Chapter 15 - Darius’s Father
Andre Grant smiled as though he had been invited.
Darius did not move.
Keisha stepped in front of him.
“What are you doing here?”
Andre spread his hands.
“Seeing my son.”
“You don’t come here.”
“Apparently I do now.”
Marcus approached.
Jordan stayed near the car.
Andre looked Marcus up and down.
“You must be Marcus.”
Marcus’s expression remained controlled.
“You need to leave.”
Andre laughed.
“Man, I’m talking to my family.”
Darius whispered, “Mom?”
Keisha turned.
“Go inside.”
Andre’s smile disappeared.
“Don’t do that.”
Keisha faced him.
“Inside, Darius.”
Darius looked between the adults.
Then at Jordan.
Jordan nodded toward the apartment.
Darius went inside.
Andre watched him leave.
“That’s how you’ve been playing it?”
Keisha’s hands trembled.
Marcus saw.
“Leave.”
Andre looked at Marcus.
“You like giving orders?”
“No.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“I like boundaries.”
Andre laughed.
Jordan recognized the danger in Marcus’s posture.
He walked over.
“Dad.”
Marcus glanced at him.
Jordan deliberately said it again.
“Dad.”
The word landed.
Andre heard it too.
His expression hardened.
“That your boy?”
Marcus nodded.
“Yes.”
Andre looked at Jordan.
“Then maybe you should worry about him.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened.
Marcus answered calmly.
“I can worry about more than one person.”
Jordan noticed the sentence.
Not everywhere.
More than one person.
Andre looked toward Keisha.
“We need to talk about what you owe.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
Keisha said, “I owe you nothing.”
Andre pulled out his phone.
“Maybe we should ask Darius what he thinks about those videos.”
Keisha went pale.
Marcus stepped forward.
Jordan grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
Marcus stopped.
Jordan looked toward Andre.
“If you’re threatening her, say it clearly.”
Andre laughed.
“You recording me, kid?”
Jordan held up his phone.
“Yes.”
Andre’s smile vanished.
Marcus looked at Jordan, startled.
Jordan’s hands were trembling, but his voice stayed steady.
“You came onto private property demanding money and threatening to show a thirteen-year-old videos of his mother having panic attacks.”
Andre’s eyes narrowed.
“You think you’re smart?”
Jordan swallowed.
“Smart enough not to hit you.”
Marcus understood the message.
He stepped back.
Keisha looked at Jordan.
Andre cursed under his breath.
“You people deserve each other.”
He walked toward his car.
Before getting in, he pointed at Keisha.
“This isn’t finished.”
Jordan kept recording until the car disappeared.
Then his hands started shaking badly.
Marcus took the phone gently.
“You okay?”
Jordan nodded.
“No.”
Marcus almost smiled at the honesty.
“Good answer.”
Keisha sat on the curb.
Her composure collapsed.
Jordan had never seen her cry like that.
Not controlled tears.
Not anger.
Fear.
Marcus crouched in front of her.
“We call police.”
Keisha shook her head automatically.
“No.”
Marcus did not argue.
He simply said, “I’m calling.”
Keisha looked at him.
Marcus held her gaze.
“You don’t have to manage him.”
The sentence broke something.
She nodded.
Police took a report.
Jordan provided the video.
Because Andre had demanded money and referenced potentially damaging material, officers advised Keisha to preserve every message and avoid direct contact.
No dramatic arrest happened.
No handcuffs.
Just documentation.
That realism unsettled Jordan more.
Danger did not always end in a clean scene.
Sometimes it became a case number.
Later, Darius sat at the kitchen table.
Keisha told him carefully that Andre had shown up.
Darius stared at his hands.
“Why now?”
Keisha sat beside him.
“Because he wants control.”
“Does he want me?”
The question silenced everyone.
Keisha’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
Darius nodded.
Jordan sat across from him.
Darius looked over.
“Did your dad stay?”
Jordan understood the question.
“Yeah.”
Darius swallowed.
“Okay.”
Marcus sat in the living room nearby.
He heard.
The sentence cut him.
Jordan stayed with Darius until almost midnight.
When he and Marcus finally drove home, the car was quiet.
Halfway there Marcus said, “You stopped me from doing something stupid.”
Jordan looked out the window.
“You would’ve hit him.”
“Probably.”
“That would’ve made everything worse.”
“I know.”
Jordan glanced over.
Marcus smiled weakly.
“When did you become the responsible one?”
Jordan looked back toward the road.
“Probably around the time you started borrowing from me.”
Marcus winced.
“Fair.”
Jordan almost smiled.
Then Marcus became serious.
“What you did tonight was brave.”
Jordan shook his head.
“I was scared.”
“That’s usually where brave starts.”
Jordan looked at him.
Marcus continued driving.
The words felt different coming from someone who had spent years avoiding fear.
At home, Jordan opened the hallway closet.
He looked at the championship trophy.
For the first time, he took it out.
Marcus saw him.
Jordan carried it upstairs.
He did not display it.
Not yet.
Before sleeping, Jordan checked his email.
Carolina State had sent the campus itinerary.
Beneath it was another message.
ATLANTA ELITE SHOWCASE — PLAYER INFORMATION.
Jordan opened it.
At the bottom was a travel section.
Parent/Guardian Attending?
Jordan stared at the question.
Then typed:
Marcus Walker — Father.
His finger hovered over SUBMIT.
He remembered the empty seat.
The false card.
The hidden money.
Then he remembered Marcus stepping back from Andre because Jordan asked him to.
Jordan clicked SUBMIT.
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Trust was not back.
But for the first time, Jordan allowed the possibility that it could return.
