Free Crimson Footprints lll: The Finale by Shewanda Pugh

California.
    “Oh hey,” Tak said. “You were down the street from me. I was at UCLA.”
    Which plummeted them to mortal enemies, bickering about every meeting in every sport, right down to men’s water polo. Tak shouted about UCLA being the greatest sports juggernaut to ever grace the planet, while Tyson insisted that they hadn’t a chance in hell of beating anyone in football. They shouted themselves into laughter and then another round of drinks. When the mania died down, a smile still plastered Tyson’s lips.
    “What?” Tak said and slid a scotch his way.
    “I was thinking,” Tyson admitted. “About my time in Afghanistan.”
    “And that made you smile?”
    Tyson looked up at him.
    “There was a guy I served with named Ash. Coolest person you’d ever meet. Only thing we ever disagreed on was sports.”
    Tak smiled. But it was a knowing smile, one anticipating its fall.
    “He died,” Tyson said. “The wrong way.”
    The scotch sat staring at him. For awhile, there was only it and his hands around the glass.
    “He did two tours, like me. Only to get mugged after returning.”
    Tyson threw back his liquor and winced.
    “It’s a shit world we live in,” he said, feeling the heat spread through his belly. “It’s a world where the people you care about—the ones you let get close…”
    He shook his head. There was no point in saying more.
    “You can’t think like that,” Tak said, cutting in as Ash Kobayashi would have. “You can’t…not let people in. It’s not living. It’s not life.”
    Tyson snorted.
    “That’s what Ash would have said.”
    Tak studied him with wide brown eyes, indecision painted his face.
    “I should go check on the family. But if you ever need to talk—about Ash or your trashy alma mater,” he rose and gave Tyson’s shoulder a squeeze. “Come find me. I’ll make sure I’m available.”
    Tyson promised he would before watching him go. How long he sat there afterward, he couldn’t say.

Chapter Eighteen
    Deena closed herself in the study the second she saw the incoming call screen on her cell. Briefly, she considered rejecting it as she had a few others, but she knew that eventually they’d have to talk.
    She answered.
    “Collect call from Homestead Correctional Institution. Do you accept the charges?”
    Deena took a deep breath.
    “Yes.”
    The call chimed through.
    “Deena? It’s Keisha.”
    She found a chair and sat.
    “What’s happened? Did something happen to my mom?”
    A muffled shout distorted whatever her cousin meant to say. In it, Deena felt a stab of fear.
    “No. Only, she needs you to get back with her. She says you told her never to call the house, but when she calls your cell, you never answer.”
    “Keisha—”
    Another shout was followed by a rumble of commotion. Deena’s cousin spat a rude retort.
    “Listen. I’m only calling because your mother asked. She’s looked out for me since I’ve got here. Protected me. Helped me to adjust. I told her I’d get an answer from you.”
    “Well you told her wrong, didn’t you?” Deena snapped. “Because I haven’t made up my mind yet. Now excuse me.”
    She disconnected the call, stood, and faced her husband.
    It was like the steep drop of a rollercoaster.
    “Who was that?” he said.
    “No one. Just business.”
    “It sounded personal.”
    “Fine. Then, it was personal.”
    He watched her as she sauntered for the door.
    “Tell me what’s going on, Dee.”
    Going on, she thought. Her mother was going on. Wasn’t that always the case?
    She opened her mouth.
    “Don’t,” he said. “If it’s gonna be a lie.”
    She hesitated and his eyes went black with anger.
    “Fine,” he said. “Keep your goddamned secrets,” before turning and heading for the door.
    “Tak!”
    She grabbed his arm without knowing what she’d say. He pulled away just enough to give her a polluted once over.
    “Going after someone only works when you mean it, Dee.”
    “I do mean it!” She flung her