“But I’m not in debt to anyone. I’m sure there has been some mix-up. Maybe they pulled the wrong file.” That had to be it. Maybe someone else in the city had her name and their credit files had gotten mixed up. “You have to give me some time to check into this. I need to find out why my credit file has the wrong information.”

  “I’m sorry, Lisa, but we have to move on.”

  “No!” She stood up, held out her hand as if Sam could see her. “I quit my job already. You can’t rescind your offer over a mistake. It has to be a mistake. The only credit I have are the two credit cards in my billfold.”

  “I wish there was something I could do, Lisa. You came highly recommended by Elsie Richardson, but I can’t hire you. I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait!”

  He hung up, leaving Lisa standing behind her desk, scratching her head. Everything had been going in the right direction. How could it end like this?

  Chapter 14

  Dana had spent the past week scouting buildings and working on her business plan. She and Jeff met at a deli so he could look over her work.

  “I think I have an investor for you,” Jeff said and then took a bite of his sandwich.

  Dana’s eyes lit up. “Are you for real? Don’t play with me, Jeff.”

  “I’m not playing with you. My investor has loads of money. The thing is, his grandmother used to be a hairdresser. He has fond memories of her, so he wants to add a hair-care business to his portfolio.”

  “Wow! Thank you, Granny.” Dana pumped her arm in the air.

  Jeff held up a hand. “One step at a time. He’ll need to review your business plan first, so let’s make sure you have everything together.” Jeff spent a few minutes glancing over the plan. He flipped a few pages, then lifted his head. “Where’s the information about the building?”

  Dana scratched the tip of her nose. “Oh, I didn’t know you needed location info.”

  Jeff laid the business plan back on the table. He rubbed his chin, looking pensively at her. “Do you know the number one reason most Black-owned businesses fail?”

  “Not enough customers,” she guessed.

  He shook his head. “Lack of funding. So it’s not enough to get a few thousand from an investor. You have to receive an amount substantial enough to put you in position to be successful. Therefore . . .”

  “We have to include the cost of leasing the building in the business plan.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dana was so impressed with Jeff’s business savvy and the way he seemed to want her to win, she opened a door and let him peek into her world. “The building I looked at is in Bed-Stuy, not too far from where I grew up.”

  “I didn’t know you grew up in Bed-Stuy. I thought you were a Flatbush kid like me.”

  “Nah.” She told him, “When I was a kid, I lived on Halsey Street and then on Lewis Avenue when we had to move because my mom couldn’t pay the rent.”

  “Tough break.”

  “Yeah, it was.” Dana cleared her throat and sat up straight. “I’ll get the numbers from the building owner and update the business plan.”

  * * *

  True to his word, Jeff lined up a lender for Dana’s small business. She wasn’t able to qualify with a traditional bank, but Jeff’s investor came through and was willing to put two million dollars behind the building of her enterprise. Dana couldn’t believe this was happening to someone like her and shared as much with Jeff when the two next got together.

  “Why not you?” Jeff said as the two clinked glasses and toasted in celebration of her newfound wealth.

  She had a million reasons why this shouldn’t, wouldn’t, and couldn’t happen for her, but she wanted to share none of them. Dana took a sip of her apple cider—alcohol had never been her thing. She’d tried it once but didn’t like the way it made her feel. And after her childhood, Dana was against anything that altered her perception.

  As she put the glass on the table, a giggle bubbled up, and she released all the joy she was feeling. “I absolutely can’t believe I am a millionaire.”

  “Well, not yet,” Jeff told her. “All of this money will need to go toward building your business. Your investor expects to be paid back on a faster track than a normal lender, so you need to get busy producing your Hair Fabulous products.”

  “Oh, I’m already there. I’ve talked with a manufacturer who will be able to put me on their schedule, and I’m hiring a marketing professional so we can put Hair Fabulous products into as many stores as possible. I’ll be able to pay this loan back. I’m confident I can do it.”

  Jeff put his glass down and stared at Dana from across the table as if she were a puzzle he was trying to put together.

  “What?”

  Jeff shook his head. “Nothing. You seem different from the first day we met.”

  Dana pursed her lips; she leaned back in her seat. “I’m still Dana from the block. Having this money doesn’t change who I am. Trust me on that.”

  “I hope you do stay the same. But I’m not talking about your personality.” He explained further. “When we first met, you were guarded, as if you didn’t know whether you could trust me. I thought it was the Brooklyn in you, but you’ve relaxed around me lately.”

  Nodding, she admitted, “You’ve put me at ease. I see that you’re a man of your word.”

  Jeff smiled, then put a hand over his face. “Look at me, blushing after a woman said something nice about me.”

  “You’re not blushing. Stop lying.” Dana watched as Jeff lowered his hand. He first seemed to be in a joking mood, but his facial features took on a more serious note as the smile left.

  He cleared his throat, sat up a bit straighter in his seat. “In all seriousness, when we first met, I did want to take you out to dinner, but you were set on paying for yourself. Now I can’t ask you out, and I’m a bit bummed.”

  She hadn’t been on a date in years, too busy trying to recover from her first business venture going belly-up. But Jeff was real easy on the eyes, with his almond skin tone and those light brown eyes, not to mention the goatee he sported was so sexy she had to avert her eyes during a few of their meetings.

  “Why can’t you ask me out?” she inquired with a raised brow.

  “Isn’t it obvious? You’re out of my league now.” Sweat beads formed on Jeff’s upper lip. He wiped them away. “I don’t want you thinking I’m after you for money.”

  Dana laughed. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have a dime to expand my business. I would be in my apartment with all my ingredients spread out over the kitchen, trying to fill my orders.”

  “Now you can hand all those ingredients over to a manufacturer and get a distributor to deliver your products to stores like Sally Beauty Supply and Walmart.”

  “Well, I no longer have to mix all my ingredients in my kitchen, sooo”—Dana dragged the word out as she looked into Jeff’s eyes—“Guess I have some time on my hands. I’m thinking about going out to dinner.”

  “You should take some time to enjoy your success.”

  Tapping her fingers on the table, she asked, “Do you have any suggestions for where a single girl might get a good meal?”

  Jeff took a moment to think. “I have the perfect restaurant, but you will need a reservation. And they have a long waiting list. But I know a guy . . . I might be able to get you in by next week.”

  “Well, if the restaurant is a snazzy one, I’m going to need a date.” Dana bit down on her bottom lip. “Wonder if I can find a man comfortable with dating a woman with two million dollars in her pocket.”

  Jeff took the bait. He waved a hand. “Hold on. If I’m getting the reservation, then I’m taking you out. I’ll call you with the day and time of our meal, okay?”

  Dana shrugged. “If you’re sure you want to be seen out with me. I think I can tolerate you for an evening.”

  “Oh, you got jokes, huh?” Pointing in her direction, he said, “I got you. Well, let me say this: I’m a gentleman, so I guarantee you will enjoy a night on the town with me.”

  * * *

  Lisa and John sat at the kitchen table reviewing the Experian, TransUnion, and Equifax credit reports. All three reports indicated she had defaulted on a lease agreement and several credit cards. “I have never had a Chase credit card or a Discover card.”

  “The only credit cards I am aware of are the two we have together,” John said while continuing to study the credit report.

  Lisa jabbed a finger at the report. “Right there it shows the credit cards we have together, and they are current . . . It’s the only correct thing on this report.”

  “This is bananas.” John threw up his hands. “Unless you’re living some double life I don’t know about, then there is no way you racked up thirty thousand in credit card bills and defaulted on a lease agreement.”

  Lisa pointed toward one of the line entries. “There’s a telephone number for Chase Bank. I’m calling them right now.” She picked up the receiver and started dialing the 800 number, hit several prompts, and then tapped her foot as she waited for someone to answer the phone.

  Right after the customer service rep greeted her, Lisa went in on her. “Hi. My name is Lisa Coleman.” Remembering the credit card was in her maiden name, she said, “Sorry, I’m Lisa Whitaker, and I need to speak with someone about a credit card that is in my name, but I didn’t apply for.”

  “Can you give me the credit card number?” the customer service rep asked.

  Lisa glanced back at the credit report. “I don’t have the full number, only the last four digits. Can’t you look it up with my name and the four digits on the credit report?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Can you provide me with your information?”

  Lisa gave the rep all the information she saw on the report. She could hear the rep clicking a few keys, then she said, “I have your loan pulled up. Before we go any further, I must tell you this is an attempt to collect a debt and any information received—”

  “This is not my debt,” Lisa tried to explain.

  “Your name is Lisa Whitaker, correct?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then you currently owe us fourteen thousand two hundred sixty-seven dollars. How do you plan to pay? We haven’t received a payment in the past two years.”

  Kennedy walked into the room with her history book and notebook. “Mom, are you ready to help me with my homework?”

  Lisa put her hand over the phone. “Ask your father to help. I’m taking care of something.” Then she spoke back into the phone. “I don’t think you understand what I’m telling you. I am Lisa Whitaker, but I do not have your credit card, nor did I apply for it or ever use it.”

  “Are you claiming to be a victim of identity theft, ma’am?”

  The way the representative said those words, it sounded like people called them all the time, trying to get out of paying a bill by saying someone else made the charges they were being billed for. And maybe people did stuff like that on the regular, but Lisa wasn’t like one of them. “Yes, ma’am, I am a victim of identity theft. I’m hoping you can help me sort some of this out.”

  After a few minutes on the phone, she was finally able to get the address where the bills were being mailed. “I don’t live there and am hardly ever in Flatbush,” Lisa told her.

  “Can you provide me with your address?” the rep asked.

  Lisa gave her address on Halsey Street, then saw John waving to her. He was shaking his head as if she’d done something wrong. She put her hand over the phone again while looking in John’s direction. “What did I do?”

  “Don’t give them any more information.”

  “We have to get to the bottom of this.” She understood her husband’s concern, but this credit issue had cost her a dream job and the ability to purchase the family home from her father. She needed someone to do something.

  When she hung up with Chase Bank, she gave John the address the bank had been sending monthly statements to. “I think we should borrow Dad’s car and drive over there.”

  “But, Mommy, I need to get my homework done for my history class,” Kennedy whined.

  John looked at the address. “This is in Flatbush.” John flipped a few pages on the credit file, then jabbed a finger at the report. “The address for the rental property is listed right here. It’s in Flatbush too.”

  “I know.” Lisa rubbed her forehead. “I have been in Flatbush all of two times in my entire life.”

  Kennedy lifted her book in the air. “Will somebody please help me?”

  “Sit down next to me, Kennedy. Let me see if I can help,” John told her.

  Lisa normally helped Kennedy with her homework. But not today, not when someone in Flatbush had ruined her well-made plans. Now she needed a plan for what they would do once they found this person.

  Chapter 15

  Lisa sat in the passenger-side seat as John drove them over to where the building she supposedly rented was located. They parked in front of a small building. It looked to be no more than about five hundred square feet. There was no signage on the building. A few of the windows had boards on them.

  John got out of the car. Lisa opened her door and got out as well. They walked up to the building, peeked inside the one window that wasn’t boarded up.

  “It’s empty.” Lisa didn’t know what she expected to see, but she had hoped something would at least give them a clue about the business operating at this location.

  “We should have expected this,” John told her. “Based on the credit report, the person stopped paying the rent a little over two years ago. The owner probably hasn’t been able to rent it out since.”

  Lisa looked around, saw parents holding their children’s hands as they walked down the street. Other kids were hanging out. She turned to John and said, “If I was going to rent a building like this, I would open a community center for after-school programs to benefit kids in this area.”

  John looked frustrated. “We need to find out who owns this building. I don’t understand why they haven’t rented it out again.”

  “They have me on the hook for it, that’s why.” Steam formed in Lisa’s nostrils as she blew out hot air.

  A few men and women were passing by. They went along their way, not even waving a greeting to anyone. Lisa turned to a woman who was pulling a cart full of groceries. She was walking as fast as she could while pulling it. Lisa went over to her. “Excuse me, ma’am. Do you live around here?”

  The woman looked as if Lisa had asked her to donate a kidney and kept walking. Lisa rushed after her. “I’m not trying to get in your business.” She pointed to the building she and John had been standing in front of. “Do you know anything about this building?”

  The woman gave Lisa the hand and kept walking.

  Lisa was about to ask one more question, but John grabbed her arm and moved her back toward the car.

  Lisa pointed to a man who walked past them. “Sir, sir, can I ask you a question?”

  The man shook his head, made a motion with his arm as if he was getting in a running stance. “I’m late. Can’t stop to talk.”

  “Get in the car, Lisa.” John walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door.

  “But . . . but . . .” Lisa waved a hand toward the no-name building.

  “We can’t stand out here accosting people on the street. We have the address where the credit card statements were sent to. Let’s go see where this person lives.”

  Lisa nodded. “Oh, oh yeah, I like the way you think.” She got back into the car, and they drove over to 315 Flatbush Avenue. Lisa squirmed in her seat at the excitement of tracking down the person who stole her identity. Her fist clenched and unclenched. She was mad enough to kick some butt today.

  This person’s senseless actions tore down everything Lisa had spent years building. She didn’t even have a job with the Department of Social Services anymore. After they threw her the going-away party, Lisa was too embarrassed to admit her job offer had been rescinded, so she packed her office up and left her job, letting the new manager take over as planned.

  When she was younger, Lisa had mapped out her life. She’d planned everything: college, marriage, career, and children. She always knew she wanted only one child . . . kids were expensive. And she wanted to give Kennedy every advantage in the world, as her parents had done for her.

  Lisa wanted to solve this mystery, restore her good name, and then get her life back on track. Kennedy needed to see her mother taking action rather than sitting in the house moping about how she had been done wrong.

  John pulled up to the address they had been given. Lisa’s face dropped. It was a UPS store. She turned to her husband like he could provide the answers she sought. “What . . . what is this? Why did the credit card company give us the address to the UPS Store?”

  John put a hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “Honey, I’m sorry this crappy thing happened. It’s not fair how someone can pretend to be another person and buy all this stuff and leave us holding the bag.”

  “But we shouldn’t be holding the bag. We’ve lived good and faithful lives. We attend church, we’re raising our child to be a responsible adult. We pay our bills.” She beat a fist against the car door. “This shouldn’t be happening to us.”

  Rolling her eyes heavenward, Lisa opened the car door as an idea struck. “I bet the UPS Store has the real address on this fake Lisa.”

  “Good thinking.” John opened his door, and they walked into the store.

  Lisa stood in line while the three people ahead of her were served. When it was her turn at the counter, she said, “Can I speak with the manager or the store owner, please?”

  “Sure thing,” the clerk said. “He’s in the back. Let me get him for you.”

  Lisa turned to John as the clerk walked to the back. “Now we’re going to get some answers.”

  John crossed his fingers.

  A tall man with dreadlocks came from the back. He had on a UPS uniform and a name badge that read Gary. He walked over to Lisa and said, “I was told you’re looking for the manager.”