Light Unshaken (Unveiled #2) Page 12

  A. J. stopped behind me.

  I turned. “What?”

  He lowered his head, swallowed. “Nothing.” He rubbed his scruffy cheek. “Sorry. I don’t know why I even brought any of this up.”

  Reaching him, I rested a hand over his. “Because I’m your friend. You can talk to me about anything.”

  His eyes blazed under the streetlight.

  This time, my whole body strayed away from the look in his eyes. A whisper came from behind me. “Some things you don’t want to hear.”

  He was probably right. I kept walking.

  He jogged to catch up and hopped in front of me. A mischievous grin reemerged. Following a Michael Jackson spin, he bowed and extended his arm toward my apartment. “Thank you, Miss Matthews, for using the twenty-four hour Bowers’s Protective Detail Service. You’ve been safely escorted to your home.”

  With his face inclined toward the ground, he hovered in position until my lack of movement solicited an upward glance. He hesitated, probably debating over which of us had more resolve.

  I perched a fist on my hip and wasted no time mimicking his arched brow. “You didn’t happen to come out just to look for me earlier, did you?”

  His eyes drifted from my hand to my foot tapping the sidewalk. A guiltless expression took over. “Now, why would I do that? I was minding my own business on my way to the gym when you happened to show up on my path.” His feisty smile edged closer. “Sure you’re not the one following me?”

  Ignoring his loaded comment, I thrust the ball in his arms and made it halfway to the door before calling over my shoulder. “Thanks for the protection, Agent Bowers. Looks like it was a narrow escape, after all.” I shuffled backward. “I wonder how those charming basketball players get around with such inflated heads.”

  He stood at the curb with both hands stowed inside his sweatshirt’s front pocket. His grin nearly surpassed the width of the basketball snuggled under his arm. “One of our many talents.”

  “Clearly.” I turned in time to hop onto the stoop.

  “Night, Em.”

  I waved behind me and shook my head until I caught a glimpse of his reflection in the windowed door, looking at me the way he used to.

  A part of me swelled with relief for regaining what I’d lost. Another part had to know why. “A. J., wait.” I started back down the sidewalk. “What changed? This summer, you were so distant.”

  He lowered his head again. “Guess I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was.”

  I stopped in front of him. “And now you are?”

  “No.” He looked up slowly. “Just tired of pretending to be.”

  Pretending. The word carved an outline around the hole in my chest. That was what I’d been doing too. All this time, pretending to be strong. For Riley. For me. But how else could I make it through this? “Sometimes pretending is your only choice,” I whispered.

  A smile tugged his lips sideways. “Heart of steel. You know, if you ever let your guard down, you might be surprised by what you find.”

  Or terrified of what I’d lose.

  chapter Seventeen

  Labels

  It was easier to stop pretending at the center. Something about the place girded me with a sense of courage I wasn’t convinced was my own. After not hearing back from Riley for two days, I needed all the help I could get.

  His sun-warmed car door pressed into my back while a city bus zipped down the street. Someone hustled toward me through a charcoal cloud of exhaust.

  “Miss E, wait up.” Dee skidded to a stop in front of the bumper. “Can I ask you somethin’?” He wound the ends of his backpack straps around his fingers and stared at the pavement as though it would answer for me. “Why did you stop him the day in the hall? Mr. A. J., I mean.”

  “You wanted me to let him hit you?”

  “He was just doin’ what was right.”

  Was that what he thought? Same as my initial response, A. J.’s reaction added another defining mark to the stigma that every kid in this neighborhood carried.

  Someone opened a back door a little ways ahead of us and dumped a bucket onto the street. Water gushed down the city drain, the steady flow pulling my heart with it.

  “Just because you’re used to being treated a certain way doesn’t make it right. Labels don’t define you.” No matter his past, he deserved a second chance. We all did.

  Years of skepticism tarnished his expression.

  There had to be a way to break through.

  “You punish yourself for that night enough as it is.” I squeezed his shoulder. “I forgive you, Dee. I think it’s about time you do the same.”

  A slow blink lifted his eyes toward mine. “You really believe the stuff they teach us here, don’t you?”

  Two teens from Tito’s gang strutted around the opposite building right as I reached for Dee’s hand. The one with tattoo sleeves hurled a groping stare up and down my body. “No wonder you bailed on us, Dee. Getting a little private tutoring on the side?”

  He clasped his companion’s hand and laughed. “C’mon, bro, you can’t be hoarding all the goods to yourself like that. Thought we was hermanos.” They advanced.

  With my arm secured around Dee’s back, we hustled toward the center. I didn’t glance backward until we made it around the side of the building. The punks didn’t follow. Not so tough in broad daylight, are you?

  Dee stopped just beyond the doorway. A look of shame weighed down his whole demeanor again.

  Just like with the other kids, it killed me to see the bars of his circumstances hold him prisoner. “You’re not like those guys.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re here.” Trey was right. It took guts for him to come to the center. I lowered my head to meet his eyes. “Your life has promise. You’ve just gotta be brave enough to believe it.” Same as I did.

  “Sometimes you need to recite it to yourself.” I circled my hand in the air. “Come on, let’s hear you say, ‘I am courageous.’”

  His blank stare swept from me to the door and down the walkway on either side of us. With no one else around, he mumbled the words.

  “How about with a little more conviction next time?” One day, he’d believe it.

  An unguarded smile slipped through his cover. “Miss E?” He spun his black ball cap around, bill at a slight angle. “Can I show you somethin’?”

  “Sure.”

  He dropped his bag from his shoulder to his forearm and withdrew a medium-sized sketchpad. After a moment’s hesitation, he handed it to me and looked away.

  Exquisite detail captured in pencil came to life on page after page of off-white canvas. This was what he’d been hiding in his backpack? My gaze shifted between the artwork and Dee’s shadow squirming on the sidewalk. “You drew all these?”

  “Yeah.” He slung his bag over his arm and shrugged.

  I lifted my necklace to my chin. “Dee, these are amazing. Have you ever thought about pursuing this?”

  “My cousin mentioned somethin’ to me ‘bout maybe doing graphic design, but I don’t know. . . .”

  “There are a lot of things you can do as an artist. Besides tagging old buildings.” A pointed look followed an elbow nudge. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You have too much potential to throw away.”

  Chin lowered, he drew an imaginary line along the concrete with his sneaker. “Maybe you could, you know, help me with some college apps.”

  It was a good thing he had his head down. I swallowed back the sudden rise of emotion before he saw it. “I’d love to.”

  He squeezed the bill of his hat. “And, uh, you think you could help me study for the PSATs?” he mumbled.

  “We all will,” A. J. said from behind us. “I owe you an apology, bro. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions without giving you a fair shot.”

  “It’s cool.” Dee gave him one of those half-handshake-half-hug things that had some inexplicable way of mending all guy arguments.

 
“Miss E’s right. You’ve got potential.” He tapped Dee’s bicep, lugged an arm around his neck, and steered him inside. “How about you show off some of those mad skills on the court. I could use a helper today.”

  And I could’ve used a box of tissues between the pair of them pulling at my heartstrings.

  A renewed sense of purpose followed me into the office. I booted up my computer.

  The front door opened. A couple stepped inside—Mr. Success and a woman who must’ve been his wife. Side by side, they looked like they could’ve walked right off Celebrity Apprentice. Was she holding a Chihuahua?

  A cautious glance from behind designer glasses bounced from one side of the room to the other. In a long, black dress coat, Mr. Brake lowered his briefcase to the floor and extended a hand toward Trey. “We were passing through so thought we’d make a quick stop.” He motioned to the woman. “My wife, Mindy. Mindy, Trey Williams.”

  If her hair wasn’t wound so tightly, her face might’ve relaxed enough to release a smile.

  Trey offered her a handshake nonetheless. “Wasn’t expecting you today.”

  Jim picked up his briefcase and dusted off the bottom. His curt laugh sounded painfully out of place. “We believe check-ins should be spontaneous. Gives us a more . . . authentic view of things.” He slid his hand down his wife’s back. “Think of us sort of like Social Services.”

  Did he really just say that?

  I coiled the wire to my mouse around my finger and kept my mouth shut.

  Trey’s reservoir of grace must’ve run even deeper than I thought. He motioned in front of him. “Let me show you out back since it’s not raining today.”

  A group of preteen girls ran in from the basketball court with Brandon on their heels.

  “Ladies, you know I be joking.” He stopped in front of Dee and leaned over his knees. “Help a brother out.”

  Dee raised his shoulders. “You’re on your own, bro.”

  The girls skimmed past the couple on their way out the door. Brandon jogged after them.

  Mindy clutched her purse and slinked behind her husband. A tiny snout baring extra-white teeth peeked around his shoulder.

  Mr. Brake nudged his wife toward the exit. “Why don’t you wait in the car, dear. Baxter will keep an eye on you.” He ruffled the dog’s ears. “Isn’t that right, Pookie?”

  “Pookie?” Dee mouthed from the corner of the room, his face scrunching like the dog’s.

  I knocked my pen on the floor and crawled under my desk so the couple didn’t see me laugh. Trey cleared his throat.

  The snaps to Mr. Brake’s briefcase clicked open, followed by some papers rustling. “We won’t take up too much of your day. Just want to make a few observations to report back to the board. We don’t take our investments lightly. . . .”

  His twangy voice trailed onto the court. He obviously wasn’t a Portlander.

  I mounted my chair in time to watch A. J. follow them out. Truth was, it didn’t matter what I thought about the guy, or his dog. If his foundation were the key to funneling grant money into the center, I’d polish his oversized dress shoes if I had to. At least he’d come. The kids couldn’t lose this place. And neither could I.

  Less than ten minutes later, a high-pitched scream followed a blaring car alarm. Dee and I exchanged a nervous glance. We bolted out front, the other three right behind us. Baxter scratched from inside the Lexus RX’s tinted windows. Mindy raced out of the car into her husband’s arms as if escaping a fire.

  My stomach pinched. Dread chased every glance around the car for evidence of damage.

  A. J. hustled across the street. “Trey,” he yelled.

  We all followed. A spray-painted symbol dripped down the quarter panel of Trey’s Honda onto shards of glass piled beneath a busted side window.

  Guilt collided with relief that it was Trey’s car and not the success couple’s.

  Jim cuddled his overly traumatized wife to his side. “This is exactly why we do random check-ins. To see what really goes on here.”

  He was two seconds away from getting his wool cap shoved down his throat. “And what exactly is going on here?”

  Ignoring me, he shot Trey a wary stare. “I’d be careful who you let into your place.” His gaze slanted to Dee and back. “I saw him by that fresh graffiti the other day.”

  He saw what he wanted to. Same as I had at first. Remorse took another stab, anger storming its heels. With one scathing look, he’d refuted everything I told Dee earlier about being more than a label.

  I stepped in front of Dee. “He was inside the office with me.”

  Without a reply, Jim escorted his wife over to their car. The warning on his face sliced through me with the wind. Fear latched on to the other emotions crushing my insides. If we lost the grant over this . . .

  A. J. pulled out his cell. “I’ll call a tow truck.”

  Trey stopped him. “Let me take care of this. You guys go on.” He peered behind him at the center. “Think we’ve had enough action to call it a day.”

  My head told me not to argue. My heart kept my feet cemented to the ground. Trey motioned for A. J. to intervene. With his arm around me, he led me to Riley’s Civic. I snapped my seatbelt on, heart still heavy. A. J. leaned against the door rim. “Trey’s got this.”

  Didn’t make it easier to swallow. “I know.”

  “Meet you back at campus?”

  “I’m gonna stop at Starbucks first. Clear my head for a while.”

  “Text me when you get home.” He closed the door and waited for me to take off.

  As hoped, an hour of soaking in Starbucks’s calming atmosphere eased the tension. Until the silence filling the car on the way home brought it surging back again.

  Was the success couple really that sheltered? They had to know not all of downtown Portland was like the Cultural District. Or maybe everything was about upholding pretenses. If that was what it’d take to keep us from losing this contract, then A. J. and I had to come up with a plan, and fast. Trey had too much on his plate. If we could just—

  My cell buzzed from the passenger seat. I swiped the screen. “Trey?”

  Concern cloaked the fatherly tone he wrestled to keep in place from the second he started talking. I couldn’t get a word in.

  “Wait, what? Are you ser—?” I glared in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be right there.”

  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.