he tugged on the bill of his hat to shield his face. I cut him off at the door. He pulled his arm away from my hand. “Just forget it, a’ight? It’s not gonna happen. Never was.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand. I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” He looked at me then. The light caught the sheen of blood on a gash in his lip that had barely started to scab. Dark bruises discolored the skin swollen around his left brow. More than any physical wound, the fractured look in his eyes cut the deepest. Whatever fight he’d been in, he’d taken my heart through it too.

I covered my mouth and reached for him. “Dee.”

He flinched from my touch. “I’m a thug, Miss E. The streets is where I belong. Not some college.”

How could he say that? Crestfallen, I turned to Trey.

He nodded and lifted Andre onto his hip. “How ‘bout we work on that dunk you’ve been practicing?” He motioned for A. J. to follow them out back.

The room fell quiet again. “You went to talk to Tito, didn’t you?”

Dee kicked the baseboard and let out a rueful laugh. “Naw. He sent Hugo and Mark to pay me a visit. Roughed up my pad. If my mom had been there . . .” He yanked his hood off and mumbled in Spanish. “They said Tito was doin’ me a favor. Remindin’ me who I am. Where I belong.”

I brushed my thumb over the cuts on his knuckles. He winced but didn’t pull away. “You can’t let them bully you.”

“You don’t think I’m trying?” He backed up, shook his head. “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout how things roll here.”

I swallowed the sting. “Maybe not, but I know you.” I lifted his chin until he met the certainty in my eyes. “And I believe in what I see.”

A rap at the door drew us both around.

Mr. Brake stepped in, slid his Newsboy cap off, and scanned the room.

What was he doing here? Taking some kind of inventory again?

“Trey’s out back.” I headed for the door. “Let me grab him—”

“Don’t bother. I’m not staying.” He strode past me. “Someone broke into my daughter’s car last night. Used the same M. O. as with Mr. Williams’s car.” He peered outside toward the frayed basketball net.

My blank stare trailed from him to Dee and back again.

“She saw the bastard from her apartment window. Said he looked like he’d been in a fight.” His brown eyes paraded over Dee’s broken face. His knuckles whitened. Trembling, he took two strides toward him. “If you ever come near my daughter again, so help me.”

Dee looked backhanded. “I didn’t do nothin’ to your daughter or her car.”

Jim released his balled-up fists, visibly fighting to uphold his composure. He straightened his tie. “I told Mr. Williams to be careful who he let in here.”

My nails dug into my palms. “Excuse me?”

His briefcase brackets clicked open. He laid a piece of paper on Trey’s desk, business-mode taking over again. “We only support organizations that set up the next generation for success.” He flicked his chin in Dee’s direction. “Not ones that perpetuate failure.”

I blinked. Twice. Voice lost.

Dee’s busted lip twitched beneath glassy eyes. He tugged his hood back on and grazed Jim’s shoulder on his way out.

“Dee, wait.”

Mr. Brake stood in my path and motioned to the rejection notice he’d left on Trey’s desk. “I trust you’ll make sure Mr. Williams gets this?”

My temples throbbed. I glared at him. “You don’t know a thing about this place, about these kids.”

He secured his cap over his balding head. “I know they just cost you a grant.”

Teeth gritted, I started to shake, angrier at his arrogance than at Tito’s. “Get. Out.”

The screen door swung open. Mr. Brake nodded to someone behind me and backed out the way he came in.

I turned, and A. J. caught me in his arms. Trey blurred out of focus in front of me.

Perpetuating failure? That pompous jerk had some nerve. I didn’t care how it looked. He should’ve gotten the facts first. Why’d he bother flaunting a chance of success if he’d discounted the kids at first glance?
He
was the one perpetuating failure. Not Dee.

Dee.
I pushed off A. J. “I have to find him.”

“Em—”

Trey grabbed A. J.’s arm. “Let her go.”

I hustled outside and down to the main street. Beside a metal trashcan in front of our neighbor’s, Dee sat on the curb with his head in his hands. I inched toward him, not knowing what to say except that I wanted to make it all go away. Every bruise, seen and unseen.

I joined him on the curb and rested my arm against his in place of words that wouldn’t come.

He rubbed his cuff under his nose. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It ain’t nothin’ I never heard before.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Quiet minutes drifted into the last of the day’s light, disintegrating behind the building opposite us. Even in the hardest of moments, friendship was a gift. One with a tag that read,
no words necessary
.

A smile gradually found its way to Dee’s face. He pressed his arm into mine. “Courageous?”

“Courageous,” I whispered back. “Things are gonna work out, Dee.”

Somehow.