Page 103 of The Prodigy

29

Malika

Istaredatmyringing phone and hit the ignore button for the third time today.

It was my father, and I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.

Besides, I was busy today. I had to get Jakari home and make sure he was straight. Then I had to go down to the social security office to file for my name change. Then the DMV. Then the bank. And then I had to be at work at six.

My father could wait.

Gab had been cooking since I got home this morning. She said she was making all of Kari’s favorite foods. I left her to it, wanting no parts of her or that kitchen. I took a long nap, then showered and dressed before changing the sheets and straightening up our room.

I went into the closet to find the file folder I’d brought my papers and albums home in. It wasn’t on top of the safe where I left it. It was on the second shelf, and my papers were out of order. Frowning, I searched through the stack to make sure everything was there. It was, but someone had gone through it and rearranged them.

I heard loud voices downstairs. My husband was home, so I stuffed my papers into my Neverfull and went downstairs to greet him. Whatever was going on with my stuff would have to wait.

Afewdayslater,I was standing at the register when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Well, well, well.”

I turned around and came face to face with Brett Hightower. Standing at the bar. Leering.

I stood there, frozen, as those old feelings came rushing back; fear, anxiety, and anger. They say time heals all wounds, but mine were still raw. I wanted to run and hide.

Instead, I composed myself and painted on a smile.

“What can I get you?”

He looked me up and down, his pale skin flushing pink. “You don’t remember what I like?”

“Jameson, right?”

“Good girl.”

My skin crawled at those words, and the way they oozed out of his thin lips. “It’s pretty dead tonight,” I said. “Why don’t you take a table and I’ll have someone bring your drink.”

He grinned. “I think I’ll sit at the bar. The company looks good.”

Reeling, I turned away, and with shaking hands, I poured his drink, willing myself to stay calm. But when I went to slide it across the bar toward him, he winked at me.

Enough was enough.

I backed away slowly until my butt hit the door to the back office. I slammed through it and went straight to my cell phone.

“Hey, Malika. What’s up?” Dario sounded like he was laying down.

“He’s here.”

“Who?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Brett.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” I heard rustling, and then his voice came through a little clearer. “What’s he doing?”

---