Later that evening, Jamal lay on his bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the lamp on his nightstand. The air smelled faintly of fresh linen and the lingering scent of his cologne.
Since it was late in the night, the house was quiet, the kind of silence that made his thoughts louder.
And right now, all his thoughts were on Abigail.
He wondered how she was doing. If her stepsister was still making her life miserable. If she was adjusting to school. If she thought of him or missed him the way he missed her.
It frustrated him not knowing.
He hated being this powerless, unable to just show up at her doorstep and take her away from whatever mess she was stuck in.
Mari's suggestion from earlier replayed in his head. Getting someone to sketch Abigail and using that to track her down wasn't a bad idea.
It wasn't like he was broadcasting her face for dangerous reasons— she wasn't a fugitive, she was just a girl he cared about.
And they were going to go about it the smart way by having Mari act like she was the one who knew Abigail.
That shouldn't cause any trouble for Abigail. There was nothing wrong with a female friend reaching out to her. Her family certainly wouldn't give her trouble over that.
Even so, a part of him wasn't completely convinced but that was the only option left to try.
He sat up and reached for his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. Tariq – Artist.
Jamal clicked on the contact and pressed call.
It rang twice before a groggy voice answered.
"Bro, do you know what time it is?" Tariq mumbled.
"Yeah, it's past 10 pm but I know you accept business calls at any time. So, don't act like I disturbed your sleep else I'm taking the job elsewhere."
Tariq sighed. "Fair enough. I wasn't sleeping deeply, anyway. What's up?"
Jamal smirked. "I need a portrait done. Fast."
There was a pause. "Of?"
"A girl."
A low chuckle. "Figures."
Jamal rolled his eyes. "I'll send you the details. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, heart-shaped face…" He trailed off, picturing Abigail in his mind. Her warm, gentle eyes. The way her lips curved when she smiled. The way the bedside lamp caught the strands of her hair and made them glow as laid in bed chatting. He wanted it all captured perfectly.
One thing was for sure— he wanted a portrait of her for himself. He didn't just want to find her. He wanted to keep a piece of her close, even if it was only on paper for now.
Tariq hummed. "Got it. You got a picture of her?"
Jamal sighed. "No."
"Damn. That makes it harder. But if you give me enough details, I can work with it."
"How soon can you get it done?"
"If you're paying extra?" Tariq yawned. "Three days."
"Make it a day. I'll double your rate."
Now Tariq was awake. "Triple it and you'd get it by noon tomorrow."
"You got it," Jamal said.
"Deal, man. Send me everything you remember about her. You can come over to the studio by noon."
Jamal hung up and shot him a text with more details, then put his phone down. A slow breath left his lips as he stretched, feeling a bit more hopeful. Maybe this plan would work this time.
Just as he was settling into his thoughts again, a knock sounded at his door.
"Jamal, I'm coming in. You have a minute to cover yourself if you're naked because I don't wanna see your talala," Mari's voice rang through the door.
Jamal let out a low chuckle. "I'm decent. Come in."
The door creaked open, and Mari stepped in, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She wore thick, oversized pajamas that did absolutely nothing for her figure. Her hair was tied into a messy bun, and she looked every bit the geek she denied being.
Jamal grinned. "I swear, I'll never understand how you go from looking like a whole baddie outside to looking like…this inside the house."
Mari rolled her eyes, plopping onto his bed. "Because inside the house, I don't have to impress anyone. I can be myself."
He raised a brow. "Remind me again, what stops you from being yourself outside? Why do you need to impress anyone?"
She sighed dramatically. "Jamal, my mom is the sensational Andy. The woman is a walking fashion statement. She oozes sex appeal merely by breathing. Do you know how weird it would be if I didn't at least try to match her vibe a little?"
"You don't have to. You put yourself under unnecessary pressure. My stepdad is Matt Swift, an A-list actor. You don't see me…"
Mari huffed, pulling a pillow onto her lap. "That's easy for you to say. You weren't the kid who was constantly asked if you were sure your hot mom was actually your mom. Do you know how many people called me an ugly duckling growing up?"
Jamal shook his head. "You were never ugly, Mari. And I've always told you—don't let people's words define how you see yourself. It's not the water around a ship that sinks it…"
"but the water that gets inside. Blah blah, I know, motivational speaker," Mari smirked and finished for him, "I didn't come here for your pep talk. We've been through this argument countless times and as I've always said, I don't think there's any ground for comparison between us."
Jamal leaned back. "Why are you here when you should be in bed, anyway?"
She shrugged. "No real reason. Just wanted to hang out. We leave for school in the morning, and I didn't want to waste the night."
Jamal chuckled. "And Emily? What is she up to?"
"She's studying."
"Shouldn't you be studying as well?"
Mari scoffed. "I have the whole semester to study. Spending the evening with you isn't going to make my grades drop. Besides, I don't need to study as hard as Emily. I've got real-world experience thanks to my dad. I bet I have what it takes to be a cybersecurity lecturer if I wanted," she said, and he chuckled, though he knew she wasn't merely bragging.
She hacked into computers for fun.
Jamal eyed her for a moment. "So, why are you really here? You sure you don't want to say something? It feels like you have something on your mind."
Mari grinned. "You know me too well."
Jamal groaned. "I don't like that gleam in your eyes."
She laughed. "Relax. I just have a question."
Jamal narrowed his eyes. "If this is about a boy—"
"It's not," she cut in quickly. "I just… wanted to ask about your experience."
Jamal frowned. "Experience?"
Mari gave him a pointed look. "You know what I mean."
His eyes widened slightly. "Wait. Are you seriously asking me about sex?"
Mari burst out laughing. "Not details! I just want to know if it's really as big a deal as people make it sound."
Jamal ran a hand down his face. "How am I supposed to explain that to you? I'm a guy. I don't think sex means the same to both genders."
"Yeah, but as a guy, is it really all that?"
Jamal sighed. "Mari, why not ask your Mom? Aunt Andy is blunt, so I know she'll give you a really good and detailed response."
"Of course she has told me about sex. Since I was twelve. But she didn't exactly tell me how it feels. That's what I want to know. Besides you should know that hearing it from oldies isn't the same as hearing it from someone around your age."
Jamal chuckled, "Don't let her hear you refer to her as an oldie."
"I wouldn't dare," Mari agreed with a laugh. "But seriously, is sex a big deal? Yes or no?"
Jamal shook his head. "I will say it is something you need to experience for yourself. With the right person."
Mari rolled her eyes. "Blah blah, 'right person.' How did you know Abigail was the right person? Wasn't she just a stranger to you until you did it? Maybe I should borrow a page from your book and do that, too."
Jamal shot her a sharp look. "Don't even think about it."
Mari smirked. "Why are men so unnecessarily protective of their sisters and friends? Do I need to remind you that you did it with a girl my age?"
"That's different."
"In what way?"
Jamal hesitated. "It was Abigail's idea."
Mari raised a brow. "And it could be my idea too."
Jamal groaned. "You have no idea the kind of men you could meet. Abigail was lucky to meet me. What if it was someone dangerous?"
Mari rolled her eyes. "Why do men act like only men can be dangerous? For all you know, Abigail could've been the serial killer."
Jamal exhaled, shaking his head. "You're giving me a headache. Go away."
Mari giggled, "Why? I thought we were having a really nice conversation. I'm enjoying myself."
"I'm not," Jamal said, and she grinned.
"You're going to miss me when I leave," she said and he nodded.
"I'd rather miss you than deal with the headache you're giving me right now."
Before Mari could respond, the door swung open again. Jamal groaned when Emily walked in, and Mari giggled.
"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be studying or writing a story or whatever?" Jamal asked as Emily jumped on the bed trying to get between him and Mari.
"How do you expect me to concentrate on reading when you two are having all the fun? Besides, I'm done with my assignments," she said with a grin and Jamal groaned.
Mari cackled. "Looks like you're stuck with us for the night. I'm going to annoy the heck out of you for trying to throw me out."
Jamal sighed dramatically. "I can't wait for you both to leave."
They just laughed, settling in for a long night of banter.