Good.
I grab my bike just as my phone buzzes. I smirk, already knowing what it is. Right after that fake-ass news hit the airwaves, Bowie’s post about Nic started blowing up. Only it wasn’t leads. The trolls came out in full force. People with no profile pics calling Nic ghetto . . . or worse. Folks posting phony stories about seeing Nic and Kenny strung out together. These assholes even had the nerve to start tagging me in their insults—hence, my buzzing phone. I finally cut off my alerts and push my bike out the door.
Now here I am. Camped out behind a tree in front of Javon’s building, waiting for him to make his next move. His Dodge Charger is parked in its usual spot, so I know he’s still here. Slim and Quan aren’t posted on the stoop. With Javon being released from the police and all today, he probably thinks he needs to lay low for a bit.
But I know Javon. Or at least I know Javon through Nic. He’s too antsy to stay in one place for too long, especially when he feels the heat on him. It’s just a matter of time before he cracks up and does something stupid. He might’ve gotten over with the cops again, but he’s not pulling the wool over my eyes. He’s going to lead me right to Nic.
I glance at the clock on my phone. It’s after ten. I’ve already been out here over an hour and Javon hasn’t as much as cut on his bedroom light. What the hell could he be doing? Riley would have something witty to say about the possibilities. Hell, Riley would find some clever way to get into Javon’s building to get answers, like dressing up as someone from DoorDash or something. I pull up my contacts and my thumb hovers over her name. I wonder if she saw that trash on the news today. I wonder if she thinks differently about me or my family. Even if her parents feel validated, she wouldn’t believe that nonsense. Right? Maybe I should call her just to be sure . . .
There’s a loud clatter as the front door of Javon’s building flies open, knocks against the brick. I duck farther behind the tree as Javon scurries down the steps of the stoop, face all twisted like somebody’s about to get the ass whooping of a lifetime. You’d think a man who got off scot-free for murdering his best friend would be happier—unless he feels like the walls are closing in on him.
He hops in his car and speeds off. I hop onto my bike and take off after him. I may not have an engine, but the steam in my head is enough to keep me going.
I died about five minutes into chasing after Javon with my bike. Thankfully, I had enough strength in my lungs to order an Uber when Javon stopped to gas up his ride. I type a random destination in and get the driver to meet me across the street from the gas station. I tell him to follow Javon. That he’s my friend and I’m worried. I’ll change the route and pay him for wherever we end up. The driver nods and does what he’s told. As long as he gets paid, he’d follow Javon to Arizona. Hopefully it won’t cost me that much.
Javon zigzags through lanes, floors it on yellow lights. Only pausing at stop signs. It’s like he doesn’t care that the cops have their eyes on him. He’s a man on a mission, but so am I. And so apparently is Yusef, my Uber driver, who keeps up with Javon as if he reenacts car chases as a side gig.
We reach the outskirts of uptown Newport News—closer to the Yorktown or Williamsburg area of the city lines. The part of Newport News where the houses get bigger, the cars get sleeker, and the residents get whiter. Javon finally turns into a neighborhood where a wrought iron gate holds up a sign in fancy cursive lettering: Feather Fork Homes. Feather Fork? Why does that sound familiar?
“I’ll take it from here,” I say to Yusef from the back seat.
“You sure? I don’t think he’s spotted me yet.” Yusef’s eyes dance in the rearview mirror. I guess I’m the highlight of his evening, but his bright yellow Toyota doesn’t necessarily bleed into the night. If I needed to see what Javon was up to, I had to be stealthier.
Yusef pulls up alongside a curb and I yank my bike out of his trunk. Take off behind Javon before my ass is even on the seat. He finally slows down a bit and my legs thank him for the break. I ease up on them, make sure to keep a safe distance so he won’t spot me. Javon turns down one more street until he reaches a cul-de-sac, pulls his car alongside the curb of the house on the end. I park my bike behind an SUV about half a block away. Massage my legs a bit while I wait on Javon’s next move.
Javon doesn’t leave the car. Just flicks on his interior light as he punches something furiously into his phone. I glance over at the house and take it all in. Columns near the front entrance. Wooden stairs leading to a second-floor deck at the side of the house. A birdhouse in the front yard in the same style as the main home. I suck in a breath. I know exactly where we are. I rode with MiMi over here a few times before, picking up a reluctant Nicole after not telling MiMi she decided to spend the night.
The front door opens and Sterling spills out of the house, wearing a sweatshirt, tiny cotton shorts, and some fuzzy bedroom slippers. I duck lower as she looks around the neighborhood. Finally, her eyes laser in on Javon’s car.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, flailing her arms behind her toward her house.
“Get your ass in here!” Javon barks from inside the car. Sterling folds her arms across her chest and holds her head up high, just like a blonde girl that’s been handed everything in her life. Javon leans forward and pushes open the passenger door. Sterling peeks back at her house again, then sighs and enters the car, closing the door timidly behind her.
Javon’s arms thrash around as he says whatever he says to Sterling. Her arms respond in the same fervor, going at it in some manic dance battle. I don’t get it. Why the hell is Javon so pissed at Sterling? Sterling’s tagged along with Nic to a few of his parties or whatever, but Nic never mentioned them saying more than two words to each other. Almost like they had some unspoken agreement that they only tolerated each other because of Nic. Just like me and Javon.
Javon leans over and gets right in Sterling’s face. His words come out more hushed, but his anger hasn’t muted. I can tell by the way his head seems to bob after every other word. I need to get closer. I have to find out what’s going on. If Nic is the only thing these two have in common, there’s only one thing they both could be arguing about right now—and that’s wherever the hell Nic could be.
I peel off my bike, squat down real low even though my quads scream at me. I do some strange duck shuffle toward the back of Javon’s car, keeping my head down so I can’t be spotted in Javon’s rearview mirror.
“I know, Von,” I think I hear Sterling say. Von? That sounds rather friendly for people that were just acquaintances. “You really think I’m that stupid?”
I can’t make out what Javon says, but by Sterling’s gasp, I’m guessing the answer is yeah. He thinks she’s pretty damn stupid.
“I can’t believe you,” Sterling continues. Thankfully this girl hasn’t learned the art of whispering. “After all this, you really think that about me?”
Javon makes a noise. A cough. A scoff, maybe? Damn, where’s Riley when I need her? She’d MacGyver her way into picking up sound from Javon’s end. Maybe if I called him, he’d pick up. Be too pissed to hang up the phone on me and I could catch the rest of the action. Wait, did I even have Javon’s number?