Page 2

Tayla Young

Eight Months Later

T his was the second time we’d walked around the two-story building.

I’d done an initial tour before I started my interview.

Mrs. Haven was trying to get a better feel for who I was.

For now, I hope that my act was enough to get me this job.

I didn’t have my life all figured out, and I was hoping she didn’t see through the facade.

Aside from my qualifications, there were several aspects of myself that I needed to conceal.

As soon as I walked into A Child’s Haven, I knew this was where I wanted to work.

Not only because it was a state-of-the-art childcare center, but because I wanted this job.

It would put me one step closer to piecing my life back together.

The proximity to the people who worked here would help with that.

As we finished the tour, we could hear the boisterous children learning in the eight classrooms and two nurseries.

This place was my last hope. If I didn’t get the job, I would have to devise another plan.

It was a wonder that this position had opened up; when I saw it online, I immediately applied.

We finally arrived back where we started, where I sat in the chair in front of the desk, where Mrs. Haven had sat behind.

I noted her youthful appearance. She sat before me with a black, shoulder-length bob parted to the side with beach waves and grey highlights.

Her makeup was perfectly placed and complemented her smooth, caramel-colored skin.

It was accentuated with a daytime smoky eye and only gloss covering her naturally mauve lips.

As I studied her, she studied me in return.

Her head tilted to the side before she spoke.

“I don’t see any reason why we can’t move forward.

You’re more than qualified with a master’s degree in early childhood development and outstanding business acumen; if you want it, the position is yours,” she said.

As she stared at me, awaiting my answer, I looked around the mid-sized office, then at the nameplate that read Denise Haven.

This office would soon be mine once I accepted the position.

“Really?” I asked, smiling from ear to ear. This was the best news I’d heard in months, and the last year had nearly broken me. I wanted to jump up and down, but I shifted in my seat to calm my over-excitement.

“I accept. Thank you so much, Mrs. Haven,” I said as I shook her hand. I had gotten the director job at A Child’s Haven.

“You’re more than welcome. Of course, I’ll still be here for the next few months until you get your bearings, and then I’ll be on my way.

Tayla, who are we kidding? You knew you would get the job.

You waltzed in here with all the confidence in the world.

Look at you and this hair. I’m sorry I went off a tangent, but you're stunning. Let me get back on track,” she said and laughed.

She was the current director and had told me in so many words several times today that she was looking to step down as soon as possible.

“Now that we’ve got all the professional stuff out of the way, let me just say unprofessionally that I can’t wait for you to start.

When my son and I started this place, he thought I would be watching their kids until I died, I guess.

But Baby, mama gotta have a life too. I love them to death, but when I get tired of their little badasses, what do you young people say?

... Fuck them, kids; they ain’t mine. Then, every time I turn around, they’re popping out more.

That’s where you come in,” she said, and I joined in on the animated laugh she’d just let out.

I could tell that Mrs. Haven didn’t take any shit.

“Mrs. Haven.”

“Oh, call me Denise. I’m sure I’ll be Mama Neecee to you too soon.”

“Ms. Denise, I knew you were a firecracker. Raising three boys couldn’t have been easy,” I said.

“And wasn’t; we had a time, but I’d like to think we did alright,” she said and laughed.

She explained that they started this childcare center when her sons, Devin, Dorien, and Demitri, all began having kids.

She explained how the daycare inside their downtown skyscraper could no longer accommodate them.

They ran a giant tech company called Haven Computer Sciences.

However, calling A Child’s Haven a childcare center seemed an understatement.

It looked and operated like a private school teaching and caring for preschool-aged children from birth to five.

“I want you to know that this is a family-oriented facility, and as my son says, it’s family over everything. While employed here, we will accommodate a spot for you and extend our family’s bond.”

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Haven. Right now, I need all the family I can get. Starting over is never easy,” I said as we both stood.

“We’ll be here for you with whatever you need. My number, as well as Devin’s, is also in your onboarding packet. Give me a call anytime.” I nodded.

“Let me walk you out,” she said as we headed towards the front of the building.

Once we reached it, we both parted ways, saying our goodbyes.

She headed back inside through the secure doors, and I headed towards my car.

I hit the key fob, opened the doors, and sank into the driver’s seat.

I couldn’t believe that this was now my life.

I got pissed off just thinking about what had led me to this predicament.

I stared at the brightly colored brick building with shapes for windows, which, moments ago, had been my happy place, to find myself that quickly, the opposite.

“ Ask this lying bitch ,” was the last thing I heard Jourdan say before she shot at me.

I hadn’t heard from or seen them since. The sad part was that I knew that they also weren’t looking for me because otherwise, I’d be dead.

I should be dead with our line of work; that was how we’d been trained to operate.

We didn’t ask questions, and I would’ve done the same.

I’d re-lived that moment every day for the last eight months.

It was the moment that left me alone until two months ago.

I needed to do whatever I needed to pull my family back together because I needed them.

I thought back to the day everything happened.

The same day that I found out that my mother had been the one to shoot Jourdan and Brice’s father.

I’d finally had time in my schedule to meet my mother for lunch.

At her request, she wanted to meet at her house.

Our relationship had been strained for a while, so when I had the chance to take an extended lunch from the private school where I was the director, I jumped at the opportunity.

I still wanted to mend that relationship, even though I was sure it was too far gone.

Growing up, my mother wasn’t typical, lacking the empathy, love, and care that most mothers usually provide.

To her, the streets were more important.

Brice and Jourdan’s parents quickly filled that void.

Even though her father ran the streets, he understood the importance of family.

At thirty-six, I felt I no longer needed that from her, so I allowed her to be a familiar fixture.

For it to be LA, my mother had managed to find a secluded home surrounded by trees on the outskirts of the city.

Pulling into her driveway, I cut the engine and quickly checked my appearance in the mirror.

I was dressed in business casual, wearing a flowy, wrap-around white V-cut blouse, which I had crossed and tucked into my black, wide-leg trousers.

My long locs were swooped from the left around the front and secured in a ponytail that hung down my back; I’d been growing them for six years.

I hoped she wouldn’t say anything about my recent weight gain.

In the last month, I’d managed to go up a pant size and couldn’t pinpoint why other than stress.

Brice saw me every day and hadn’t noticed, but I was sure my mother would.

She thought a top would never want me because I didn’t dress or carry myself with the typical pedigree and glamour of a top’s wife.

I had my fair share of them and didn’t want to attract them.

It wasn’t as great as she made it out to be.

Once satisfied that I looked okay, I got out of the car.

I stood at the door, deciding to forgo ringing the bell to use my key to enter.

As I walked in, I heard my mother’s loud voice booming through the house.

On instinct, I refrained from calling out to her.

I also inhaled the scent of the house. There were no remnants or lingering smells of cooked food or takeout.

She forgot I was coming.

I placed the keys inside the tightness of my pocket, being careful not to rattle them.

Then I removed my heels, ensuring they didn’t clack against her freshly polished wood floors.

Pausing, I listened again for her voice to return before I crept toward where it had come.

I glanced around her home, noting the expensive-looking white furniture and new artwork she’d hung.

Her house was just as unwelcoming as she was.

My feet glided gently across the house to where I found her in her office at the back.

I stood outside the door with my back against the wall, listening as she yelled.

“I’ve done everything you asked. All those years ago, I shot Brian when you asked. I recently set up that deal at the Cypress Docks. I’ve hidden you from our daughter; she doesn’t even know you fucking exist,” she yelled. My ears perked up because, as far as I knew, I was my mother’s only child .

“Damnit, Nina, stop saying all this shit over the phone, you’re my fucking insurance policy. Act like it,” the unfamiliar male voice rang out. My mother must have had the phone on speaker.