Yvette?â
âSienna, why havenât you been answering your phone?â she yelled in my ear.
âUm, hello, how are you, um, is that too much to ask?â I rolled my eyes. My sister was always in the middle of some drama.
âI donât have time for your sarcasm any more than you seem to have time to pick up your phone.â
âYou just called me. I just answered.â I looked up at Leon to offer him a smile, but he was busy flipping through the menu.
âYour home phone? You havenât been answering that.â
âObviously Iâm not home, Yvette. Did it ever cross your mind that I might actually be out somewhere and canât talk to you?â
âWell, I gave them your cell phone number and you obviously didnât answer it either or you wouldnât be talking to me.â
âThem? Yvette, really, I donât have time for this. What are you talking about? What is going on? Who is âthemâ?â
âReverend Howard and Tridellâs mother.â
My heart skipped a beat. âWhat? What happened?â
âThey gone!â
Her words didnât make sense. âWhat? What happened?â I asked again.
âYour son, my son, and that prissy Tridell Jenkinsâalong with Reverend Howardâs rental car, might I addâare all gone from that desert campground you talked me into sending my child to!â
Chapter 7
âGone!â I hollered into the phone. An elderly couple at the table next to us gave me a look of displeasure. Leonâs eyes were wide as he leaned closer to me.
âYou heard me!â Yvette hollered back in my ear. âYou got my son out there missing halfway across the country.â
âYvette, you know good and well I did not do anything to your son. He makes his own choices, just like you chose to send him on the trip on your own accordâeven before I signed the permission forms for Roman.â This direction in conversation was not what I needed. I needed answers, not Yvetteâs perpetual blame-game drama and her act that Skee-Gee was the perfect child, the innocent one. For anything, a year Romanâs senior in age, and a decade his senior in street knowledge, I knew one thing for certain: wherever they were, it was Skee-Geeâs doingâor that darn Tridell Jenkins. âIâm not doing this with you right now, Yvette. I need to know what is going on. Where is my son?â
Leon was at full attention on the other side of the table. âWhatâs wrong, Sienna?â
I held up a finger, shaking my head at him. âI canât . . . I donât know whatâs going on. Yvette, where is my son?â
âThatâs what Iâm trying to tell you. They gone, Sienna. Roman, Tridell, and Sylvester took off in Minister Howardâs rental car, and donât nobody know where they are right now.â
âOkay,â I said, hanging up the phone. There was no point in trying to continue a conversation with her. I dialed Romanâs number and his voice mail came on immediately, letting me know his cell phone was turned off.
âRoman,â I shouted as if he could somehow still hear me, âyou need to call me as soon as you get this message. Iâm not playing with you. Call me!â I hung up and put my head down.
âSienna, letâs . . . letâs just go.â Leonâs voice was gentle, soothing in my ear. I realized right then that he was rubbing my shoulder. His touch had been so natural, I hadnât even noticed it was there. Awareness of this subtlety made me stiffen up my shoulder under his fingers. He felt the tension and backed away, but his tone stayed soft.
âI know from your words that something is going on with Roman. Letâs get you home and weâll figure out what to do.â He left a fifty on the table though we had not yet eaten. As we headed toward the parking lot, I recalled that we had driven in separate cars. I
Learning to Kill: Stories