Grown(38)

At the front door is Tony, another bodyguard, Richie, Korey, and two police officers. I scurry down to join them.

The officers, a white man and a black woman, never cross the threshold, but their presence is loud, fills up the entire house.

“Yes?” I say, twisting a strand of Melissa around my pinkie.

“Are you Enchanted Jones?” the woman asks.

“Um, yes.”

“We need to talk to you in private.”

I look at Korey, unsure if I’m allowed to speak. He gives a small nod.

“About what?” I ask, my voice shaky.

Korey steps in, his voice light and pleasant. “As you can see, she’s not chained up in the basement. She has free range to walk around the house as she pleases.”

Something about his demeanor makes me think he’s done this before.

“Pssh! You think a brother like Korey Fields need to lock a bitch up to keep ’em?” the bodyguard quips. “Bitches be lining down the block just to get a taste!”

The woman gives him a once-over. “May we use your living room?”

Korey slaps on a sweet smile.

“Yes, ma’am, of course. By the way, she’s seventeen. Age of consent in Atlanta, I believe.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Yes, thank you for pointing out you know the laws in Georgia so well.”

A tense silence falls, bugs fluttering through the open door. Korey shoves his hands into his sweats pockets.

The white officer reads the room, then proceeds. “We’ll be right in there.”

“Fine. Do what you gotta do!”

Richie pulls Korey aside, whispering in his ear, keeping him calm. Korey’s jaw stiffens, never taking his eyes off me as the officers lead me into the living room. Even as the woman closes the double doors in his face.

“Hello, Enchanted,” the white officer says. “We received a call to check on your well-being.”

My teeth chatter loud enough to hear down the block. I rub my arms. “By who?”

“We’re not at liberty to say but per protocol, we need to ask you a few questions.”

“Enchanted, are you being held against your will?” the woman asks bluntly.

A shiver zips down my back. We had practiced every scenario we could ever think of, but this is new and frightening. Lying to fans and strangers is one thing but lying to the police is another. My mind races, thinking of the settlement with Candy, the way he broke down on the balcony in Miami . . . and the promise I made.

“No.”

“Are you in need of assistance?”

The double door cracks open, just slightly. Someone else would confuse it for a gust of wind, but I know better.

“No, I’m fine,” I say with a stiff smile.

Out in the hall, I hear Korey clear his throat.

“Everything’s fine here,” I say, stronger, louder. “We’re recording my album.”

Something slams against the wall. The officers exchange a glance but carry on.

The woman officer says, “So you WANT to be here.”

“Yes. Yes, I want to be here.” I almost believe the words coming out of my mouth.

The woman gives me another once-over, eyeballing my oversize sweat suit.

They ask me a few more questions but quickly realize my answers are going to remain the same.

Back in the foyer, Korey and Richie are waiting.

“All done?” Korey asks.

“Yes,” the woman says.

Korey smirks. “Well, thanks for stopping by.”

The woman nods at me, just me, and walks back to the patrol car. The man waits until she’s a few feet away before turning with a grin.

“Sorry about all this. But, uh, hey, can I get your autograph? My wife, she’s a huge fan and she’d kill me if she knew I met you and didn’t at least try.”

Korey thickens his charm.

“Sure, man! Sorry y’all came all this way for nothing. You know, trolls stay trolling.”

As he signs the officer’s flip book, offering to pose for a selfie, I creep away slow, willing myself invisible.

Maybe this will all blow over. Maybe it won’t be that bad.

But no more than two feet into my room, the front door slams. My lungs shrink as his feet stomp up the stairs. He charges in, face emotionless.

“You know it was them nosy-ass parents of yours who sent them cops, right?”

“You . . . talked to them?”

“Yeah, they said they were going to do this shit,” he snaps, shaking his head. “They texted me.”

“Can I see?”

He cocks his head to the side, stepping toward me.

“Why you need to see? What, you don’t trust me?”

Panic surges and my arms go limp.

“N-n-no, of course I trust you. I . . . just wanted to see what they said. That’s all.”

He cuts his eyes before flopping onto the bed.

“They said they wanted more money. Said I ain’t paid them enough for you. I think I’ve given them plenty. Shit, I’m overpaying, after all the shit you’ve put me through!”

“Can . . . can I have my phone back. Please?”

“That’s all you got to say to me?” he roars.

“No! I mean I can call them and try to—”