Shit.
Shit.
Shit!
He's been here the whole time. My father has been here the whole time. Snooping through Daniel's archives proved to be fruitful. My father has been under my nose this whole time!
Has he seen me before?
Have he and I crossed paths maybe?
God, what was he like? Was he short?
Well, I highly doubt that. I am at least six inches taller than my mother and three inches taller than Mona so maybe he's a giant. Maybe he's 6'0"!
Majestic in his western sepia glory (that's assuming that I got my skin tone from him).
I must call Walter!
I quickly skim through my contact list and dial immediately.
The ringing drones on in my ear, quite longer than usual. Walter is usually quick to answer the phone and let you know if he can stay longer on the line or not.
The ringing drones on and on once again until I hear a click.
Finally.
"I've been trying to call your ugly ass for a while now, what it do?"
The line is silent until stupor consumes my entire being. "Ugly? You hurt me, dolcezza."
I had royally and FBI-cally fucked up.
In disbelief, I tear the phone away from my ear and lock eyes with a name I hadn't quite prepared myself for.
Of course my dumbass had to dial Nathaniel DeLuca like the typical main character I am, of course!
"Me...me no ingles?"
"Allora parleremo italiano!"
My vagina had to be broken, there was just no other way to justify as to why I couldn't go weak for this man.
His voice is smooth, relaxing yet it doesn't seem to match the Italian speech I heard a man whimper while he was drilling a hole inside me five years ago.
Eureka!
That fucking warlock! He had to be responsible for this. He cast this weird spell on my body, him and his big head that was only bigger because he was in between my thighs and...and sucking my –
"Jaenelle? You're whispering something and I can't really hear it."
Listen to that! Even though he had no effect on me, I was still embarrassing myself. "Uhm, what gave my name away?"
He chuckles softly and I assume it's due to my voice pitching a few octaves higher than usual. "True Caller." Damnit. "I like it. Jaenelle. Beautiful name. So, lady with a beautiful name, why has it taken you so long to call me?"
I whip around just in time to hear Mona murmuring something in her sleep as she shifts into another position.
"I've...been busy," I say coolly, ignoring the sudden strain in my neck. I wish lying didn't have any physical effects on me.
"Guess I really am ugly, wow."
My eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as I rush to dispute that.
"No! That – I thought I was calling Walter! You're handsome, the hell? Like, your hair is so glossy and listen, sometimes I forget to lotion up my arms and your hair makes me want to dip my elbows in it."
He takes a moment to laugh lowly and I visibly relax, finding the sound rather tolerable. I liked it. "Say what? Lunch tomorrow?"
"What time?" my voice nearly faltered when I asked that but I held it together quite well.
"Around 11am, standard lunchtime. I'll be in front of the Pittsburgh Police Station a little before that. Addio, dolcezza."
And with that, he hung up.
I didn't even get to ask him how he knew where I worked. Then again, he didn't necessarily say which zone my station is so he probably didn't know everything about me.
Hm.
Jaenelle Kenya Marks going on a date, who would've thought?
Mona woke up a little into the evening and I had already prepared a basic spaghetti bolognaise for us. Walter and Blair were too busy to take me to go meet up with the man I believe is my father so that left only one option – Mona.
She was very happy to accompany me to meet him, provided that she drove my car and stayed outside so she wouldn't intrude. As soon as she agreed, I took his numbers off the email and texted him, asking him when and what time he would be available.
His answer was rather eager. He was ready to meet me the very next day and at a reasonable time before work, 9 am.
Did he just want to meet me and get it over with? Or was he also looking for a lost child and therefore so adamant to meet me so soon?
Desperation tends to push people to make decisions they never would've thought of taking.
"You good, Timmy Turner?" Mona asked.
It was the next day and the granola bar I had in the morning was a heavy block of cement in my stomach. I regretted eating it.
Dawn really came quick and before I knew it, Mona was taking the directions from Google Maps and pulled up in front of a regular tan townhouse. It barely – scratch that – it had no security around it. Not even a barbwire fence.
If he were my father, I vow to remove him from such harsh conditions and have him somewhere with security, warmth, love, and safety.
"I'll be fine," I finally tell Mona and her grip on the steering wheel loosens, relieving the pressure off her knuckles. "Betsy may be an old Beetle but I'm sure she can keep you warm while I'm gone."
Mona offers me a soft smile and I step out of my car, feeling a sudden breeze bite at my round cheeks before adjusting my glasses.
February had barely begun and the weather was already becoming unpleasant. Fortunately, I wore leg warmers underneath my black jeans and a knitted ivory jersey on top, my hair protected from the harsh elements by living its best life in a top knot bun (courtesy of Mona).
Hesitantly, I stalk up the perch and slide the mesh door open, revealing a second door that had a doorbell. With a huff, I ring the doorbell and hear a soft jazz tune chime through the house.
My dad likes jazz? So cool.
Heavy footfalls fill my ears and I straighten up, my chest puffed up with confidence. Maybe – just maybe – I wanted to cry due to feeling so overwhelmed but I couldn't allow it to get there. I had to get into control.
The door opens and my stance falters a little. This is not what I was expecting.
The man who stood before me...was nothing I had expected.
He rather fell short of my expectations – literally – standing nearly at my height or two centimeters taller than me, the most. His tawny complexion nor his swimmer's fit body were things I didn't seem to have inherited. One thing I was glad to have not potentially taken from him was his piercing silver gaze.
"Hi," I begin, sighing quietly. The man's gaze remains on me as I scramble to find my next word. "I'm Jae, I read your email and uh, I think you're my dad."
Kareem Smith, who happily introduced himself before inviting me into his house, poured me a cup of tea while his glass of brandy awaited him. He gave me the warm cup and I muttered a soft 'thank you' before setting it on the table. I could never drink scalding hot beverages so I usually leave them to cool down for a while before enjoying the taste without nursing a burnt tongue.
"You're a lot darker than I thought," Wait, what? I included my recent pictures and I never used SnapChat filters unless it was with Blair and Walter. "No biggie though."
He was wearing glasses so maybe he replied to my email without them off? I don't know. Some parents are blunt about a lot of things – my mother included – so this was probably him being blunt.
Yeah. My conscience supported me while nodding,
Wait, maybe I did get my weak eyesight from him. "So, how long have you been here? You at school? Working?"
He most definitely was handsome in his old days however, I failed to find our resemblance.
"I moved here after my degree so I've been here for two years I believe?" Yeah, I completed my degree in 2017 and I moved here a month after because Walter got me the job at the police station. "I enrolled into Clark Atlanta University so I could start specializing in forensics but I only do distance learning."
"Distance learning?" he echoes with brows raised slightly and I nod. "so, online schooling?"
"Yes but on a part-time basis while I work at the Pittsburgh police station."
"Hm," He finally says and I ignore the twisting in my abdomen – so he doesn't approve?
"What do you do?" I ask him while sitting up straight, the tightness in my stomach still didn't ease.
"Used to be a janitor for a nearby school back in the 80s then started pushing some shit on the side for some extra cash," I nod, resting my chin on the arm that was perched up on his russet leather couches. "Moved to New Orleans late 90s because I got in a little bit of trouble with the law. Late nineties, around 1997, I met a woman who I believe is your mother."
Story makes sense.
"Do you remember her name?"
Now, he swirls the amber liquid in his glass before taking a big gulp. Guess he needed the warmth. "Rosalina Mavericks."
The tall wall of hope I had up suddenly crumbled into nothing. This wasn't him. Fifth failed meeting since we started our little search, Jae.
He was so animated when he invited me into his house, as animated as the notes of jazz music. Excited, the word was excited. He was excited. He was probably also looking for his long-lost daughter and now we were both at a loss.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, straightening up from my position. "that is not my mother's name. I'm sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Smith."
I inch to rise only to feel a death grip on my wrist. Stunned, I whip my head to him and frown.
"Mr. Smith, what's going on?" the grip gets tighter and I hiss at the pain, wrestling to retrieve my wrist that might have blood flow cut quite soon. "Mr. Smith! What is going on?!"
"Shut up," He tells me, yanking me closer to him. The whiff of brandy from his mouth made me heave dryly and I shudder once an awful smile spans across his lips, barely touching his eyes. "aren't you pretty?"
My teeth clench together following his silver eyes hardening. "release me, right now."
"You got any tattoos? Piercings? Don't make me search for all those things myself."
"You've got –" I tug my hand back but to no success. This cannot be happening. "the nerve, old man. Release me, now or so help me –"
"What will you do?"
Instinctively, I archived some moisture from my throat and launched it straight into his face.
With a small chuckle, his hand crashes down on the side of my face and my body immediately weakens. My reaction time was slowed down significantly by the brutal attack and without having time to tend to the pang of pain reigning supreme over my body,
Kareem's hips straddle me and he delivers another blow to my face, this time undoubtedly splitting my bottom lip and casting my spectacles off my face.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit!
I couldn't allow myself to be taken advantage of or hurt whereas I still had plenty of fight in me. I should've brought my revolver but my desperation was almost tangible. My father was out there somewhere and I'll be damned if I allow this man to stop my plans of meeting him.
Briskly, I thrust my hips upwards and rattle his stance, leaving a blind spot to grab his arm. My uneven nails claw into the skin in seething desperation and with a loud growl, he attends to the wound.
The time is now.
My only time is now.
Red consumes my vision once fight or flight courses my bloodstream. I use my abdominal muscles to crunch up and slam my head straight into his nose, driving him to topple over onto his back. Waves of pain wash over my body and for a second, the room whirls around me. Since I hit soft tissue, he must've taken more of the impact compared to me.
"Bitch!" He splutters, groaning as he holds his crimson nose. "Fucking ugly bitch!"
A loud cry of his echoes throughout the townhouse once I ram my foot at the side of his head. I hated the fact that he still had the audacity to squirm even though blood was due to start flooding the contents inside his cranium.
I should've been careful.
Mona was quick to leave the car when I started lurching out. Who wouldn't? I was a sobbing mess with an aching cheek and didn't even attempt to stop crying once she held me in her arms.
We stay in that position until my body flinches in realization. We were still on this man's property and only the Lord knew when he'd gather full consciousness. Hell, I wasn't keen on staying to find out.
I drag my sister to the car and throw myself into my seat, her mirroring my movements soon after. She just drove. Away from him but with no destination in mind. How could she do that? Didn't she fear the unknown? What was to happen if we found ourselves on a freeway far away from my apartment?
"I didn't want to act up because he's an old man," I finally say while sliding my glasses onto my face, my voice hoarse from my sobbing. Damn, I hated sounding like this. "I told him that he made a mistake then – then he told me that I'd be stripped of my identity...fuck, he didn't have to put his hands on me, Mona."
My sister keeps her eyes on the road and sighs. "Probably took a chance on you because you want to find your dad so bad, Timmy Turner."
Was his back story even real?
Did he have a long-lost daughter out there?
"I have to report him. Please drop me off at the police station." It took a lot to get to that decision. I had a few minutes before work began but I couldn't do anything while I could feel the car spinning around me. That man needs to be arrested and meet his equals in prison. Had I not acted when I did, Mona and I could've been in danger.
Fuck.
I almost put Mona in danger.
"He knows your face, Jae. He can easily come for you later." Probably forgot to add that the justice system has failed black women and men countless times.
Jesus, she is far too calm for my liking. "Then what must I do?"
Mona takes a calculated breath and indicates to find the nearest off-ramp that will take us back home.
"I know a few people who might take care of him."
My body stiffens on its own accord as soon as I process her words. Take care of didn't mean taking him to a retirement home with his old self. I had read far too many crime novels to know exactly what she meant.
Question was, did I want to implicated in this whole thing?
I had my whole life ahead of me. I'm about to graduate my final year in specializing and I'm set to travel. I'm keen on taking the transfer to Japan after I find my father (I still have my spirit) and just beginning a beautiful life – a life that is solely steered by me and with what I want.
I could protect myself. If shit happened, I'd be able to shoot him right between the legs without thinking about it.
"That won't be necessary," I tell her, placing my hand on her thigh as I prepare my lie. "my face doesn't even hurt that much anymore, please take me to the station."
Her sigh was out of defeat rather than relief but I couldn't blame her. I was definitely going to have a busted lip and bruised cheeks later that will probably not compare to the raging headache threatening looming by my temples.
"You mind if I borrow your car, need to meet up with an old friend."
"Trevaughn?" I blurt out, only to regret it later.
Did he live rent-free in my frontal lobe? Why was it so quick to say his name?
"He's not my friend. I just met him in the club scene after high school." Okay, with that tone, I guess I won't bring him up ever again. "I have another friend though. He wants me to check out a studio not far from here."
My excitement was apparent. "You're making music again?"
Her lips twitch into a small smile and maybe it did want to reach her eyes, I'm not quite sure. "Maybe. I don't know. I'm just going to feel the space out honestly."
Only genuine anxiety for her music career could attest to that vague answer and I ran with it. My Mona was slowly coming back; I knew that for sure.
"Either way, I'm rooting for you," I tell her with a flaming bottom lip and numb cheeks.