“We could carpool to work,” I suggested and got more soft laughter.
Really.
Totally.
This together togetherness was super easy.
The door to the house I was watching opened and my back went straight.
The garages were in the back but I couldn’t stakeout back there without being seen. Therefore, I knew, unless I could find a vantage point to the garage not in my car, I would be lucky if I saw anything since coming and going activity would all happen at the back.
I was tenacious and this had to do with Darius, so I tried it anyway.
But now I was seeing something.
And I couldn’t fucking believe my eyes.
A very handsome African American boy-man, maybe sixteen, was walking out of the house. He was tall, his hair cut close to his head, very well-muscled, and he had a basketball held loosely under his arm.
But it wasn’t just him that had my attention.
Coming out behind him but stopping on the front step was Malia Clark. She was wearing attractive business-style clothes, but her feet were bare like she’d kicked off her heels when she got home. Her thick, black, straightened hair was long and had soft curls at the ends but the front was tucked behind her ear in a casual sexy way that worked great with her oval face and big eyes.
She was smiling at the boy as he walked away and they were talking to each other. I knew this since her mouth was moving and he kept looking over his shoulder.
Malia Clark had been Darius’s girlfriend in high school. I hadn’t seen her since his father’s funeral.
She backed into the house and closed the door.
My eyes went to the boy and my heart thumped.
“Holy fucking shit,” I whispered, completely forgetting I was on the phone with Ren.
“What?” he asked.
“Holy fucking shit,” I repeated, staring at the kid.
“Ally, what? Are you okay?” Ren clipped in my ear.
“Zano,” I said quietly because I was too shocked to get my voice to go louder. “Right now, I’m staring at Darius Tucker’s teenage son.”
Silence.
Then, “Wherever you are, get the fuck out of there, Ally. Now.”
An order. A firm one.
And a surprising one.
I tore my eyes away from Darius’s son, stared at the steering wheel and focused all my attention on the phone.
“Why?” I asked.
“Just do it.”
“Why, Ren?” I pushed.
“I got shit to do. Can’t get away. Come to the office.”
“Why, Ren?” I snapped.
“Baby, I’m askin’ you, just do it.”
I lifted my head and looked down the street. Well down it, Darius’s son was now jogging and dribbling the ball.
Fuck.
Shit.
Fuck.
“I’ll come to your office,” I told Ren.
“See you soon, honey.”
“Later,” I replied, disconnected and started up my car
I gave one more look to the fast disappearing boy-man and one last look at the front door to Malia Clark’s house.
