Page 25

25

Ace

I stand at the site, watching the morning sun bounce off the steel beams as my team finalizes the concrete pours for the last set of piers. We’re ahead of schedule, under budget, and the city inspectors have barely found anything to nitpick.

It’s coming together.

The final tensioning of the cables will happen next week. After that, load testing. We ran the models already, and everything checked out.

I feel good as hell.

Even my team is in sync. They’re down there talking my language, their voices carrying over the hum of the equipment.

“Post-tensioning’s holding at spec,” Jamal says, double-checking a set of numbers on his tablet. “We’re good.”

“Nice,” I say. “What about the deck segments?”

“Pour’s almost done,” he says. “And curing’s on track.”

I nod, surveying the site, feeling that deep satisfaction that comes with doing shit right. No shortcuts. No guessing. No wishful thinking. Just math, planning, and execution. Fucking science .

That’s the part I’m good at.

It’s the other shit that fucks me up.

Jamal grins. “Tell me this ain’t a fuckin’ masterpiece, Ace.”

I smirk, dragging a hand over my goatee. “I mean, yeah. We’re rollin’. We’ll see after the final inspection.”

He laughs. “Yeah, alright. I know how you are.”

I shrug and pull my phone out of my pocket as I walk back into my trailer. Raya left me a voicemail last night after she got home, squealing about her presents.

I wonder if she’s had time to think about whether or not I came inside the house.

She answers on the first ring.

“You know you’re getting thee sloppiest head you’ve ever had, right?”

I laugh, closing the trailer door behind me. “I take it that means you like your stuff.”

“I told you, I love it.” She pauses. “Thank you, baby. I feel so spoiled with you.”

“As you should.” I take a seat behind my desk, stretching my legs out in front of me. “But we need to talk.”

She sighs on the other end. “You met my dad.”

“Mm hm.”

“What do you wanna know?”

I scrub a hand down my face, feeling like I’ve been here before. But since this shit ain’t an exact science, I swallow my pride and irritation and say, “I wanna know why you didn’t tell me.”

She hesitates. “It’s not something I like talking about. I guess I figured I’d get around to it eventually if y’all ever met.”

“If?”

“I mean…” she trails off. “He’s really sick, Ace. He might not…you know.”

“Ain’t that even more of a reason to say something? I’d like to think you would want me to be there for you.”

“I would,” she says. “And I know you would, because you’re a good man. That’s why I’m with you.”

“And why am I with you ?” I say before I can stop it.

She’s quiet for a while before she says, “What do you mean?” in a small voice. The smallest voice I’ve ever heard come out of her.

“You know what I mean,” I say. “You don’t tell me shit. You hide shit. You keep me at a distance. That shit is getting old, Raya.”

She breathes in deep. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re different from every other woman I’ve ever known, but…that might not be enough anymore.”

Time passes slowly. She’s so quiet over there, I’m tempted to believe she hung up. Then I hear her, even quieter than before.

“I don’t wanna lose you, Ace. I can’t.”

I open my mouth to speak, but the words get stuck in my throat. I feel like her father, strangled into silence by something I can’t name. So instead, I tell her, “I’ll call you later,” and hang up, ending the torture for both of us.

My phone buzzes.

It’s my mama in the family group chat. I texted them an article the Decatur Daily wrote on the bridge. My picture was front and center.

I’m not one for the spotlight, but the piece was really good, diving into my background and why I was chosen to head up the project.

Gifted and talented. STEM summer camps. Honored as a teenager by the National Society of Black Engineers. Seven-fifty on my math SAT. Full ride to Tech. Hired at Blackmon Engineering Group right out of undergrad. Worked full time while getting my master’s. Reading it, I thought to myself, S elf? You’re pretty fucking impressive.

I open the chat, eager to see what my mama has to say.

Ma

That’s a really nice picture of you

I set my phone facedown on the desk and open my laptop, unsure of why I expected anything other than what I just got.

It’s all good.

Bigger fish to fry.

I spend the next half hour doing research on a most unscientific subject: Raya Ashford.

The woman is an enigma, or maybe I’m just not good at researching people. The only thing I manage to find is a tag on a Facebook post from the daycare she works at from two years ago. A holiday play the kids put on.

Alright. Time to pivot.

Raymond Ashford is just as elusive. I only know his name because Tori said it in conversation. She’s almost as guarded as Raya, but I managed to glean a few relevant data points.

Here we go.

An old article in an employee archive.

Raymond Ashford Retires from Delta Air Lines Following Tragic Accident.

I lean in and click.

The article is vague as hell—no details, just the standard corporate boilerplate. Dedicated employee, decades of service, stepping down due to unforeseen circumstances. Tragic accident is mentioned once, but it doesn’t say what it was.

Maybe something at work.

I wonder if I can get into OSHAs records.

Before I can spiral, my phone buzzes again.

Raya

OMG! I’m so proud of you, babe! I’m just now getting a chance to sit and read this thing, and I have literal tears in my eyes. They really captured your passion and your brilliance. I’m in awe of you, baby. I really am. And I feel so lucky to be your lady. You are a KING! As long as I’m around, your crown will always shine

I read it. Smile. Read it again.

Fuck.

I read that shit one more time, then close out of my texts just as Javon rings through.

I’m popular today.

“What’s up?” I answer.

He doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“Ayo, what’s the deal with the teacher chick?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“The chick you had me asking around about. Raya. You sure she’s a teacher?”

My shoulders tense. “…Yeah.”

“Well, I can’t find shit.”

I sit back in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you mean you can’t find shit?”

“I mean, I’ve checked the state certification databases. No license. No records. Nothing under her name or any variation of it.”

My grip on the phone tightens.

It’s possible I misunderstood her. Or maybe I assumed she’d already gotten licensed. You have to do that to even find a job.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I mutter. “Are you sure you looked for the right person? She graduated from Spelman.”

Javon lets out a low whistle. “Yeah. About that. Man, I hate to break it to you, but there’s no record of that, either.”

My blood runs cold, rushing through my head like a raging river.

“That can’t be right.”

“I triple checked. Unless she’s using a different name, she never got certified, never taught in a school, and she didn’t graduate from Spelman. No record of her at all in the alumni directory.” He pauses. “Sorry, bruh.”

I run a hand down my face, breathing slow, measured. Trying not to let my temper flare.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you might wanna ask her directly. I know you like her, but…” he trails off, exhaling loudly. “She’s lying to you. Straight up.”

I close my eyes as it sinks in.

“I gotta go,” I mumble.

“Yeah. Hit me later.”

Here I am, once again.

She lied.

She didn’t just omit shit. She didn’t just keep secrets.

She straight up lied.

It shouldn’t even be a surprise at this point, but it fucking feels like one.

I sit there staring at the whiteboard, my eyes dropping to the half-smudged EXCUSES written at the bottom. That’s all I’ve been doing for her ass. Making excuses.

But I don’t think I can get past it this time.

And I don’t think I want to.