“Daddy-” Adrienne objected.
“It’s late,” he barked.
“I am so sorry, Jayden,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” Jayden said.
She waited until the door to the apartment building closed behind her father. “You told him I was tutoring you?” she asked.
“Sorta,” Jayden said with a laugh. “Told me no daughter of his would date a black man ever. I figured it was safer to play the stereotype and told him I’d stay out of jail better if I got a good education. He seemed okay with that.”
“Oh, my god!” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Jayden.”
“It’s funny. I’m not black enough to my mom’s family, and I’m too black for your dad,” he said, shaking his head.
“I think you’re perfect.”
He smiled. The look was dazzling, a combination of natural good looks and an inner glow that made her realize how much a stranger liked her to search the gang-run streets of her neighborhood after dark to make sure she was okay.
“I mean, I think you’re …” She drifted off, embarrassed. “… probably worrying your parents by being out with a white girl. No good ever came of that, right?”
“You might teach me to steal or something.”
She laughed, and he grinned.
“Go inside, before your daddy comes back with the shotgun,” he said.
“Thank you, Jayden.” She held his gaze as she backed her way to the door of her apartment building. Adrienne pushed it open and went inside, pausing to wave.
Jayden waved back then started away towards a row of dark cars parked across the street.
Adrienne watched him get into one. Seconds later, the taillights glowed red. He flipped on the headlights then eased out of the parallel parking spot and drove away.
The Red Man stood behind a black motorcycle parked beneath the streetlight nearest to where Jayden had been parked.
Adrienne watched the unnatural being watching her, at a loss as to what it was he sought from her. He made an effort to find her and show himself, but he hadn’t tried to talk to her.
Why?
“Adrienne!”
“Coming, Daddy.”
Adrienne retreated to the depths of the elevator, where her father waited.
“How many times do I have to tell you not –” he began.
She listened to the lecture, mind on the events of her evening. She had more questions for her cards tonight, and she was surprised to realize that she wanted to know more about Rene.
Chapter Nine
Jayden was still smiling when he merged onto the freeway a few minutes later. Adrienne’s laugh, her beautiful eyes … she made him feel good about himself, something Kimmie and his parents never really did.
He never imagined he could feel so much concern for a person he barely knew. The two hours he spent looking for her made him realize how far under his skin she already was. Maybe it was hearing her sing or maybe it was how different she was. She wasn’t like the guarded, selfish girls he normally dated and definitely not spoiled like his sisters.
She was genuinely sweet, gorgeous, and gifted. He thought of his father’s warning about not drawing attention to himself. The South was still conservative in its view of racial dating. Would that draw attention to him and threaten to expose the family secret? Adrienne was poor, and her daddy was…backwards. Would they make for good media fodder?
She was most likely someone his father wouldn’t approve of. There couldn’t be anything permanent between him and Adrienne, but he could enjoy himself for a while. The rebellious streak in him didn’t want to give up Adrienne the way he’d given up control over the rest of his life to his parents, teachers and coach. No, he could be himself with Addy, and she liked that about him.
His cell rang, jarring him out of his warm thoughts.
“Jay?” It was his mother. “Did you call?”
He clicked the icon on the car’s dashboard to engage the Bluetooth, aware his mother would yell otherwise once she found out he was driving.
“Hi, Mama,” he said. “Yeah I called earlier.”
“I just got off the phone with Grandmama. Went to the grocery store before.”
“Cool,” Jayden said. “She get her AC fixed yet?”
“No.” His mother made a sound of frustration. “I don’t think she never will. You wearing your dog tags?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“She said to tell you not to take them off, even for football.”
“I only take them off in the shower,” he replied.
“Not even then, Jayden. She told me what she told you. You never told me she said you were going to die!” His mother was angry. “If I found out you took off those –”
“Mama, can you please stop with this voodoo crap?” he demanded. “It’s not real. I wear the tags because they’re a family heirloom.” One I don’t need to be ashamed of.
“Don’t you talk about our religion like that, Jayden. She’s trying to save your life.”
“All right, fine,” he said, not wanting to end his night arguing with his mother. “I’m wearing them. Okay?”
“That’s not all she told me.”
God, please, just cut me a break for once, he pleaded silently.
“She told me who will kill you if you take them off.”
“Fine. Who?” he asked.
“A damsel in distress.”
“What?”
“She said it was on the day of a full moon. A white girl with white hair and eyes like jewels.”
Jayden’s brow furrowed. The description sounded a lot like Adrienne, though it didn’t seem possible his grandmama could know about her. Tara was the only one who knew he liked Adrienne, and Tara wouldn’t dare stoop to the level of talking to his poor relations.
“Grandmama hates white people,” he said. “You sure she’s not just venting?”
“Grandmama does not hate white people. The loa Brigit is white and we worship her.”
“So she hates non-deity white people.”
“Will you just listen to me for once, Jay?”
He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to hang up on his mother.
“Grandmama said grandpapa told her this morning you’d meet this white zombie this week and that she’s from a lost family line sworn to black magic.”
“Is that it?”
“She said this family is cursed, Jayden. The white zombie is gonna kill you, and it’s all your daddy’s fault.”
Of course. Everything is. “How will I know this white zombie from any other white girl?” he asked, amused.
“Grandmama says the curse took the firstborn in the zombie’s family.”
Jayden gripped the steering wheel, recalling Adrienne’s sister. “How does grandmama come up with this?”
“The spirits tell her.”
“She told me that my great grandpapa would protect me after the zombie killed me. Does that make me a zombie, too? Will I be trying to eat other people’s brains?”
“Don’t be disrespectful, Jayden. The walking dead look and act like normal people. If grandmama has to bring you back with a zombie rite, maybe. If the EMTs bring you back, probably not. Why you ask? You meet the zombie?”
“No.”
He wanted to pry more into the zombie business, but didn’t dare for fear his mother might catch on that he’d met someone who fit his grandmama’s description. He wasn’t about to encourage either of them in their unhealthy obsessions with spirits and spells.
“If you find the white zombie, bring her to Grandmama.”
No way in hell. While New Orleans was the voodoo capitol of the South, his family brought their traditions over from Haiti. They were the real thing – nothing commercialized or put on for show. His grandmama made voodoo dolls for good luck. There was a reason there were no stray cats in the neighborhood and a whole lot of mummified cat parts in Grandmama’s shed next to the box of chicken feet. Allegedly, cats and chickens were good luck, though their luck ran out when they crossed paths with his grandmama.