Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Certain moments in a lifetime require change, major change. Tiny, minor changes just aren’t good enough. In those times, drastic times call for drastic fucking measures.
You can do this.
You’ve done it before, too many times.
No one can tell identical twins apart anyway. They will never know.
Just keep your fucking facts straight.
The excessive itching of her braid-free scalp and the throbbing from the myriad of thoughts crowding her mind cause her head to ache.
She runs her nails through her scalp and that provides some relief, but not enough.
This change, pretending to be her twin, is harder than she thought.
Her mind isn’t in it; it’s running like a damn track star.
As much as it’s needed, she second guesses her mental ability to do this, this time. This trick worked when she first discovered it at fifteen, and as many times as she’s done this before, the stakes are higher this time. Much higher.
At fifteen, her relationship with her first boyfriend had been at risk. He’d caught her innocently kissing another boy and threatened to end things with her. Her young mind was unable to conjure the words to explain the mishap to Emmanuel. In a panic, she blamed her twin.
It wasn’t her kissing Titan. It was her twin. She would never hurt him.
The story was convincing and worked on Emmanuel’s na?ve, young mind. But that was then, this is now. She’s not a teenager anymore. She’s a grown ass woman and more than a teenage boy’s heart is at risk. This is serious, life changing type of serious.
“At twenty-eight though, can I pull this shit off?” she mumbles as she looks at herself and her head full of untamed hair in the mirror. “I need a drink to do this,” she says.
On her way to the bathroom to wash and tame her wild mane, she makes a detour for liquid clarity and encouragement.
While tequila is her drink of choice, it’s nowhere near five, so she opts for her premixed mimosa in the fridge and pours a full glass.
It’s down her throat and coursing through her bloodstream before she makes it to the bedroom.
She walks to the bed, plops down, then grabs her phone. One text is all it took. She got on a plane heading to Crescent Falls to switch her identity and become her twin.
305-392-1311: I fucked up and I need you to be me.
Looking at the text again still makes her heart falter then drop to her stomach and causes her breath to hitch.
Sunjiya: What’s wrong?
305-392-1311: It’s bad and I can’t tell you over the phone. Please just come to Crescent Falls. I got you a ticket. I’ll be at work when you land. The key will be under the fake rock in the yard. Please!!
305-392-1311: 1424 Blue Pointe, Apt. 1505
305-392-1311:
Now she is in Crescent Falls, standing in the bathroom of this barely furnished two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment, preparing to be her twin sister.
After examining the two pictures of Tanjaya in the only room with a bed, she removes her glasses first and puts on her contacts.
Sunjiya wears glasses but Tanjaya hates them.
In all of her photographs, Tanjaya’s face is spectacles-free.
Her hair has to match the pictures too. Taking her braids out had been tedious but washing and straightening it would be a whole ass nightmare.
Before undressing to get into the shower, she calls Tanjaya’s phone one more time. The first call had been made about two hours ago. It went unanswered so she left a voicemail. This one isn’t answered either, so she leaves another message.
“Hey. Just checking in. Like I said earlier, I’m here in your apartment and waiting.
I hope whatever it is isn’t as bad as I’m imagining.
Life has been too hard already. Nevertheless, I’m here, twin, and I’m starving.
If you’re not home in a few hours, I have to go find food.
You don’t have shit in that kitchen but liquor.
I opened your mimosa by the way. Can’t wait to see you; it’s been a long ass time. ”
When she ends the call, she steps into the small shower and adjusts the water temperature. When it feels warm enough, she starts the shower and steps directly under the spray. As the warm water soothes her scalp, she thinks of her past life and the new one she’s about to assume.
Many believe growing up in Florida’s foster system either makes or breaks a child.
For Sunjiya, it unfortunately did both. Being mistreated, neglected, and verbally abused broke her down.
From birth to eighteen, she had been shuffled between six foster-family homes and two, state-run facilities.
She quickly learned the only person looking out for her was herself and she did what she had to do to survive.
Those survival instincts turned her into the person she is today, the resilient woman willing to do what’s always needed.
She went through hell and back, and when she turned fifteen, her life took a major shift and everything changed.
For a teenager, she carried the stress and burden of a grown ass woman.
Her current foster home was hell. Every time she stepped foot into The Randals’s tiny apartment, she was subjected to verbal and physical abuse.
While Mr. Randals yelled and degraded her, Mrs. Randals and her evil ass daughters would find any excuse to hit, slap, kick, or punch her.
Every day was a fight and her only reprieve was school and Emmanuel, her first boyfriend.
When all the other boys at Jackson High School overlooked her because of her old, passed-down clothes, dingy shoes, and quiet demeanor, Emmanuel saw a silent beauty.
For the first time in her life, Sunjiya experienced something close to love and he was her refuge in the midst of her storms at home and the facility.
One day, on a dare from girls who weren’t really her friends, she’d kissed another boy.
Everything about the kiss was timed, even Emmanuel’s entrance into the locker room to catch her.
In front of the small, conniving crowd, Emmanuel ended their teenage love affair and Sunjiya was devastated and heartbroken.
In the midst of that storm, two days later, Sunjiya was abruptly and unexpectedly removed from The Randals and taken back to the state-run foster home.
The little thread of hope and sanity Sunjiya fought to hold onto started to unravel.
Then, a miracle happened, an unbelievable miracle.
During her second night back in the facility, around three o’clock in the morning, a girl with her same face was brought onto the floor—Tanjaya, her twin.
Over late night and early morning talks, Sunjiya learned she wasn’t alone in life.
God sent what she had been missing in her life, her other half.
She learned that she and Tanjaya were basically the same person, identical in every way, twins separated at birth and lost in the system.
Their introduction and connection healed Sunjiya in ways she didn’t understand but greatly appreciated.
As Sunjiya healed and grew older, her bond with Tanjaya started to lessen with distance but her presence was always felt.
In her heart, Sunjiya knew she and her twin sister would forever be available for the other if needed and that time came eight years ago.
They reconnected under crazy ass circumstances and stayed connected ever since.
When needed, they show up for one another and this is one of those times.
Fresh out of the shower with a clean and refreshed body, hair, and scalp, Sunjiya checks her phone again.
When she sees no calls or texts, she moisturizes her body, throws on comfortable tights and a tee, then tackles her head full of hair.
It takes her two and a half hours to detangle, oil and massage her scalp, apply heat protector, blow dry, and flat iron.
The labor of love drains her and works up her appetite.
It’s mid-August and the weather here is considerably cooler than she’s accustomed to.
So instead of slides, she grabs a pair of designer booties from the closet, slips them on then orders an iDrive to take her to dinner.
Her car arrives twenty minutes later, and when she gets into the back seat, unbeknownst to her, a pair of dark brown eyes are watching her in the dark sedan parked three buildings down on the left.
Five days ago, Akeem touched down in the city.
Intel from his brother Axton—including facial recognition, now cold trails of expenses tied to prepaid debit cards, and traces on two burner phones—led him to Crescent Falls.
He’s been scouring the city looking for her and lucked up this morning when he saw that face and those eyes curbside at the airport.
He followed her to these apartments, waiting and watching.
The entrance to building fifteen is one-third of a mile.
Two ways into the building, front and back.
Fire exits mapped out in each apartment.
Balconies on floors two through five.
Apartment 1505 has a small back patio. Easy access and easy escape.
Before the iDrive is out of the complex, Akeem texts his brother the license plate and Axton responds within three minutes with the driver’s name and the final destination of the ride.
The total route is thirty-one minutes, which means he has at least an hour to survey the building and get into the apartment.
As soon as he arrived and saw her enter building fifteen, he informed Axton.
An hour later, he had copies of all twenty tenant leases and the floorplans.
Only one had been executed in the last two months, apartment 1505 on the ground floor, and the tenant’s fake name is very close to Tanjaya—Taya Jane.
After double checking that no one notices him, Akeem pulls his encrypted cell out of his pocket to silence it. It rings. He glances at the screen and sees it’s his ex. When he ignores the call, it rings again. This time it’s Quise.
“What’s up, Quise?” he answers.
“So I have to use his phone to get you to answer?” Charis asks.
“What do you want, Charis? I’m in the middle of something,” he says, unwilling to hide his annoyance.
Just like he didn’t have time for her last week at Quise’s game, he doesn’t have time for her now. Nothing has changed, especially not him and his beliefs. Love and loyalty are non-negotiable, and once loyalty has been destroyed, there’s no love.
Charis’s heavy sigh of regret could be felt through the phone but it doesn’t move Akeem at all.
This is her; this is what she does. Her regret only surfaces after he’s been in her presence.
Seeing his handsome face and watching him love on her son the way he used to love her cripples her and sends her on solo trips down memory lane.
“Quise misses you,” she says.
“And I miss him too. I’m not sure if I’m going to make his first home game,” he admits. “But I’m gonna try. Plus, I’m still going to scoop him his first week of winter break.”
“What about me? Do you miss me?” she asks.
“Charis, this dynamic we have now, you wanted it. You chose to fuck another man and now you gotta deal with what comes with that. We don’t have shit together but our son, and no, I do not miss you.
Tell Quise to get at me if he needs something.
Get off my line, Charis,” he says and she ends the call without another word.
He closes his eyes, a trick he uses to recenter and refocus.
When he opens them, he’s pushed all thoughts of Charis out of his mental and he’s ready to get into the apartment.
With all assignments, the goal is either to blend in with the surroundings or navigate as invisibly as possible.
For a large apartment complex with multiple buildings, blending is the best option.
After securing his guns in their usual spots and gloving up, he grabs the large black food warmer bag from the back seat.
After clocking twelve deliveries his first hour monitoring the apartment, he discreetly placed a tiny Bluetooth camera in front of the building and rushed to the store to buy the bag.
With the camera, he was able to see Tanjaya didn’t leave the apartment.
Once inside the building, he journeys toward 1505, and using the mini DoorStorm in the bag, he breaches the door and enters.
Luckily, there’s no alarm system. Once inside, he checks his watch.
Seeing he has at least another forty minutes, he looks around.
He quickly discovered there isn’t much in the apartment.
The refrigerator has no food, only drinks.
The cabinets are bare and only a few snack items are in the pantry.
The living room has a television, one table, and a small loveseat.
One bedroom is completely empty and the other is badly furnished.
Either she’s just setting up this apartment or it’s just a temporary stop.
Right as he wanders into her closet, his cell vibrates in his pocket. Because of his last interaction with Charis, he’s hesitant to check the phone, but his gut tells him to. When he pulls it out and sees it’s Axton, he answers quickly. Before he can get his greeting out, Axton talks.
“There’s a change in her route. She didn’t make it to the restaurant. I don’t know what happened but the driver is turning around. Her route has been updated to return to the apartment. Her ETA is thirteen minutes.”
“Fuck!” Akeem grits, then sighs. “Thanks for looking out.”
“Always,” Axton replies and ends the call.
With his time now more limited, Akeem removes a smile vial of an effective sedative and a syringe.
After he fills the syringe, he goes back to the front door, checks for traces of his breach, then locks the door.
The next five minutes are a waiting game.
Strategically positioned in the right corner of the bedroom, out of the line of the door, Akeem stands motionless, waiting for her to return.
Minutes later, Sunjiya storms into the apartment loud and frantic. “Where did I leave my damn wallet?” she yells to herself the moment she’s inside. Akeem spots a small brown wallet on the bed. “I was in the bathroom,” she begins and it sounds like she’s getting closer to the bedroom.
Unbeknownst to her, with each step she makes, another person in the apartment is making strides too.
By the time she makes it to the door, Akeem is already behind it, ready to make his move.
The moment she steps in, he inches from behind the door.
In fifteen seconds flat, from behind, he covers her mouth and nose with his large hand.
The overwhelming fear that blankets Sunjiya only lasts for a flash.
Before she can even feel it, there’s a tiny sting on her neck.
Her fear is replaced with a warm and calming sensation coasting through her veins.
Her eyes close then her body falls limp in her captor’s arms.