The Scammer - 10

On Monday, Mercy is at the front desk in the FUSA office.

“Hey y’all,” I say as I enter, testing the waters, flashing a giant grin.

Principle number five: Smile.

“Hey,” Mercy says dryly without looking up from her phone. Brianna doesn’t speak at all.

They can’t still be upset about the party? Their sober thoughts must have caught up to them by now, telling them it was a

bad idea to take advantage of a drunk guy. If the shoe was on the other foot, Nick would’ve been arrested and canceled within

forty-eight hours. But their coldness speaks volumes.

Nick walks out of the office. I hadn’t seen him since he ran out of the suite. His eyes land on me, face blanching.

“Uh, Jordyn. Hey.”

“Hey?” I gulp, fidget awkwardly with my bag. How am I supposed to act around him? Do we even acknowledge what happened?

He points a thumb at the conference room. “Would you help me with expenses from homecoming tonight? I’m looking for a specific amount of savings and Neveah said you’re good with numbers.”

“Tonight?” He wants to be alone with me again? “Um. Yeah sure.”

Mercy snatches her bag under the table.

“Later,” she grumbles. She walks out of the office, shooting daggers with her eyes, Brianna following.

Nick frowns. “Something I missed?”

“Nope! Ready to start?”

Nick spreads out worksheets and invoices on the conference room table while I input them into the ledger. But whoever put

the ledger together before made a mess of it. I spend most of the evening recalculating and reinputting with one eye on the

computer and one eye on the wall clock.

“What’s up?”

Across the table, Nick stares, his eyebrow raised. I almost forgot he was there.

“Huh?”

“You keep looking at the clock. Got a hot date?”

I gulp. “No, just keeping track of the time. Don’t want to be out too late.”

“You got a curfew or something?”

Trying to keep it cool, I force a laugh. “Seriously? What’s with all the questions?”

“You don’t live with your parents anymore, Jordyn. You’re an adult. At college. You can stay out until the break of dawn if

you wanted to.”

I shrug. “Well, I have . . . other obligations.”

Devonte made it clear that he expected us back in the suite by eight every night. Women shouldn’t be out after dark without

a man supervising them. How do we expect to be wives if we can’t be ladies? How can we say we are committed to our community

if we’re not serious about our studies and unlearning our ways?

Dedication. Discipline. That’s how you succeed in the world.

So why am I still going to FUSA?

Guess I’m still holding on to a small part of me that feels this will help in the future. The one place I have to breathe

easy between classes and meals. Devonte is passionate but suffocating. Plus, his views on women seem a little archaic. Shouldn’t

he be empowering us, not taking power away?

Nick runs a hand through his hair. “Listen, I want to talk . . . about the other night.”

My throat tightens. I’ve been dreading this. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want anyone else to know.

“What about it?” I say quickly. “Nothing happened. Let’s just call it a day.”

He blows out some nervous air. “I know nothing happened between us but . . . I think I was drugged.”

I purse my lips. “That’s a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”

“Not on a college campus, no. But that’s not all. I don’t remember much, but the last thing I do remember is grabbing a cup

from you.”

“So you think I drugged you?” I snap.

He blanches, holding up a hand. “No! I think that whatever I was drugged with was actually meant for you.”

I stop for a moment to think, retracing my steps. I poured myself some juice and never left it unattended.

But . . . Devonte did hold it for me for a brief few seconds.

No . . . he wouldn’t.

Suddenly, I feel faint. Across the table, Nick watches me then nods, resolve settling. “So . . . should I call campus police

or go straight to the DC Police?”

The word police snaps me back to my senses. I sit up straight. “Do you have any idea what it’ll look like if the one lone white kid on a

Black campus starts accusing people of drugging him?”

The fact is a slow sinking ship and Nick deflates.

“Shit,” he mumbles, tossing his pen on the table.

If he contacts the police, they will start asking questions, tracing last steps, and that will lead to Devonte, throwing him

on their radar. It could be bad . . . for everyone.

“Just drop it,” I insist. “You don’t want that type of heat.”

He snarls in disgust. “Drop it? But what if it happens again? What if someone’s assaulted or taken advantage of?”

I shake my head. “I . . . I don’t know. But you need hard evidence before you start opening your mouth.”

“Maybe we should ask around,” he suggests. “See if anyone else had the same experience. Word of mouth, nothing official, will

keep people on their toes.”

I chuckle. “Once again . . . just you asking these questions is asking for trouble.”

“I rather get in trouble than let anyone get hurt! I would think you’d want other girls on campus to stay safe too.”

I swallow hard but remain silent, Devonte’s voice echoing.

You’re not a good friend.

“Fine! Just . . . be careful,” Nick fumes, snatching up his pen. “And if I didn’t say it before, thanks. I owe you one.”

I bite my lip, the shame sticky on my skin. It couldn’t be Devonte, he has no reason to drug me, I would do anything he asks.

So why can’t I shake the feeling that that night he had so much more in store for me?

I fly through the lobby of the Rock, pushing the elevator button. I’m thirty minutes past curfew. I don’t want to make him

mad again. Or not mad, maybe disappointed. And the looks of judgment from the other girls . . . I can’t go through that again.

Exhausted, I push open the door to the suite and the handle hits someone in the back, the door only opening a crack.

What the . . .

Legacy peers out, spots me, and nods, allowing me in, as if he was club security.

There are students, most I’ve never seen before, packed in the living room scattered about, leaning against the stove, one

even sitting on the toilet. Maybe thirty people in total.

All there to listen to Devonte.

“I’m afraid to tell you the nasty truth,” Devonte says as he walks in a circle, hands behind his back. “That officer that killed that Black man in cold blood, he’ll be acquitted. They’re always acquitted. When the police police themselves, it’s always the same outcome.”

Murmurs erupt.

“See how they scooped up all those protesters? Sprayed them down like dogs!”

“Some bullshit!” someone shouts.

“It is, brother. But just because we live in the system doesn’t mean we have to be another sheep in the system. There is another

way.” He taps his temple. “Knowledge of self.”

He goes on, preaching from an invisible pulpit. Everyone is transfixed, eyes locked in rapture.

“What you got to remember is your roots! Your power. That’s how you separate yourself. Why would you tell a white man your

plans when it’s in their DNA to sabotage you, conquer you, destroy you. Hell, why would you allow the white man into your

sacred space, around your women? That’s like letting a wolf sleep in a hen house.”

The air in the room is electric as everyone whispers to one another. In the corner, Vanessa nods eagerly. I can’t tell if

this is new to her or she’s resoaking it all up like a sponge.

Legacy whispers into my ear, “Isn’t this dope? Everyone’s waking up!”

I lean back against the sink full of dishes, listening as Devonte casts his magical spell, conjuring new admirers, controlling

a room without ever raising his voice.