Chapter 8 - The Application
Daniel Ruiz would not discuss details until Nia completed identity verification.
By six o’clock, Ms. Bennett, Nia, and Marcus Greene were on a conference call with the bank.
The application had been submitted March 17.
Applicant: Nia Bennett.
Requested credit line: $40,000.
Purpose: minority-owned fitness and athletic-performance startup.
Business partner listed: Malik Turner.
Nia stared at her laptop.
Her mother stood behind her.
Mr. Greene remained silent for several seconds.
Finally he said, “Was this application approved?”
“No,” Ruiz replied. “It never reached underwriting because identity verification failed.”
Nia swallowed.
“What failed?”
“The applicant was asked to upload a photo ID and complete facial verification.”
“And they didn’t?”
“They uploaded an image of Ms. Bennett’s driver’s license, but the automated system identified inconsistencies.”
Nia almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
“What image?”
“A photograph of the front of your license.”
Nia’s license had gone missing briefly in March.
She had found it beneath Jasmine’s passenger seat after they went shopping.
At the time, Jasmine said it must have fallen from Nia’s purse.
Nia closed her eyes.
Of course.
“Was my credit affected?”
“There was a hard inquiry. We can provide documentation supporting removal because of suspected identity theft.”
Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder.
Mr. Greene asked, “Can your institution preserve all application metadata?”
“Yes.”
“IP information?”
“Yes.”
“Uploaded documents?”
“Yes.”
“Communications?”
“Yes.”
Ruiz paused.
“I should also tell you the phone number used on the application belongs to an account ending in 4421.”
Nia knew Malik’s number.
It ended in 4421.
There was no ambiguity left.
Mr. Greene said, “Nia, we need to discuss filing a police report.”
Nia stared at the graduation cards stacked nearby.
Yesterday morning, she had believed Malik loved her.
Yesterday afternoon, she believed Jasmine was her sister.
Yesterday evening, both had betrayed her romantically.
Today she had discovered someone had tried to use her identity for forty thousand dollars.
“Do it.”
Her mother looked at her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The word surprised even Nia with its steadiness.
Mr. Greene replied, “I’ll help you organize documentation, but the report needs to come from you.”
“I understand.”
After the call, Nia went upstairs.
She opened the drawer containing Malik’s gifts.
Movie tickets.
A handwritten Valentine’s letter.
A cheap bracelet from their first date.
A photo strip.
She stared at them.
Then put everything into a cardboard box.
Not because she wanted to destroy them.
Because she needed them out of sight.
Her phone buzzed.
Jasmine.
Nia nearly ignored it.
Then opened the message.
You need to see something before you go to police.
Nia typed:
What?
A video appeared.
Twenty-three seconds.
Malik sat in Jasmine’s car.
The date stamp showed March 16.
The night before the loan application.
Jasmine’s voice came from behind the camera.
“You really think she’ll sign?”
Malik laughed.
“She doesn’t have to if we get approved first.”
Jasmine said, “That sounds illegal.”
“It’s not like I’m taking forty grand and disappearing.”
“You’re using her information.”
“I’m building something for us.”
“For you and Nia?”
Malik hesitated.
Then:
“For whoever stays.”
The video ended.
Nia replayed the final sentence.
For whoever stays.
She felt nauseated.
She called Jasmine.
“Why were you recording him?”
“I wasn’t.”
“What?”
“I was sending a Snapchat to my cousin. I accidentally kept recording after I lowered the phone.”
“And you saved it?”
“I found it in Memories today.”
“Why didn’t you send it earlier?”
“I didn’t know it existed.”
Nia believed that part.
Perhaps because Jasmine sounded genuinely terrified.
“Was March sixteen before or after you first slept together?”
“After.”
“How long after?”
“About three weeks.”
Nia sat down slowly.
“So when he said ‘for whoever stays,’ you knew what he meant.”
Jasmine cried.
“I thought he was talking about the gym.”
“No.”
“I know that now.”
“You were already sleeping with him.”
“Yes.”
Nia shut her eyes.
“What did he tell you about me?”
“That you were going to leave him.”
“What else?”
“That when you left for Hawthorne, you’d forget us.”
“Us.”
“You and me.”
Nia understood.
Malik had used the same fear differently.
To Nia, he had portrayed college as abandonment of him.
To Jasmine, he had portrayed college as abandonment of both of them.
He had turned Nia’s ambition into evidence that she did not love them enough.
And Jasmine had been willing to believe him.
“Why did you go along with the loan conversation?”
“I kept telling myself he’d ask you eventually.”
“But he said she doesn’t have to sign.”
“I know.”
“You heard it.”
“Yes.”
“And stayed.”
Jasmine’s silence answered.
Nia looked at the box of memories.
“That’s the part you’ll have to live with, Jasmine.”
“I know.”
“No. You keep saying that after every thing I discover.”
Nia’s voice cracked.
“You knew enough before I knew anything.”
She ended the call.
Ten minutes later, another message arrived.
Not from Jasmine.
Malik.
From an unfamiliar number.
Please don’t go to police. My uncle had nothing to do with this.
Nia stared at it.
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Then another message appeared.
If you file this report, you’re going to destroy more than me.
