Chapter 8 - His Name
Malik felt the diner disappear around him.
“What?”
Tanya reached across the table.
He pulled his hands away.
“I didn’t open a credit card.”
“What did you use it for?”
“A utility account.”
“Why?”
“The gas was going to be disconnected.”
“In my name?”
“For six weeks.”
“You put a bill in my name without asking me?”
“I paid it.”
“That is not the point.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
His voice rose enough that a nearby customer glanced over.
Malik lowered it.
“How old was I?”
“Eighteen.”
He laughed without humor.
“Of course.”
“Malik—”
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
He stared at her.
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
“Why did you mention Yvette making things criminal?”
“Because technically I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Technically?”
Tanya’s eyes filled.
“I was desperate.”
“And I was convenient.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Stop saying that.”
He stood.
“Every time I describe something you did, you tell me the description is unfair.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Please.”
He remained standing.
“Give me the utility company.”
“What?”
“The name.”
She told him.
He wrote it down.
“I’m checking my credit.”
“Fine.”
“And if there’s anything else—anything—you tell me before I find it.”
“There isn’t.”
He watched her.
For once, he decided not to argue with the answer.
He would verify it.
That night, Yvette helped him obtain his free credit reports through the official process.
They read every line.
One old utility account.
Closed.
Paid.
No credit cards Malik did not recognize.
No auto loans.
No collections.
Malik released a breath he did not know he had been holding.
Yvette did not.
“She still used your information.”
“I know.”
“Without consent.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to do something about it?”
Malik stared at the report.
“What would I do?”
“That depends what you want.”
“I don’t want my mom arrested.”
“I didn’t say arrest.”
“Everybody keeps saying document things like we’re building a case.”
“We’re building clarity.”
He looked at her.
Yvette softened.
“Malik, consequences do not automatically mean police.”
He nodded.
That mattered.
He wanted boundaries.
He wanted his money back if possible.
He wanted the truth.
He did not want revenge.
At Tanya’s house, another conversation was happening.
Raymond stood in the kitchen with both palms on the table.
“You told him about the gas?”
“He asked.”
“You always panic.”
“I’m tired of lying.”
Raymond laughed.
“Now you’re lying?”
“I told him his rent was about responsibility.”
“It was.”
“No. I needed money.”
“Same difference.”
“It is not the same difference.”
Raymond stared at her.
“So what? You want to pay him back now?”
“I don’t know.”
“With what money?”
Tanya flinched.
Raymond saw it.
“That’s what I thought.”
He paced.
“You cancel the business loan, you got your sister in your ear, Malik acting like he owns the place. Meanwhile, who was here when that mortgage company was calling you every day?”
“You were.”
“Who gave you forty-three hundred?”
“You did.”
“Who stood beside you?”
“You did.”
His voice softened.
It was the voice Tanya had fallen in love with.
“You weren’t weak when you charged Malik. You were teaching him.”
Tanya almost accepted it.
Almost.
Then she remembered Malik saying: Why didn’t you tell me you needed help?
Because shame had been easier to transfer than admit.
“Where did the forty-three hundred come from?” she asked.
Raymond went still.
“My savings.”
“What account?”
He scoffed.
“Again with this?”
“I’m asking.”
“Cash.”
“You had forty-three hundred dollars cash?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust banks.”
Tanya stared.
“You have a car loan.”
“That’s different.”
“You use banking apps.”
“So?”
She pulled out her phone.
“I want to see the withdrawals.”
Raymond laughed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have to prove my money to you.”
“You expected me to put thirty-eight thousand of my home equity into your business.”
“Our business.”
“Thirty percent mine.”
His expression changed.
“Tanya.”
“No. I want to know where the rescue money came from.”
“You really letting Malik do this to us?”
The sentence struck her.
Not answer.
Blame Malik.
Again.
Tanya whispered, “Did you take the two hundred from his room?”
Raymond’s face hardened.
“No.”
“Did you borrow it?”
“No.”
“Did you tell DeShawn my son’s rent was going to repay him?”
“People talk.”
“Did you?”
Raymond grabbed his jacket.
“I’m done being interrogated.”
“Then answer one question.”
He headed toward the door.
Tanya spoke louder.
“Where did the forty-three hundred come from?”
He stopped.
His hand remained on the knob.
Then he looked over his shoulder.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
Raymond smiled.
It was not warm.
“Ask your sister.”
He left.
Tanya stood frozen.
Twenty minutes later, she called Yvette.
Her sister answered suspiciously.
“What?”
Tanya did not bother with greetings.
“Did you give Raymond money two years ago?”
Silence.
Tanya’s stomach turned.
“Yvette?”
Her sister finally spoke.
“I gave you money.”
Tanya stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Forty-five hundred dollars.”
“When?”
“When you were behind on the mortgage.”
Tanya gripped the counter.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You gave me twenty-five hundred.”
“I gave you twenty-five hundred directly.”
Yvette’s voice hardened.
“And I gave Raymond another two thousand because he told me you were too embarrassed to take more from me.”
Tanya lowered herself into a chair.
Raymond’s supposed forty-three-hundred-dollar rescue suddenly broke apart.
Twenty-five hundred from Yvette directly.
Two thousand from Yvette through Raymond.
And perhaps only eighteen hundred from Raymond—if even that.
Tanya whispered, “He told me it was his money.”
Yvette went silent.
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Then:
“Tanya, how much else has he lied about?”
