Page 98 of Game Change

“Not this.” I burst into tears and wail. “My mom’s ashes. Please don’t step on that!” I warn the cops and security guard. “How the hell did this happen? There’s security downstairs. That’s why I chose this building. Now you allow someone in here, and they destroyed my mother’s ashes.”

Colin pulls me into his arms. I bury my face in his chest and weep. The urn that my stepfather and I picked out is shattered into a million pieces, and the ashes aren’t contained in one area. They’re scattered over the living room floor. It’s as if someone did this on purpose.

“Ma’am, your bedroom is destroyed too.” I don’t care about any of that. The only thing I care about is my mother’s ashes.

“I’m going in the kitchen to get a vase or a bowl, and then I’m going to pick up the ashes. We can replace everything else.” Colin puts his hands on my cheeks. “Look at me.” When I do he says, “You’re not alone. You have me.”

The rest of the time is a blur. I speak with the cops and tell them I have no idea who could have done this. When they ask if I have any enemies, the only person that comes to mind is Oliver. As soon as I utter his name, a chill runs through me, and my hands turn ice cold.

Colin maneuvers his way around the ashes with a vase and two envelopes.

“If that bastard has anything to do with this, he’s going to regret the day he was born,” he says.

The security guard says that the other guards are looking at the security tapes in the office. He assures me that there are cameras throughout the building, and when I ask how he could have gotten in, they say it’s possible he slipped in after someone.

After giving a detailed report to the police, they leave, and I spend the next few minutes on my knees helping Colin scoop the ashes and put them in a vase. Once the ashes are recovered, I take pictures of the rest of the damage.

“Let’s pack a bag, and you can stay with me indefinitely,” Colin says. “If you still want to sell this place, you can just live with me.” He says it as if we’re discussing plans for the weekend and not making profound changes to our lives.

I don’t answer, but I’m more convinced than ever to sell this place now. I wonder if the other house will be any safer from Oliver. If anything, it might be less safe. There will be cameras, but there won’t be twenty-four-hour security guards. Not that security worked when I needed it the most.

Eager to leave, I pack as much as possible in a big suitcase. I follow that up by taking all my beauty products.

When someone knocks on the door, Colin answers and calls my name. There are now two security guards in my living room. One holds an iPad.

“We want to see if you know this person.” He hands me the iPad, and Colin stands behind me. I press play, and there’s a clear picture of a man in a long, puffy coat. He has the hood over his head, and I can’t see his face, but I know that walk. I also remember that pathetic coat from when he came to the office.

“That’s Oliver Stanfield,” I say. “He’s my former stepbrother.” The camera catches him in the elevator. He gets off my floor and walks down the hall to my unit, where he pulls a tool out of his coat and jimmies the door open. His hood falls off while he does this, and I get a view of his profile for a brief second. “Yes, that’s him.”

I’d cry, but crying doesn’t fix anything. Crying didn’t bring my mother back, and it didn’t cure my stepfather’s cancer. Crying didn’t make Oliver do the right thing and give me back the house. It didn’t even make him offer me a room in a half-finished basement.

The only thing that will fix this is justice, and if I can’t get any through the law, I will take things into my own hands. I guarantee Oliver won’t like that.

Colin takes me to his place, and I call the police and give them Oliver’s name. The detective assigned to the case tells me the condo has already sent them the video, and I provide them with his mother’s address, but it’s unlikely he will be there.

I spend the next few hours dealing with my homeowner’s insurance. By the time I’m done with that, it’s dark outside, and I’m drained emotionally and physically. All I want to do is sit on Colin’s couch, but someone knocks on his door.

“Can you get that, Honeybee?” he asks from the kitchen. “I got my hands full.”

I peek through the peephole and scream with joy. Amira and Raven practically pounce on me.

“I drove by his mother’s house,” Raven says. “No cars were in the driveway, and the lights were off.” She lets me go, and Amira hugs me.

“We brought wine.” She holds two bottles of white and waves them in the air. “Your man called and invited us for dinner.”

While they pour the wine and set the table, I excuse myself and change into blue jeans and a long sweater. When I return to the kitchen, Ernestine is there too.

“The boss called.” She opens her arms, and I go in. “You know I know people,” she whispers in my ear. “Just say the word, and someone will fuck that motherfucker up.”

I hug her tight, and the five of us sit down at Colin’s kitchen table and share a meal. We don’t talk about anything serious.

“Oh, I have a story,” Amira says. She’s had two glasses of wine, and I look at Raven. Amira’s not one to tell stories to strangers. Not unless she has a little liquid courage. She’s reserved until she feels comfortable and has never been comfortable around men. “Rob—that’s my sister, Ashley’s husband,” she says to Colin and Ernestine, “—he’s kicked her out of their house. Only, it’s not their house. It’s his mother’s house, and she put all of Ashley’s clothes and things in trash bags and dumped them on my mother’s porch. Now, the thing is, Ashley had no idea the house wasn’t Rob’s. She thought she could force him to sell it and give her half in the divorce, but she got played.”

I make a face and stare at Raven.

“At least your day hasn’t been that bad,” Raven says.

“All her clothes are ruined. She soaked them in bleach. Rob has officially filed for divorce and is suing for sole physical custody.”

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