Chapter 2 - The Agreement
Alicia Price lived fifteen minutes away by car and nearly fifty by bus.
Jordan had never hated that fact more.
He sat near the back, backpack clutched against his knees, replaying every second of the driveway.
Marcus smiling.
The keys falling into Darius’s hand.
Keisha saying, You told me Jordan already had transportation.
His father had not simply refused him.
He had prepared other people to believe Jordan had never needed help.
That was what kept catching in Jordan’s chest.
The lie had required planning.
Alicia was waiting at the kitchen table when he arrived.
She had changed out of her hospital administrative scrubs and into a faded Howard University sweatshirt. A thick brown accordion folder sat in front of her.
Jordan stopped in the doorway.
“What is that?”
“Sit down.”
“Mom.”
“Please.”
He sat.
Alicia studied his face.
“You cried?”
“No.”
She gave him the look mothers gave sons when both knew the answer.
Jordan looked away.
“Just tell me.”
She opened the folder.
On top was a copy of his parents’ divorce settlement from five years earlier.
Jordan recognized the signatures.
Marcus Price.
Alicia Price.
He frowned.
“I’ve seen this.”
“You’ve seen parts.”
Alicia turned several pages.
“When your father and I divorced, we argued about college, your health insurance, extracurriculars, everything. Marcus wanted to handle certain expenses directly because he said he didn’t trust me not to use child support for household bills.”
Jordan winced.
“That sounds like him.”
“Yes.”
She pushed a page toward him.
A paragraph had been highlighted.
Jordan read.
Upon Jordan Price’s completion of high school and maintenance of either employment or postsecondary enrollment, each parent shall contribute up to five thousand dollars toward the purchase of a safe and reliable motor vehicle, subject to reasonable proof of purchase and Jordan contributing at least twenty-five percent of the vehicle cost.
Jordan read it twice.
Then a third time.
“What?”
“I put in the clause.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you turning eighteen expecting a present. I wanted you to save first.”
“I did.”
“I know.”
Jordan’s throat tightened.
“So he owes five thousand?”
“Not automatically. The agreement caps our contributions at five thousand each. The exact amount depends on the purchase.”
“But when I asked him—”
“He knew.”
Jordan pushed back from the table.
“He knew I had three thousand.”
“Yes.”
“He knew the Corolla was sixty-four hundred.”
“Yes.”
“And he told me he was broke.”
Alicia nodded.
Jordan laughed bitterly.
“He could have covered half the difference without even reaching five thousand.”
“Yes.”
“Did you say something to him?”
“Three months ago.”
Jordan’s eyes snapped toward her.
Alicia opened her phone.
She showed him an email.
Marcus,
Jordan told me he has saved almost $3,000 and is looking at cars. Please remember Section 8(c) of the settlement. I can contribute my share when he chooses a reliable vehicle.
Marcus had replied two days later.
I’m aware of the agreement. I’ll handle my responsibility when appropriate.
Jordan stared.
“He lied to my face.”
Alicia closed the phone.
“That’s not the part that made me tell you to bring the envelope.”
She reached deeper into the folder.
Another document appeared.
Bank statements.
Jordan frowned.
“What account is that?”
“Your grandfather’s.”
“My grandfather?”
“Before Dad died, he gave me and Marcus ten thousand dollars for you. Not for college specifically. He said education, transportation, or getting established after high school.”
Jordan remembered his grandfather, Theodore Price, taking him fishing when he was eleven.
He remembered peppermint candies in the glove compartment.
He remembered a funeral full of adults speaking softly.
“I didn’t know.”
“You were thirteen.”
Alicia’s mouth tightened.
“We deposited it into a joint custodial savings account. The divorce agreement required both of us to approve withdrawals above five hundred dollars.”
Jordan looked at the statement.
The account had held $10,684.12 eighteen months earlier.
Then withdrawals began.
$950.
$1,200.
$875.
$2,500.
Jordan’s fingers went numb.
“What is this?”
“I found out last month.”
“How?”
“I was organizing old financial records before refinancing the house.”
“Where did it go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t approve those.”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“Marcus moved the money after changing the account’s mailing address.”
Jordan looked up.
“Could he do that?”
“He shouldn’t have been able to withdraw more than five hundred without my signature.”
“But he did.”
“Yes.”
“How much is left?”
Alicia turned the page.
$2,031.44.
Jordan stared.
Almost eighty-seven hundred dollars gone.
His breathing changed.
“Did Dad take it?”
“The transactions were initiated under his online banking profile.”
Jordan stood.
The chair scraped backward.
“He stole from me?”
Alicia stood too.
“We don’t know enough to use that word yet.”
“What else do you call it?”
“I call it money your grandfather intended for you that your father accessed without telling either of us.”
Jordan paced to the counter.
Every part of him wanted to call Marcus.
Alicia caught his wrist when he reached for his phone.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been trying to get records.”
“You knew for a month?”
“I knew money was missing. I didn’t know why.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted facts before I damaged your relationship with your father.”
Jordan pulled his arm away.
“You were still protecting him.”
“No. I was protecting you from an accusation I couldn’t prove.”
Jordan turned toward the window.
His reflection looked older than it had that afternoon.
Alicia spoke more softly.
“When I saw the car tonight, I stopped believing the timing was coincidence.”
Jordan’s phone buzzed.
A text from Marcus.
We need to talk. You embarrassed me in front of Keisha and Darius. Call me tonight.
Jordan stared.
Embarrassed me.
Not I’m sorry.
Not I lied.
Alicia read his face.
“What did he say?”
Jordan handed her the phone.
Her jaw tightened.
Then another message appeared.
And do not let your mother turn this into something bigger than it is.
Jordan and Alicia looked at each other.
Neither spoke.
A third message arrived.
I know she’s been digging into accounts that don’t concern her.
Alicia’s face drained of color.
Jordan felt a chill move through him.
“He knows.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Alicia slowly sat.
Jordan looked at the bank statements.
Then at Marcus’s message.
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His father had not simply taken money.
He had been waiting for someone to find it.
