The Scammer - 32
I pace around my room in fresh jeans and a T-shirt. Modest. Virtuous attire. I iced my face as much as possible, hoping the swelling would go down. My hair is a patchwork quilt of clumps that the only thing I could do is wash and wear it natural. Devonte breezes through the door, stoppin...
I pace around my room in fresh jeans and a T-shirt. Modest. Virtuous attire. I iced my face as much as possible, hoping the
swelling would go down. My hair is a patchwork quilt of clumps that the only thing I could do is wash and wear it natural.
Devonte breezes through the door, stopping to take me in.
“Hello Jordyn.”
“Um. Hey,” I mumble, voice cracking. “Would you like some tea?”
He smiles appreciatively and I know because he likes my curly ’fro.
“I . . . asked Vanessa to give us a moment,” he says, taking off his jacket, laying it over my chair. “So we can be alone.
Like I promised.”
I fold my hands, waiting. I’ve learned his habits, know his likes. Men are to speak first, women are only secondary in nature.
Principle number fifteen: Let the other person do a great deal of the talking.
He stalks forward. “‘Lions are not concerned with the opinions of sheep.’ Where did you hear that?”
“You’ve said it before. Once, when we were working on—”
“No I didn’t,” he snaps.
“Oh. Well, I guess I’ve heard it somewhere,” I say, fluttering about the room, pushing the chair into my desk, keeping my
back to him. “Maybe some white man stole it from you. But it sounds like something you’d say.”
I grip his jacket, taking in the scent, and can feel him watching my every move.
He grabs my wrist, pulling me close. “Why are you lying, Jordyn?”
My neck is on fire and I think of the way Nick avoids questions. “Can you tell me what it means?”
Devonte gives me a dead-eyed stare and I’m almost positive he can read my mind. He sits on my bed, patting the space next
to him. It takes me a moment to unfreeze my limbs to join him.
“It means,” he starts. “Kings weren’t meant to starve. They were meant for riches.”
Principle number eleven: Show respect. Never say, “You’re wrong.”
I pick a piece of lint off the bed. “Are you . . . a king?”
“No, love. I’m a God.”
The answer is so final and absolute, his inflated sense of self-importance is remarkable.
Devonte leans closer to me, heat radiating between us.
“I want you to be honest with me, Jordyn.”
I meet his gaze, pushing myself.
“I want you to be honest with me too,” I coo.
He smiles triumphantly. “I meant what I said . . . about you being different. You are different. I could sense that about
you from the moment we met. It’s why I fought for you. You don’t need to be a lawyer. You can be anything you want with me.
You don’t need your family holding you back. You have me to lift you up.”
I swallow hard, curling inward. He places a finger under my chin.
“I want to make you my queen. Put you above all the rest. Us together, with our family . . . the love between us could change
the world. Don’t you think?”
I bite my tongue, his touch revolting.
“I love you.” He laughs. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve said that in a long time.”
My head is spinning. “You . . . love me, but you let Kerry punch me that night?”
He shrugs, gently touching my hair in awe. “Some lessons need to be felt, not taught.”
“If you love me . . . then why did you send those girls to get me?”
He hesitates. “That . . . I didn’t do that.”
“I could’ve died. They cut my hair!”
“That wasn’t a call I made. I swear to you.” He frowns at the floor. “Anger always results in sloppiness.”
I take a quick glance at the computer on my desk, the screen black. “Did you mean what you said . . . about my writing?”
He brightens. “Yes. Yes, absolutely.”
Even as I sit here hating him with every fiber of my being, I ache to have this one morsel to be true.
“I need my credit cards. I need to buy a new wardrobe. They tore everything I had to shreds.”
He waves me off. “You don’t need those material things. You’ll start fresh, new.”
“I want to start new now. Can we go?” I ask, trying to persuade him out the door.
He smooths a hand down the back of my neck. “Love, you must practice patience. We just need to tie up a few things here. Then
we’ll go. Just you and me.”
He doesn’t sound like himself. His head is up in the clouds. Like . . . he’s really in love.
“Um. Okay. Where will we go?”
He pulls me tighter against him. “To Virginia, like I said. We’ll break ground on Emancipation. Become sovereign citizens.”
I pull back to look at him. “You’re . . . serious about that?”
His laugh is deep. “I’m serious about that like I’m serious about you. The land is in my name. Bought in cash.”
I feel rocked off my balance beam. Because it almost feels like he’s telling the truth. Maybe not everything out of his warped
mind is a lie.
Just like Loren said.
Devonte loops an arm around my waist, pulling me tight against his hip.
“This has all been very difficult for you. I understand. It’s easier to be led in the wrong direction than the right one.
The path to true enlightenment isn’t painless but worthwhile. You’ll see. You just give me what I need, I’ll give you what
you need.”
He bends down, kissing my cheek just as the front door creaks open. Devonte turns with a glowing smile that quickly drops
at the sight of three plainclothes police officers strolling into the room.
There’s no sense of urgency in the officers. He’s already been caught.
I pull the wire taped to my bra out of my shirt.
Devonte tracks the wires in disbelief. The officers are talking, searching his jacket, finding the credit cards that he took
out in my name. The ones that came in the mail that he never opened. The ones I slipped into his jacket.
Neither of us are listening to the detectives. Too busy glaring each other down. But then, suddenly, he smiles. It’s not a
sinister smile.
It’s a smile that says he’s won.