10th Commandment | Revamped

Chapter 24

Two weeks later:

Taraji spent countless nights in tears since the last time she laid eyes on Fantasia; the pain still lingered. Just thinking about her brought on fresh waves of sadness, leading to more tears. She felt utterly miserable, and it showed—she avoided Stoney like the plague and replayed the same material for her commercials.

She visited all of Fantasia's old haunts: clubs, bars, penthouses, coffee shops, warehouses, and diners, hoping to catch a glimpse of her at night, but there was no sign of Fantasia anywhere.

Then it hit her—the phone! The very device Fantasia had used to call her before their breakup. Rushing to the bureau, she enlisted an IT tech at her side to help retrieve the contact and trace the phone. The guy obliged, while Taraji paced anxiously behind him.

“Got it! Oh wow, it says Philly… from the Philadelphia police department,” he reported.
“What?” she replied, her heart racing.
“Yeah.”
Taraji's eyes darted to the screen. “Police department…” she murmured, deep in thought.

“Hey, can you do me a favor? I’m heading to Philly, and when I land, can you let me know if the phone's location changes? Just keep me posted, and let’s keep this between us,” she requested, sliding the boy a tip. He smiled and nodded, replying, “Yes, boss.” Without wasting a moment, Taraji hurried to the airport to catch a flight to Philly, even if it was late.

The following day, she checked into a motel to maintain her cover. The IT guy texted her the new phone location, and Taraji quickly showered, dressed in black yoga gear and a baseball cap, and set out jogging using GPS to navigate to the spot. It was a quaint, vintage-looking townhouse.

She stood outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone coming out, but no one appeared. She decided to approach a nearby neighbor. “I’m really sorry if I startled you; I’m from New York, and I’m a jogger. Whenever I see a vintage house, I can’t help but stare. I’m looking to buy one and this area is on my radar. I’m Amelia, by the way,” she introduced herself.

“Jacqueline, and this is my husband, John. Come in for a cup of tea,” they invited, and she accepted.

She inquired about the neighborhood's safety. “It’s safer on this side; the police patrol regularly due to two officers living on this street. One lives in that charming house you admired, and another is just down the block. It’s a safe spot, but I doubt anyone’s selling,” Jacqueline explained.

“I see. Is the officer a family person? Married?” Taraji probed for more details.

Jacqueline chuckled. “Are you single, dear? I have a single grandson. Actually, the officer next door is a woman. She was married, but it didn’t go well; her ex lives in New York City now. She’s got three kids and—"
“Lesbian!” Jacqueline whispered.

“Oh?” Taraji replied, intrigued.

“Yes! She often has this beautiful lady over—a tomboyish type, always in baggy clothing and sneakers, smoking cigars in the backyard. It’s almost 11; if you peek out my kitchen backdoor, you’ll likely catch her in the act," Jacqueline informed her. Taraji quickly made her way to the kitchen and peered outside.

There was Fantasia, soaking up the sun while smoking a cigar, dressed in Timberland boots, denim shorts, and a baseball jersey with a cap. Taraji's breath hitched; she looked stunning, carefree. Her heart sank further as she noticed the lovely woman who had picked Fantasia up just a moment ago, appearing behind her and handing her a phone. As Fantasia answered, the woman wrapped her arms around her, holding her close...

Tears welled up in Taraji's eyes.
“I told you, lesbians,” the elderly woman murmured, startling Taraji from her reverie. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. Thank you for your kindness, you’ve been wonderful. I really must go!” she said, sniffling as she hurried out, leaving the elderly couple perplexed.