The Game Never Ends. Zaire Crown

      Chapter Four

      Upstairs, Tuesday stopped by the nursery to look in on her baby girl. Tanisha was sleeping peacefully with a thumb in her mouth. Physically Tuesday saw so much of herself and Marcus in their daughter; however, it amazed her that at two years, eleven months, Tanisha had already developed a personality distinct from either of theirs. Tuesday just watched her sleep for a while then tiptoed out through the minefield of toys scattered over the floor.

      Marcus had warned her to give Danielle some space, but Tuesday felt what she had to say couldn’t wait.

      Danielle’s room was heaven for a nine-year-old girl. She had an army of plush dolls and stuffed animals as well as a huge LCD television with an assortment of the latest games. In the corner was a six-foot play maze in the shape of a castle that Danielle could crawl into whenever she felt like playing princess. She also had a saltwater aquarium with tropical fish and a cage for her pet ferret.

      Growing up in Detroit, Tuesday had shared a bed with her mother for most of her childhood, and had to sleep on the couch whenever her mother had company, which was often. She didn’t get her own room until she was thirteen and it wasn’t a fraction of the size of Danielle’s. The only amenities were a twelve-inch black and white TV, a twin-sized bed supported by milk crates, and piss-stained sheets hanging as curtains. All she could claim for pets were the rats and roaches that came standard with every rundown flat her mother moved them to.

      Tuesday was happy that her daughters would never know the struggle but was also a little envious. She spoiled the girls as much as Marcus and sometimes worried over that.

      Danielle had a full-sized bed with pink lace and flouncing to continue the princess motif. She was lying on her stomach in her school uniform, hair split into twin pigtails with large spiral curls. Unlike her sibling, Danielle carried none of Tuesday’s or Marcus’s features. Each year Tuesday watched her grow into a more beautiful young lady, but one whose origins were a mystery.

      She studied from a tablet; next to it was a thick open textbook on spherical trigonometry. When Tuesday sat on her bed, Danielle turned and faced the wall.

      “Dani, I know I missed your competition tonight and I know you mad at me. I’m sorry if you feel like I let you down.”

      Danielle had always been a bright girl but about a year back her teachers observed an extremely high aptitude for science and mathematics, prompting Marcus to have her placed in advanced classes. She had become the star of her school’s academic team that competed against other prep schools in Jeopardy-style quiz battles.

      Tuesday continued: “But being mad don’t give you no excuse to disrespect me. The way you treated me downstairs wasn’t cool and I’m not havin’ that. D’you understand?”

      Danielle lay on the opposite side of the bed quiet and still. She seemed to be just waiting for Tuesday to leave.

      Tuesday didn’t appreciate being ignored. “Girl, you hear me talkin’ to you! You don’t get to disrespect me, Dani. Ever!” It was the fiercest tone she had ever taken with her stepdaughter. “Now tell me you understand!”

      Danielle never looked back at her. “I understand. I’m sorry, Tabitha.”

      That was a low blow and Tuesday felt it. A little more than three years back she had come into Danielle’s life as Tabitha Green, but they had long since crossed that bridge. One of the proudest days in Tuesday’s life was when Danielle had started calling her “Momma.” For her to revert to using “Tabitha” really stung Tuesday. Worse was that Danielle was smart enough to know this.

      To Tuesday, the room reflected the struggle of an immature little girl dealing with an adult-sized intellect. Above the plush toys and Barbie dolls were shelves holding books on Newtonian physics and college-level algebra.

      Pride wouldn’t allow Tuesday to show any pain. “Well congratulations on your win. I’m really proud of you.”

      When Danielle didn’t respond, Tuesday just slipped out of the room thinking perhaps that Marcus was right and she should’ve waited.

      Tuesday still couldn’t believe that in such a short period she had gone from never wanting children to not being able to imagine her life without them. It was Danielle who had changed Tuesday’s opinions about kids. At six, she had been so much more mature than her years, and the dedication Marcus showed her as a single parent was a big reason why Tuesday had fallen for him. The girl had made such an impression that Tuesday risked her own life to get Danielle back when she was kidnapped.

      It wasn’t long ago that she and Danielle were tight, but their relationship had slowly changed over the previous year. Danielle’s attitude had become more hostile, snapping at everybody, even her little sister. When her face wasn’t buried in a book, it was hard to get three words out of her.

      Tuesday noticed she changed around the same time Marcus put her in those advanced classes and didn’t think it was a coincidence. Danielle started coming home with more homework than Tuesday thought was suitable for a girl her age, and the shit was so complicated that Tuesday couldn’t help with it. She believed the pressure was too much. She shared her theory with Marcus, but he dismissed it as a phase.

      Tuesday often wondered about Danielle’s real parents and how she came to be with Marcus. She knew her husband well enough to know he didn’t adopt her through any legal means. Tuesday had heard a rumor involving the murder of his former friend, but Marcus never confirmed this and she never asked. Her husband was better than most at keeping secrets.

      Tuesday spent a half hour in the shower waiting for Marcus to join her but he never did. She left the master bathroom attached to their room expecting him to be on the bed waiting for her. When he wasn’t, Tuesday figured he was still downstairs pretending to read while dealing with whatever was on his mind.

      She started to put on something sexy for him then decided he didn’t deserve it. She shed her bathrobe, and after taking a minute to lotion up, slipped into an oversized Detroit Tigers T-shirt.

      If he was going to preoccupy himself with a book, Tuesday decided to do the same. A few months back, Marcus had gifted her a copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu. It was the small abridged version with only thirteen short chapters, but Tuesday hadn’t been able to get past the second. Each time she tried to attack it her attention wandered. It wasn’t that Tuesday couldn’t read, she just didn’t enjoy it that much.

      The paperback was on her nightstand where it sat untouched for three weeks. She picked it up and stretched across the bed to get comfortable. Tuesday couldn’t understand why Marcus thought this was so great that she needed to read it. Some Chinese man who had been dead for thousands of years discussing war strategy with horses and chariots when niggas had AK’s now. It didn’t seem relevant. She forced herself to concentrate on the page, on the words no matter how badly her mind wanted to jump to other things.

      Tuesday only made it through six pages before she traded the book for the TV remote. She switched on their monstrous ninety-two inch Samsung, more interested in the wars fought between the ladies on the Real Housewives of Atlanta.

      Marcus had obviously been watching CNN, and Tuesday was about to change the channel when a news report caught her attention. The caption read: “One of the Largest Drug Busts in History,” and curiosity made Tuesday turn up the volume.

      Thanks to a joint task force between Mexican