Page 44

“Good morning. Good morning.” I greet the people who have joined me on Inflogram Live.

The comments continue flowing through.

“I’m out for my morning jog. Trying to get some fresh inspiration going in my life. I’ve run into some issues and some disappointments over the last couple of days, but I’m not letting that stop me, y’all.”

I look through the comments as they tell me that my skin is glowing and how beautiful I look. I smile and reply, “Thanks, y’all.”

Some more people join my live, and finally, I get to the heart of my message.

“Listen, I’m not here to fuck up your morning, but I’ve got something to tell y’all.

People aren’t always who they seem to be.

People who claim to love you and have your back really don’t.

They do that shit for selfish reasons. Then you have those who you know they’re not shit, but you know you need them in your life, so you keep an eye on them.

But then you realize you underestimated their power. ”

I glance down at the viewers who are hopping on my live with me and read some of the comments.

“Hey, Tasha. Nah, my family ain’t shit either. I know y’all think I got a good family, but it’s not even them who I’m talking about.”

I glance at the screen again. “Jason, no, I’m talking about that new mayor y’all are so crazy about. She’s not who you think she is. When everybody goes running to the polls in a few weeks to cast their ballot, I promise, if you vote for her, you’ll wish you’d been listening to me after all.”

I catch a glance of a car turning down the side street that I’m walking along in the park. I turn my gaze back to the phone as I read the comments.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get emotional on y’all, Rochelle. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve gotten in bed with the wrong people, literally and physically.”

I sniff, take a right off the main path, and slow my jogging down to a fast walk.

“No, Bonnie. Kenny and I aren’t together anymore. My husband was the worst of them all. He broke my heart repeatedly, beat me when I didn’t agree with his opinions, and cheated on me with any and every woman who passed by,” I explain.

“Rochelle, yeah, I’ve been seeing someone since Kenny and I broke up. I love this man.”

I watch the comments rolling through a little longer, and then I respond to Rochelle’s comment. “No, he’s not anybody we work with, girl.”

I laugh, and she replies: “ Glad I could make your ass laugh .”

“Thank you, boo. I needed that.”

I read another comment, and then I respond.

“No, Bonnie, I don’t get down like that.

I know men ain’t no good, but neither are these bitches out here either.

They’re the first ones to cross you up. Again, a prime example is Ms. Essence Hamilton.

For every one of y’all who votes for her, she’s gonna make you bend over, grease you up with some Vaseline, and then fuck you raw! ”

The comments start flying. I’m not a celebrity or anything, but for me, having seventy-one viewers is large.

“You’re right, Bonnie. I’ma chill on that shit.

I’ll call you later, girl. Or maybe you, Rochelle, and I can take an extended lunch at work.

” I sniff again and state, “I’m getting off this live.

I need a few minutes to get my head together.

But remember what I said, don’t vote for Essence Hamilton. She’s not to be trusted.”

I end the Inflogram Live, hang up the phone, and think about my sister and her family.

Fuck Bayleigh and Zaire , I think to myself. They’re haters.

I think about Parker and wonder where in the hell he is. I try to call him again. His phone rings and rings until the voicemail picks up.

“Parker, please call me. I love you. I’m scared, and I miss you. Please.” I sob and end the call.

We played a game, but in the end, the joke was on me. I’d suspected something was off yesterday when I left Bayleigh’s house. After leaving Essence’s house, I’d gone by the drugstore and picked up a pregnancy test, which I’d taken last night.

I’m waiting to hear back from Parker so I can share the news with him.

I really am pregnant now. What started as a lie to get the information I needed turned out to be true. I’m just nowhere near as far along as I pretended to be. And this isn’t Kenny’s kid; it’s Parker’s.

Parker, who I’ve been shamelessly flirting with for years. Parker, who wouldn’t give me the time of day until a few months ago. Parker, whom I had fallen helplessly in love with, and who I knew didn’t feel the same about me, but he had strong feelings for me.

This was our chance to get it right. My chance to have the family I always wanted. Parker, the kid, and me.

More people are coming into the park now, and I don’t want to be bothered.

My emotions are all over the place, and I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or something else.

I know my mom has been begging me to get back on my meds lately, but I don’t want that shit either.

I hate the way my meds make me feel. Now that I know I’m pregnant, I’m glad I didn’t start taking them again.

I walk up the steps leading from the main trail to a less-traveled walking path.

If I hadn’t been in my emotions when I left home, I would have been paying attention and seen that a car had been following me since I left.

If I hadn’t been on Inflogram Live while walking, I would have noticed that same car following me throughout the park.

If I hadn’t had my head down and been focused on trying to call Parker and so deep into my emotions, I would have noticed someone following me.

But as it stands, I don’t notice anything until it is too late. The snap of a twig, as I walk further down the walking path and away from the street, causes me to turn my head.

The moment that I do, I look up to see a tall white man following me. He’s wearing a running suit, and when I see his hand move around in his jacket pocket, I take off running.

But no sooner than I do, someone steps off the path ahead of me. I slam into a hard body and look up into the cold, menacing black eyes of a dark-skinned Black man wearing a hoodie.

He grasps my shoulders to keep me upright and from falling. I almost thank him, but then he leans down, smiles, and whispers, “Run!”

When he releases my arms and steps out of my path, I take off running.

My feet aren’t fast enough to outrun a bullet.

I have no idea if it’s the white man in the tracksuit or the Black man in a hoodie and jeans who shoots me in the back of my head.

I just know that I'm going down at an alarming rate, and everything ends before my face slams into the concrete.

I never had the chance to get it right. My baby never stood a chance, and Parker will never know that we created a beautiful life together.