Caught In The Act
1316 Words
Jalen
.....
I held my breath, my jaw dropped and refused to come back up. A cold tear ball escaped a pore in my forehead, sending shockwaves across my body as it rolled down my face.
I wasn't ready. Not mentally. Not emotionally. And definitely not realistically.
"Boy, I asked you a question," Nyla asked again with a frown. She tilted her head to meet my face, her golden hoop earrings swinging like they also had something to say. "What is going on? Did they start again?"
I finally released my breath and started toying with the hem of my hoodie, nervously, like it would somehow ease the obvious tension.
"It's— it's nothing, Nyla," I blurted quickly. "Something probably broke again. This house is haunted. It's so old and cooked, I hope it doesn't collapse with us in it."
She squinted at me, unconvinced. Her gaze lingered for seconds, but she didn't press further. She rolled her eyes and waved her hand in the air, the fresh purple gel polish catching the dim light.
"As I was saying, before I got interrupted by your haunted house," she mocked, pressing her lips that was painted deep plum. "I got a DM last week from this salon in the Bronx. Their works are fire, but they struggle with their reach. And that's where I come in."
"Wait. Aren't you struggling too?" I cut in, trying to hide the mockery in my tone.
"Shut up big head, and let me finish!" She hissed, batting those eyelashes that looked like they could lift her off the ground if she blinked fast enough. "You're not a content creator, so let me tell you how it works. This is a collaboration. Real major. I'm talking free hair-dos, nails, lashes and even make-up. All I have to do is model for them, shoot ads and give them promo. I know I'm not getting paid and all, but I have faith in—"
A thud came from the wardrobe.
This one was louder. it sounded less like something breaking, and more like a human... trapped in a small, dark closet.
Nyla shot me a wicked look and jumped off the bed at once.
"Okay, Jalen. No! That wasn't the sound of something breaking, and I swear to God, if you tell me more lies about f*****g ghosts... Are you going to tell me who, or what you have in your wardrobe, or should I find out myself, and tell your mama too?"
My stomach rumbled. I tried to think fast as always, but all my braincells seemed to be trapped in the wardrobe with Kevin. She didn't sit around waiting for my reply either. She muttered something that faded into the background of my thoughts and charged straight for the wardrobe.
My thoughts were in shambles, but in that split second, I couldn't help but admire my bestfriend in all her swag. Colorful lengthy braids, a two piece set that hugged her curves like a second skin, designer shoe and bag, and her glassy skin that stayed moisturized. Even though she hadn't attained the level of success she wanted as an influencer, she never failed to look the part.
She was almost at the wardrobe when i snapped back to reality. I ran past her with a speed fueled by fear and desperation. In no time, I was in front of her like a linebacker, blocking the wardrobe with my arms spread.
"Wait, Nyla. Stop!"
She raised her perfectly carved brows. "Oh, you're tryna save the ghosts now?"
"I—I'll explain, I swear. Just don't open the door please."
Her eyes narrowed to my thighs. The hoodie was barely doing its job. Before I knew it, she shoved me—not hard, but fast. I couldn't fight back to my full capacity because... well, I'd end up butt naked, and knowing Nyla like I did, I wouldn't hear the last of it. Any more struggle, and I would've handed her an exclusive ticket to a full-frontal show.
With another solid tug from her, I gave way and she pulled the door open.
Kevin was curled up, shirtless in a corner, drenched in sweat, and shaking like a raccoon caught mid-heist. I'd have never imagined that the tough gangster Id known for a week now, could be so scared and fragile.
He held his sneakers and his chain like a guilty badge. Immediately the light met his face, he threw them aside and covered his face, his other hand reaching for his ski mask.
"I knew it!" Nyla gasped. "Who the f**k is this, Jalen?"
"Wait, Nyla, chill. He’s not dangerous!" I blurted, stepping between them again. "He’s just… he’s a friend, okay."
Kevin yanked his ski mask on without uttering a word. His fists and jaw clenched so tight it could crack a bottle cap.
"I thought you said this was gonna be clean?" he muttered to me, his frustrated voice muffled through the fabric. "You said you had it all handled. What if she snitches? f**k this, man!" He punched the air.
"—I do! I did! I mean, I thought I did—" I stammered, my heart sinking as he stepped closer to me. "She won't snitch, I promise. She's cool."
He shook his head, wore his sneakers, threw his chain over his neck, and walked past us like a pissed-off superhero leaving a crime scene.
"Man, f**k y'all. This s**t's not tight," he cursed as he got to the door, venom dripping in every word. "If any of this gets out, just get ready, cuz I promise I'll come visiting again. And that time, it won't be sweet."
The door slammed behind him so hard it rattled the windows. The silence that followed was deafening and suffocating.
A Long, sharp, and awkward silence.
"So uhm... You wanna explain what the f**k that was?" Her voice was softer now and laced with concern. She didn’t look mad. Just sad and concerned.
I dropped onto the bed, hoodie riding up, but I didn’t even care anymore. My eyes burned and my throat tightened, a wave of clarity and self disgust washing over me.
"I just…" I started, but my voice cracked. I couldn't find words I looked away, blinking hard against tears. "I needed it. I needed to feel something. Anything."
Nyla sat down beside me. Her hand found mine, fingers warm and steady.
"I understand you. I really do," she whispered. "But don’t ever feel like you have to go through this s**t alone."
I nodded, silent tears slipping down my cheek. I felt embarrassed. Exposed. But also weirdly relieved. I'd promised her that I would stop hooking up with randoms, but it was too hard a promise to keep.
After a moment, she pulled me into a warm hug. A real one. The kind that didn’t need words.
"I don’t care who you’re messing around with," she muttered. "But you have to be careful. Like I'll always say, you deserve someone who wants to be with you for you. Not just some bum who comes over when it’s convenient and hides in your closet when things get real."
I chuckled through the tears. "Thanks Nyla. I love you."
"You have terrible taste in men by the way," she smirked. "I wouldn't touch that man with a ten foot pole even if I was getting paid. But it's not like you had options, so I'll let it slide."
That made me laugh harder, and it felt good. Like breathing after holding it in for too long. It was always like that with her.
A few minutes passed before Nyla pulled back and wiped a smudge of mascara off her face. Then she went back to her default setting. Her eyes lit up like she’d just remembered something epic.
"Oh! Right! I almost forgot. I have good news."
- Writer
