Page 19 of Crossing Lines

A security guard exits the main door, seeming like he’s about to leave. I step out of my car, approach the locked gates, and wave to draw his attention. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Can I help you?” he asks, coming to a halt.

“My boyfriend, Jamir Bartley, is working late. Could I go up to see him, please?”

“Bartley left two hours ago. No one’s here.”

I wince in confusion. “That can’t be. I just spoke to him. He told me he was still here and was leaving in an hour.”

“Look, Miss, no one’s inside. Everyone’s logged out for the day, and I did my final round for the night.” He walks out the side gate and strides up the street.

Baffled, I hop back into my car and drive from the area. Maybe the security guard made a mistake about the time. Jamir must have left right after talking to me.

I exit the area and continue toward Woodlawn, calling him as I approach his neighborhood.

He answers just before his voicemail picks up. “You forgot something?”

“Um...” Reaching the condominiums, I park on the opposite street and look at his place on the second floor. There’s no light inside. “How about I meet you at your condo? We don’t have to have sex.”

“Babe, I’m still at the office. You have work in the morning, so I don’t want you waiting up for me.”

Boiling anger spills out of me. “Liar! I was just at your office. The security told me you left hours ago. Where the hell are you? Are you home with some—”

“You checking my whereabouts?” he grunts.

“Don’t fucking turn it on me,” I snap. “Why are you lying? Where are you? I’m outside your condo.”

“Shit,” he grates, a defeated groan coming through right after. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m at a country club with a potential client. They have women here.”

“What?” My grip tightens on the phone. “What the fuck, Jamir!”

“I’m only drinking and talking business,” he assures me. “I didn’t want to upset you. That’s why I kept it from you. I’m trying to win this guy over and not piss off my boss. I’m not doing anything disrespectful, babe. Please try to understand.”

“You should have told me,” I grit through clenched teeth. “Instead, you lied.”

“I’m sorry. Look, I have to get back. I’ll pick you up for lunch tomorrow. Don’t be upset.”

“Don’t be upset?” I huff. “You know what? Bye.”

“Babe—”

I hang up on him and smack the steering wheel. “Fuck this.” It looks like I’ll be at the club tonight, after all.

EIGHT

The heavy booms of the dancehall song rattle my bones. I weave through the lively crowd after leaving my coat at the entrance, scanning the place until I spot Trishell grinding her bubble butt on Reeve.

My curvy cousin is sexy in her off-the-shoulder, leopard print midi dress, hair styled in loose waves, while her boo’s rocking an olive green textured shirt with dark jeans, his straight-back braids and fades looking fresh. She wraps her arms around his neck as the DJ plays a track by Spice, Shaggy, and Sean Paul.

Watching them having fun makes me envious. Jamir and I haven’t been out dancing in a while. He’s not into that.

My mind drifts to Kross, and an impulse has me searching the club for him, craving another contact.

“Cuz, you came!”

I peel around at Trishell’s squeal. “Hey!” I nod to her man. “Hi, Reeve.”

“How you doing, girl?” he returns in his thick Jamaican accent, giving me a partial hug.

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