2 – My Hero

There was a time in my life I considered Marcus Forrester my hero. I was eight and my mom and I were living in Chatham. She was renting a small three bedroom house with a friend who had four children. We had to share a bedroom and describing my living situation as cramped would've been an understatement.

Tisha was the oldest of us kids, bossing us around whenever she could. The moms were working two jobs and were hardly around—both of them didn't have a clue that Tisha and I were cutting tons of classes to hang out at the park. She had recently started to be interested in boys, watching them with googly eyes, while I got a good use out of the rusty playground equipment.

The day I met Marcus was a beautiful summer's day, just a couple of weeks before my school vacation. Tisha, a few boys, and I had been playing catch when I slumped down on a bench, totally exhausted. Thirst burned in my throat as the heated air glimmered in front of my eyes.

"Hey, Patrice, let's go to the shop," Tisha called. "I'm starving."

I had no money. "Naw, I'll stay. You go."

"Shoo, girl, come on. I'll get you a pop."

Soft drinks were my weak spot. I had been struggling on and off with my weight with the result that my mother had cut all sugar from my life. Having a desperate sweet tooth, I had been suffering.

I toddled behind Tisha and a boy who had wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He was tall, but thinner than a stick. His friends called him Skinny. He must've been around Tisha's age since she knew him from middle school.

The air conditioning of the corner shop was broken and inside, it was almost as hot as outside except next to the coolers. There, we huddled, Tisha and the boy counting their money and whispering to each other under their breath. I stood around with a pretend bored face. Something was up with them. A prickling unrest was slowly spreading in the pit of my stomach as the minutes trickled by.

Tisha clutched my arm and pulled me into the next aisle. "Grab a couple of cans of beer when Skinny pays for the Cokes." Her chin jutted at the cooler with the alcoholic beverages. "They're right over there."

My head shook adamantly. "Where am I gonna put them? I don't wanna do this, Tisha."

"You can stick them into the pockets of your cargo pants. They should be big enough."

I gave the bottom part of my body a quick once over. Unfortunately, she was right. The pants were an inheritance of her brother and way too big for me, only kept in place by a pink belt with little hearts. They were so baggy that they could easily hide the contraband.

"Please Tisha, don't make me do this," I whined. "If I get caught, I'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Naw, you're still too young for the cops to do anything." She nudged my shoulder. "Besides, I got your back, girl. The clerk is gonna be busy with Skinny and won't even pay no attention to you. Don't worry, you won't get caught."

I was still not convinced but if I chickened out, they would refuse to hang with me. Tisha was my only friend. "Okay, but you make sure that guy ain't looking."

Peeking around the aisle shelf, I watched them stroll up to the counter. Skinny placed three Cokes in front of the clerk. "Yo, man, what were last night's lottery numbers?"

The clerk started to peck away at some machine. This was my opportunity. I darted over to the cooler. My hand reached out for a can of Coors. It was ice cold, my fingers almost numb when the metal container glided into my pocket. Quickly, I went for can number two.

"What you doing, kid?"

I spun around to find a tall dude gazing down on me.

"I—I—" My face was on fire while my mind refused to give me a believable excuse.

He kept staring at me without even flinching.

After a few moments, I gave up. "I'm sorry." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. "I'll put them back."

"Don't bother. I know what you and your friends have been up to. Loads of beer has been disappearing." He grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me in the direction of the till, ignoring my whines. "Call the cops, Tyrell. I finally got one of the little thieves."

"Please, mister, I was gonna pay for those." My eyes darted around for Tisha and Skinny, praying they would somehow help me, but they had vanished from the face of the earth.

The man laughed. "What? You're twenty-one now, kid?"

I realized how silly I had sounded. There was no way out of this mess and we both knew it. Tears rolled down my cheeks while we were waiting for the cops. My mom would spank me for sure.

By the time the patrol car pulled up in front of the door, I was hysterical, my nose so stuffed up that I could barely breathe. The cops exchanged a few words with the dude who caught me before the lady cop walked over to me.

She squatted down, one of her knees supporting her weight. "What's your name?"

"Patrice." A hiccup shook my body. "Patrice Williams."

"Okay, Patrice, do you know your mother's phone number?"

In total misery, I nodded. "Please don't call my mom. I swear I'll never steal anything again."

"I wish I could do that, but we're required to call her and we also have to take you down to the station. I'm sorry."

With fresh tears in my eyes, I managed to stutter out my mom's number. My teeth chattered uncontrollably when they shoved me into the back of the cruiser. All the way down to the station, I was biting my thumb nail until I tasted blood.

The cops were nice—the lady even got me a candy bar and a juice box. My stomach was in knots and I got sick after the second bite. With my whole body shaking, I was waiting for my mom. The tears kept streaming down my face when I pictured her furious face.

When she finally arrived, she had this defeated look on her face that almost broke my heart. Seeing how disappointed she was in me was worth than a slap across my face. At some point, when she was still talking to the cops, she started to cry.

I was chewing my lip, totally clueless what was going on. "I'm sorry, Mom," is all I could mumble when she dropped into a chair next to me. She didn't look at me once. The minutes passed in pressing silence while she waited for something. Since no one told me what was happening, my heart kept plummeting further and further into my knee caps. I wiped away my tears, wishing so much for my mom to hug me and tell me that things would be fine—or at least yell at me—but this silence was the worst.

A man stepped out of an office, laughing with some cops, when his eyes fell on my mom. He squinted. "Chantal, is that you?"

My mother jerked out of her daze at the sound of her name. "Marcus?" She managed to produce a crooked smile when he walked over.

A frown cut across his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"No." My mother's voice was thick, tears welling in her eyes. "My daughter was caught shoplifting and they're calling social services to determine if she should be placed in foster care."

His eyebrows raised. "Why is this not a station disposition?" he asked the lady cop. His tone had totally changed and the temperature around us dropped noticeably. I shrunk in my seat, suddenly afraid of him.

"The girl tried to steal alcohol and there's evidence that she might be part of a gang."

His gaze landed on me before he smiled. Golden specs reflected in his dark eyes which caused a sudden calmness to spread through my limps. My tears had dried up by the time he squatted next to me.

"Hi, I'm Marcus." His hand extended and I eagerly shook it. "What's your name?"

"Patrice."

"It's nice to meet you, Patrice." His voice was soothing and I hung to his lips. "I used to go to high school with your mom. That's how I know her."

I nodded, appreciative that he wasn't keeping me in the dark like the rest of the adults. "Are you a cop?"

"No. I work with the District Attorney's Office. Do you know what they do?"

I shook my head.

"We make sure that criminals go to jail."

That scared me again and I lowered my gaze.

"But you don't have to worry." His fingers grazed the back of my hand, drawing my attention back to his face. "I want to help you."

In that moment, a tiny flicker of hope spread in my belly. "How?"

"Did you try to steal the alcohol for yourself?"

I shook my head again, but stayed quiet. Tisha always told me that tattletales were scrum.

"Who told you to take it?"

"My friend." My voice quivered and I dropped my gaze again.

"Patrice, look at me." His soft voice was like a magnet for my eyes. "What's your friend's name?"

"Tisha." The word automatically rolled off my lips—I was almost hypnotized in his presence.

Next to me, my mother gasped. "That little bitch."

"Was it her idea?" he asked, neither paying attention to my mother nor breaking eye contact.

"No. There was a boy with us. His name is Skinny."

He and the cop lady exchanged a glance.

"If I showed you a picture, could you tell me if it was him?"

"I think so." I sniffled. "Will they be in trouble?"

"Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine."

Somehow, I believed him. "Can I go home with my mom now?"

"Not yet." He rose to his feet. "The officer here will take your statement and we'll show you a few pictures. Just tell the truth and I promise I'll take you and your mom home afterwards."

A heavy stone was lifted off my chest by the way he smiled at my mom. He was so nice and in that moment, he turned into my hero. The next few hours went by in a haze. They showed me loads of pictures, some of them of Skinny, but mostly of an older guy who looked a little like him. I had never seen him before and was upset that I wasn't as helpful as he had hoped. Marcus assured me that it was okay—I shouldn't sweat it.

At some point, they dragged in a crying Tisha who was accompanied by her cursing mother.

"Patrice is lying. My daughter was in school all day."

The room became blurry when I stared at Marcus—what if he didn't believe me any longer? Yet, with his entrancing smile, my worries immediately evaporated with a puff. He signaled to the cops who ushered Tisha and her mother into a different room, their yelling drowned out as soon as the door closed behind them.

Marcus studied my mom. "You look exhausted, Chantal. Let me take you and Patrice home. If we need any more information from her, I'll call you and you can bring her back in."

My mother's lips twisted as if she was about to cry again. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help today. If it hadn't been for you—" A sob ran through her.

"Hey, come here." He crouched next to her, pulling her head against his shoulder.

"You don't understand how hard it's been. Patrice's father is a total deadbeat and I just don't seem to get ahead. If I didn't have to work all the time, Patrice would've never gotten into trouble."

"Don't blame yourself." He stroked her back. "You're doing an excellent job. Patrice seems like a great girl and things will work out."

In that moment, I wanted nothing more than him becoming my mom's boyfriend. I remember thinking that he could make problems disappear and by the way the cops were treating him and called him 'Sir' and 'Mr. Forrester', he had to be someone important.

We stopped by a McDonalds on the way and he got me a cheeseburger and fries, even insisting that I would be allowed to eat soft ice-cream with strawberry sauce afterward. That raised him by a few notches since he apparently knew how to handle my mom.

"Can I take you out to dinner on Saturday?" he asked when he dropped us at the curb.

"I'd love to, but don't know if I can get a babysitter." My mom shrugged a "sorry" at me when she saw my sullen face. For once, she was being asked out on a date by a decent guy and I ended up being in the way again.

"Then why don't you just bring her along?" His eyes twinkled when he winked at me. "It'd be an honor to take you two gorgeous ladies out."

This pushed him over the line. When my mom accepted his invitation, I almost clapped. He waved me good night when I got out of the car after he called my mom's phone to make sure she had his number saved in case she needed anything in between. I couldn't believe how this terrible day had turned around—and all thanks to Marcus Forrester.

So this took you back to the beginning and you saw a very different side of Marcus. He and Chantal have history together and you will soon find out that he had always had an infatuation with her. 

We'll have a couple of more chapters of the nice Marcus before he'll show his true colors. Hope you're enjoying this story so far. Please share your thoughts and don't forget the little star if the chapter deserved it. See you next Saturday and thanks for reading :)