Game On (19 page)

30

SAMANTHA

 

“Y
ou were great dancing out there on the stage, baby girl,” Sean Desmond said to Samantha as the two sat in his Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead coupe. The boy was totally fried, his breath dangerously crossing the line by smelling like dog doodie and liquor. “All I could think about when I saw you out there on that stage moving your body was that I wanted you. We've been dating for a long time, how's about we take it up to the next level.”

Samantha thought Sean was delusional if he thought that forcing her into being at his side by threatening her parents was the same as dating. But she was all by herself with him and didn't want to give him any reason to go maniac on her.

Against Samantha's many pleas not to drive while intoxicated, a drunken Sean had ignored her and drove to Belle Isle State Park after the helicopter ride and dinner. They were parked on a secluded road, surrounded by woodland areas—no lamppost on this stretch. Other than the car's interior lighting, it was totally dark. Bone-chilling winds were blowing hard and whipping, whispering like the restless spirits of lost souls. The frozen tree branches clanked together, sounding more like the bones of dancing skeletons.

Samantha was having trouble sitting still. The whole vibe wasn't right and she knew that being alone with a liquored-up Sean could lead to absolute terror. She wanted to call her father and tell him to come get her. But there was no telling what the consequences of her action would be. The death of one, if not both parents, would surely leave her wearing a straitjacket and bouncing off a padded cell in a mental ward at a state hospital. And she wouldn't risk their lives. So she continued to remain calm and play along. Her nerves were riding high in her throat. Sean trying to do something she didn't want was looking like a real possibility. He was so drunk that his head was clumsily flipping from one side to the other. His eyes were bloodshot and highlighted by pure evil. Samantha couldn't look at them, which is why she kept looking for an escape route.

“What's the matter?” Sean reached into the center console and pulled out a few peppermints and a small bottle of eye drops. “Cat got your tongue?” He pulled down his visor and flicked up the cover of the vanity mirror. Those lights instantly activated. Sean dropped the liquid into both eyes and blinked rapidly. He then unwrapped and chewed the mints.

Samantha was trying anything to keep his mind busy. “So where are your two henchmen?”

He crunched the candy. “Gave them the night off. I'm chillin' with my snuggle bunny and don't need any distractions”—he gave Samantha a mischievous look—“if you know what I mean.”

That was it. It was time for Samantha to go. “I don't feel comfortable and I'm ready to go home, please,” she said to him and carefully watched his reaction.

He got physical with her by grabbing her left shoulder. “You are going to give me what I want tonight!” he shouted, teeth gritted. He shook her. “Stop acting like you're not with it and give it to me.”

“Sean, stop!” Samantha screamed, trying to pull away, but he was just too strong. The girl was in a no-win situation. Judging by this dude's muscular shoulders and well-chiseled chest, he could bench press two Smart cars. So he wouldn't have a problem with physically overpowering her if a scuffle broke out. She had to think fast.

With his right hand he was ripping at the neck of her sweater.

“Sean, how are you going to do this?” she said, struggling with him. “We've been friends since we were kids.”

Sean's face was contorted with a selfish resolve. The boy wasn't trying to hear nothing. She had to outsmart him. There was no matching his strength. Samantha yelled out, “How can I do anything with you and you been doing it to my friend, Tracy?”

It wasn't her best, but the ruse caused him to release her. Long enough for Samantha to grab her coat and slip out the car door. Her heart was pounding as the wind wrapped her up in its freezing tentacles. She struggled to run while trying to put on her jacket.

“Get back in this car!” Sean roared. He quickly started the engine of the four-hundred-thousand-dollar chariot.

The headlights brightened the scene and picked up Samantha, running down the street and fighting to get her left arm into the sleeve. She hadn't gotten too far when he put the car in drive and slowly started after her, almost like he was stalking her, similar to a lion playing with its food before going for the kill. Sean caught up with her and lightly tapped her legs with the bumper, not to hurt her, but just enough to knock her off balance and send her to the pavement.

Samantha was down but she wouldn't stay that way. Adrenaline was pumping and she was determined that her life wouldn't end like this. She could hear the car door open and it terrified her. Sean had lost his mind and there was no telling what he had planned. He was a professional baseball player known for his brilliant speed. There was no way she was going to beat him in a footrace. Her only chance—she gulped—was to go off the road and take to the woods. Everything outside of the headlights was cloaked in spooky darkness. This was the only way. So Samantha got up and staggered off into the night. She felt along the cold trunks of trees to keep from running into them. How could she have come to this? A couple hours ago she'd been somewhere warm, a place where her phenomenal dancing skills had earned her a standing ovation. Now here she was, running through a wooded area like a screaming white girl in a horror movie trying to get away from some chainsaw-wielding serial killer wearing a hockey mask.

It was so dark out. Samantha had to resist the urge to grab her cell phone and hit the flashlight app to see. But the light would give away her location. As she moved along the frozen leaf litter, touching and feeling, she could hear Sean Desmond somewhere behind her, cussing and screaming for her to come out.

Seconds later, she heard him yell, “I was just playing around with you. Come on back so I can take you home.”

She wasn't buying it, though. She kept on moving with no idea where she was headed. It was freezing out. But once she arrived in a safe area, Samantha would call for help.

31

XAVIER

 

T
hough it hadn't come easy, Xavier couldn't believe he was driving again. His stomach was in knots, palms dripped with perspiration, and he frequently checked the rearview and side mirrors to see if he was being tailed, sometimes getting confused and not knowing if he was driving fast enough or slow enough in certain areas. A couple of times he almost pulled over to throw up. He flinched at traffic lights whenever a motorist pulled alongside his new car. Xavier had almost given in to anxiety and parallel parked on the street. The boy had become so overwhelmed by emotion that he was going to get out of the car and start walking.

As he drove through the night in silence, the dude was straight-up steaming. Couldn't believe that his father, a former dope-game legend, an OG who had spent a decent piece of his life in lockup, didn't have the marbles to stand up to his trout-mouth girlfriend. The disappointment Xavier was experiencing was beyond any that he'd ever felt. After all, he'd been waiting for a long time to have a decent relationship with his father—a long time! And here Roxanne was looking to tear it down overnight. Noah had been living his life by the Bible since he was released from prison.

Shame on him if he can't recognize the serpent slithering in the garden,
Xavier thought. Roxanne was a parasite that was looking to get him kicked out of the crib and then move in with her offspring and nest. Alfonso was still an impressionable kid who could be molded and shaped. The boy wouldn't cause any trouble. Would fit into her world perfectly. Roxanne was a total trip. She wasn't slick as she thought. The bimbo had had babies by two trifling men that had never laid eyes on them. The chick wanted a daddy for her boys, plain and simple. And her fake butt didn't want Xavier gumming up the works.

It was Christmas morning and it seemed that drama was the only gift he'd received so far. He still couldn't believe that the lady had gone through all the trouble of wrapping up a “get out of jail free” card to give to him. What respectable grown person would stoop so low as to do something like that? Xavier had to admit that if his mother Ne Ne was out of prison, he'd have turned her loose on Roxanne. Let his old girl go straight Roughneck Santa with brass knuckles on Ms. Hudson and ring the heffa's jingle bells.

He was mentally spent, tired from everything he'd gone through. Didn't know if he had enough to get through to the graduation ceremony. Felt like just walking away from everything and everyone and disappearing for good.

To add matters worse, Xavier's shoulder started stiffening, and pain shot through it. He winced and tried to rub the agony away. Because he hadn't been behind the wheel since the shooting, there hadn't been any way to test the shoulder to see how much it would tolerate the steering wheel. The surgeon had told him that he would more than likely have trouble the rest of his life. But he'd taken that bit of information like a champ, because, after all, anything beat being dead. The good Lord had spared his life, and he was grateful.

With a full tank of gas Xavier had planned to drive as long as he could. Going back to the crib wouldn't be an option. Nobody would have a Merry Christmas if he went back. And that sucked. Before Roxanne's stupidity he'd had a nice little writing flow, too. He couldn't believe that he was out at this time of morning when he should've been home working hard on his essay. Two papers were due in the span of three months, and they both had to be stellar. The pressure was on and there was absolutely no turning back.

Suddenly, something caught his attention in the rearview mirror.

Nah,
Xavier thought.
Can't be.
A damn yellow cab was about ten car lengths behind him. Was it his paranoia, or did it seem like lately, yellow cabs were following him? His nerves were on edge. There had been one attempt on his life and he was praying to God that there wouldn't be another.

Xavier's cell phone started ringing. He didn't recognize the number. Never one to shy away from the unknown, he picked up and got the shock of his life.

32

SAMANTHA

 

S
amantha was cold and scared. The temperature seemed to be dropping and her body was feeling it. Her fingers and toes were tingling. Her teeth were chattering. Acknowledging that she couldn't do anything on her own, Samantha looked up at the dark, starless sky and thanked God for directing her out of that woodland maze. Ten minutes ago she'd emerged somewhere by the zoo. She'd walked over by the aquarium until she could no longer continue and sat down on the edge of a very large fountain. Samantha was completely exhausted. The fear she felt only added to the immense anxiety coursing through her body.

She'd called the one person she could truly trust. And if she had to make another, it wasn't going to happen. The battery was dead. Besides, her fingers were so cold that she thought they'd burst behind any further movement. Tears wanted to fall as she waited for her ride to pull up, but she held tight. There were dozens upon dozens of people she could've called, but only one name fit the bill.

Samantha climbed into Xavier's car right away. They drove off and didn't waste any time leaving Belle Isle. This was the first time that she could sit and process everything. It was truly hard to believe that the boy she'd grown up with had tried to sexually assault her. The thought of her running through the woods for her life was enough to bring the tears. Samantha put both hands up to her face and cried her eyes out. The stress of everything that Sean Desmond had put her through was coming out. She knew Xavier wanted to ask questions but kept quiet. He knew her. Once she'd let it all out Samantha would be ready to talk.

“I guess you want to know what I was doing at Belle Isle this time of morning,” Samantha said tearfully.

Xavier drove up Jefferson Avenue in light traffic with his eyes darting, constantly monitoring the rearview and side mirrors. “Sam, that's your business. You don't have to—”

Samantha threw up a hand. “Please, Xavier, let me talk.”

Xavier made a left turn onto the service drive. He then rode the ramp onto I-75 north.

Samantha didn't know if she was in denial. She kept telling herself that it didn't happen. That that monster named Sean Desmond had been a nightmare. She tried to explain, but the painful episode was hard to put into words. As if telling the boy would be a surefire admission of weakness. A few more tears dropped and she wiped them away with the back of her sleeve.

“Sean . . .” she tried to say but broke down into more tears.

The anger on Xavier's face was visible.

Samantha composed herself. “I think he was going to try to rape me.”

“Sam, did you call the police and report him?”

“No,” she said, almost whispering. “After I got away, you were the first person I called.”

“So because you don't wanna rock your daddy's businesses with a scandal, you're gonna let this bum get away?”

“Xavier, please. Do you know how big this scandal will be if I report this? Especially with Sean being who he is. Media will be all over my home and pestering my daddy's business associates. It wouldn't take too long before they start pulling out.”

After driving around for fifteen minutes Samantha's hands and toes had warmed up. Her parents had to be going nuts right now. They'd called her twice before her phone had died. And now every phone call would go straight to voice mail. She was way past curfew, and knowing her parents like she did, they'd probably filed a missing persons report by now.

Xavier took 75 to Davison East. He checked the rearview, activated his right turn signal, and took the Woodward exit.

Xavier said, “Sam, you want me to go and whup up on his head?”

Samantha turned to Xavier with a worried look. “He threatened to hurt my parents if I said something to anybody.”

“Well, you ain't gotta worry about that anymore, Sam. I got you, you feel me? Nobody's gonna get after you on my watch.”

This was the first time Samantha looked into Xavier's face since she'd gotten into the car. He didn't have that usual fire burning inside. It led her to ask, “Xavier, are you all right?”

“Nothing I can't handle, Sam.” He let out a deep sigh. “For now, we gotta get this ninja off your back.” Xavier headed north on Woodward.

“I'm scared,” Samantha admitted. “For my parents.”

“Don't worry about nothing, Sam. I'm here, you feel me? We'll work this thing out. Trust me.”

In spite of the circumstances, Samantha found herself smiling. She thought she'd never hear Xavier's “you feel me?” catchphrase again. She looked at the street. “Where are we going?”

“Sam, I'm taking you home. Your folks have to be worried to death.”

She looked out the window as they passed through Detroit, watching crumbling, dilapidated, spray-paint-covered buildings turn into sparkling, well-kept ones the farther they traveled outside of the city.

“How are you going to explain getting home”—he nodded to the dashboard clock—“at 2:55 to your parents?”

“I'll think of something.”

Samantha had missed her intelligent roughneck. Loved how he took control of the situation and made her feel safe.

“Aren't you going to say I told you so?” Samantha asked.

“No, because Lord knows I've made my fair share of bad decisions over the last three years. None of us are perfect, Sam.”

Samantha was happy that Xavier was back in her life, but worried about him at the same time. The boy looked totally exhausted. His eyes were small and red. He had a slouching posture of somebody that needed serious rest. And on top of it all, he kept his eyes glued to the rearview mirror, as if he expected to be ambushed from behind. Samantha felt bad that she was dropping her drama on him. Something clearly was going on inside his head. But she was optimistic. Samantha knew that by working together, they would both find a way out of their individual hells.