by Tiana Laveen
Promise used a tissue to clean her face, then passed out more to the audience. Gutter brought the song to an end, then moved closer to everyone, navigating around the podium, and changed to Maroon 5’s ‘Memories.’ People swayed, clapped, and hugged one another as he sang his heart out, crying yet with a big smile on his face. When the song was over, the room erupted in applause.
A final prayer ensued, as well as some announcements, and the service came to a close. People spilled out onto the streets, and she spotted several news reporters in the crowd. Security ensured that everyone got out without a hitch. In no time, Promise found herself sitting next to her lover in the back of a white limousine, with her soon-to-be sister- and brother-in-law, as well as Zach’s wife, Sandra, heading to the cemetery.
They barely spoke, everyone rolling in their own thoughts and palpable pain.
When they arrived at the graveyard, beautiful poems were recited, another solemn prayer, then they covered Jenny’s casket with pink and yellow roses. Promise assured herself that she wouldn’t fall apart again, and she managed the near-impossible task. Gutter huddled with his siblings. Zach was a mess, and it completely broke her heart. Several times, his wife, Gutter, and Zina had to help him back to his feet and give him a shoulder to cry on.
Once it was all said and done, she felt strange. Empty. There was supposed to be a dinner held at a lavish banquet hall, per Jenny’s wishes, and Promise planned to put on a cheery face, no matter how forced. There was nothing more she wanted than to snuggle up with Gutter and give him the comfort he needed, in the privacy of his own home.
“Gutter, see ya in a little bit,” said one of his friends as they all piled back into their cars to leave.
“Okay. Tell the others in case someone missed it. Dinner starts at six P.M.” Gutter waved before entering the limousine once again. As soon as they sat down, he reached for her hand and squeezed it. He was tense all over, and kept blinking away his emotions. Promise leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He offered a sad smile, as well as a nod to her unspoken words of reassurance, and then, the vehicle moved away from the graveled path.
Jenny, I only knew you for a short time, but I want to thank you for your son, and the beautiful memories. You were destined to rise. You were destined to shine. You were my friend. My mother-in-law. You are the embodiment of ‘The Next Chapter’…
…A few weeks later
“I have no idea who it is. Never seen the son of a bitch a day in my life. Obviously some weirdo!” Promise spat as she tossed the wrinkled folder down onto his office desk and stormed out. “I have to call the wedding coordinator back tonight, Zake. I wasted two hours for nothing. What a ridiculously long, insane day.”
Gutter rubbed his eyes and closed the laptop. It had been a long day for him, too, though he felt somewhat accomplished after knocking out a few items on his to-do list.
“Promise!” he called out as he got to his feet, needing a good stretch and cup of coffee.
“Yeah?” she yelled from the bedroom they now shared.
“Zina called me and wants to know if she can get a new fitting for her dress.”
“Why didn’t she call me and ask?”
“She was embarrassed.” He sighed.
“A new fitting? Why?”
He yawned. “Because she’s put on quite a bit of weight.” He laughed. “I think she looks good, and so does Dad, but she says she’s going to the gym to burn it off. She doesn’t like it.”
“Okay, yeah. No problem. We can schedule that. Hey, I’m going to jump in the shower, make a few calls, then watch that show I found on Netflix that I told you about. Are you staying up with me tonight to check it out? I’ll make popcorn… give ya a BJ with no strings attached since my Aunt Flo is still in town.” She chuckled.
“As tempting as that offer is, I can’t, baby. If I don’t finish this tribute song, my manager is going to kill me.”
“Ugggghhh,” she groaned. “All right.”
“I still want the BJ, though!”
He heard the bedroom door close.
“Hold up! I still get it, right? Some head? Sloppy top? Slurpie? Dome? Some skull?”
No response. He cursed under his breath, then marched to the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee before returning to his office. Booting the computer back up, he reached for the folder she’d left. He opened it and perused all the notes from the investigators regarding the incident at her job, including interviews, police information, most of the things he’d seen before. The stills of the perpetrator were all grainy, making him difficult to identify. No tell-tell signs of who the hell it was.
One picture though happened to be far better than the others. He kept staring at it, looking for clues. At last, something jumped out at him—something that changed everything. His blood froze. His muscles tightened, and then a burning rage set him ablaze.
“Oh my God… YOU MOTHERFUCKER! Promise! Promise!” He stormed out of his office, burst into their bedroom, and raced into the bathroom. “Promise!”
“Yes! What’s wrong? Why are you yelling?” She haphazardly rinsed out the shampoo in her hair, then turned off the shower faucet.
“I know who the fuck this is, Promise! I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!”
“Zake… Zake!” She jumped out the stall, suds rolling down her body, frantic.
Rushing back up the hall, he grabbed his coat, breaking the hanger in two.
“Zake! Where are you going?! Who is it? I didn’t recognize him. I don’t know him! Who the hell is it?!”
“My brother-in-law. Owen. I’m going to finish what I started. His ass is fucking DEAD!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A Promise You Can Keep
There’s something real fucked up about flying down the street in your police cruiser, honking, yelling and cursing to try and stop a mothafucka from dying—especially one who might deserve all of that and more. This man possibly humiliated my sister, could’ve cost her a job that she loves, and yet, here I am attempting to stop my soon-to-be brother-in-law from living the rest of his life behind bars because at the end of the day, it’s not worth it. You have to have proof in these situations, not a gut instinct or hunch. The guy had on glasses and a hoodie, and the video wasn’t even clear. Neither we nor the people Gutter hired could make a concrete match.
Let me make something perfectly clear. I love Zake. I really do. He’s a damn good person. However, make no mistake—he has a violent streak, and it’s nothing to tempt or play with. I have the same problem; game recognize game. I am aware Gutter is fully capable of beating someone unconscious, or shooting and killing them without busting a sweat, then he’ll go to bed and sleep as if nothing happened. He’s constantly in survivor mode because of his childhood, and the shit he has endured in life. I get it. There are three sides to this man. The side he shows friends and family, the one he shows fans and the media, then the one that hides in the darkness, revealing itself in times of great stress and duress. As I told his ass a while back, I’m not a rookie. I’m not stupid. I’m not gullible or easily convinced or swayed.
Gutter is a reformed White thug. There’s just no way to pretty this up. He got carjacked in a bad part of town and was already strapped. He has done illegal shit as a youth, to get money, knowing his own father was a damn firefighter with a bunch of cop friends who were arresting him. There were absolutely no fucks given. Gutter is an animal who just happens to be able to sing his ass off and tear up some instruments. He’s a musical virtuoso. He also is quite dangerous when incensed like this. Point blank. Period. Add to that, he just lost his mother, so his emotions are heightened right now. He’s not thinking straight. My sister just called me in a panic, screaming, “Stop him, Westley! Stop him!”
She didn’t have any idea where Owen and Zina’s address was. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for me to look it up, and Owen is already in the system for prior arrests related to DUIs, as well as a couple domestic violence charges with other women. All I know is
that if I don’t get to Owen before Gutter does, there will be no wedding. There will be no happy endings. No more concerts. No bomb ass penthouse. No more Grammys, music videos, and lavish affairs. There will be nothing but Gutter getting those steel bracelets that probably won’t even fit around his big ass wrists. All that man will have are three hots and a cot. He doesn’t belong in a cage. He belongs on stage. My sister would never be the same. She is madly in love with this maniac, so big brother has to do what big brother has to do…
Westley pulled up to the apartment building, relieved to see Gutter’s truck wasn’t there. Of course, with the help of his sirens, he’d been able to navigate the traffic fairly quickly, beating the beast to the punch. He looked up at the old, refurbished home that had been turned into two apartment units and noted the lights on the first floor. According to his quick inquiry, that was where Owen still resided. He killed his vehicle lights, sat back, and called Gutter once again. It went straight to voicemail.
Come on, Zake. Where are you? What are you doing?
Then, a terrible feeling crept inside him.
What if he didn’t drive over here? What if he called a ride and got dropped off? SHIT!
Westley jumped out of the police cruiser and marched up to the door, banging the shit on it, and ringing the bell.
“Police! Open up!”
After a short while, the door was opened by a pallid White guy sporting a soiled white shirt, gold chain, and unbuttoned jeans. He rubbed his eyes as if he’d been asleep.
“What… what is it?” the man stammered; the question followed by a yawn.
Westley sighed with relief.
“I need to ask, is Zake Rayden inside?”
“Gutter? Nah, man.” The guy yawned once more. “Why would he be here?”
Westley looked at the bastard, feeling an urge to headbutt the son of a bitch, tackle him to the ground, and beat his ass silly. But he held back on that desire to create havoc and crossed his arms.
“You’re in danger. For your own safety, I suggest you stay here, keep the doors locked, and don’t answer if Gutter comes by,” he warned, his jaw so tight, it hurt.
As the man looked at him in bewilderment, a black truck pulled up, screeching to a halt.
“WESTLEY. MOVE!” Gutter came up like a tornado, his keys dangling in his fingers as if he were going to use them as part of his weapons arsenal.
“I’m not moving any damn where, Gutter. Stop right there! Stand back!”
Gutter got so close that Westley had to push his weight against him. They began to struggle, and Westley wasn’t certain how long he could hold him off without resorting to more unfortunate measures.
“Get off me, Westley! Don’t you know who this is?!” He pointed at the guy standing in the doorway. “This is the motherfucker who put those pictures up at the funeral home!” Gutter’s face was bright red, his eyes dark and crazed, the veins popping out of his forehead and neck. It was like looking at a demon who’d flown straight up from the depths of Hell for one mission, and one mission only: To murder this one son of a bitch.
“Gutter, you have no proof! Only a grainy picture. This is speculation. Let me handle this! You’re going to end up in jail!”
“I have proof, gotdammit!” Gutter pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and shoved it in Westley’s face. “Ya see that necklace? It’s got a weird shaped pendant. I saw that same pendant when I came over here and beat his ass for kickboxing my sister’s face! I just spoke to Zina, and she’s the one who’d bought it for him!”
Westley stared at the paper, then at Owen. The bastard’s complexion grew ashen, and he started to try and close the door.
“Nuh uh, man. Leave that door open,” Westley demanded. He checked out the grainy photo, and that necklace was definitely visible. He looked back at Owen, and there, around his neck, was a gold necklace with a shiny star-like pendant.
Gutter lunged and Westley caught him just in time, his legs almost giving way on the small porch, the asphalt way too smooth from years of use.
“Westley, he said some weird shit the day he and I got into it, which I now remember. He said that I was lucky, in regard to Promise, because I put her on my social media and he saw it, and that she looked familiar, and he’d seen her somewhere, but didn’t recall where he had noticed her. Then he winked at me. Crazy ass! He knew exactly where’d he seen her, and he easily knew where she worked because these damn gossip vloggers have been posting what she does for a living, her job title, and so tracking down a woman named Promise who is an Assistant Director for a funeral home in Queens, isn’t so hard to do. He’s mad at me for helping my sister get the fuck away from his ass, he wanted to get revenge and do something to Promise. You fuckin’ pussy! YOU COULDN’T FACE ME LIKE A MAN, SO YOU HAD TO TARGET MY WOMAN!”
Westley put his arm out, keeping Gutter away from a guy that he, too, wished to drag out of sight and beat the brakes off of. He shook his head.
“I should let this monster have you,” he told Owen. “We should both have you. That’s my sister, man!”
“Your sister?” The guy’s eyes grew big and wild. “I didn’t do it!” he exclaimed, lying through his teeth. “I don’t know… I don’t know what you guys are talking about!” the man stuttered.
“You better get a damn good lawyer. We’re going to make sure you pay for this shit. I’m going to call another cop to take over because I can’t be involved. There are rules against this, and I’m not about to screw up the case against you, have it thrown out because I couldn’t control myself.” He started to reach for his radio when Gutter suddenly opened his jacket and Westley saw the glint of a gun.
“Zake, NO!”
He grabbed Gutter’s arm and looked into his crazed eyes.
“Zake… don’t do it! He’s not worth it, damn it! Are you going to let him steal your freedom, man?! You’ve already been involved in another situation earlier this year. You have a record. They will not give a shit that you are Gutter in that damn courtroom at this point!” But Gutter wasn’t listening. It was like talking to a wall. “Man… gotdammit!”
They struggled against one another, and his arm muscles burned as he pushed with all of his might. Gutter’s body was like a fortress. Any other motherfucker would have been tased, but this man was family.
The front door suddenly slammed. Owen had retreated, like the coward he was.
“If you love my sister like you say you do, you will not do this! How the hell do you think I knew you were here?! She’s back at your house crying and losing her mind. Don’t do this to her, man! It’ll rip her apart if you’re sent away.”
Gutter was breathing hard, but then, the guy’s muscles relaxed. The big man took a step back, swallowed, and looked away. Westley’s chest burned from the adrenaline rush, from having to fight an in-love fiend who was twice his size and out for blood. He breathlessly radioed for backup. Minutes later, he heard police cars in the distance. They’d handle this matter. There was probable cause. Owen would be charged with the crime. What else would happen after that, he did not know, but at least there wouldn’t be another damn funeral and a prison sentence…
…Several months later
“I don’t want to do this.” Promise tossed the wedding cake contract to the side of the bed, where it hung half off the edge.
Gutter was half asleep, but those words caught his attention. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Her face was aglow from the television light.
“You don’t want to do what? You don’t want to get married?” His heart began to pound.
“No. I mean, yes, I want to get married, but I just wish we could do it without all the prying eyes. It’s been so stressful.” She rubbed on her head. “My father just got released from prison, and that’s been driving me crazy because I already told you once he found out you and I were engaged, he’s been asking me for money. My mother has been depressed, angry and upset. Surprisingly, she stopped returning his calls after he cussed her out because sh
e didn’t want to give him any more money, either.”
“I told you. That argument you guys had a while back got to her, Promise. She heard you loud and clear.” He flopped back on the bed and yawned.
“She may have. I can only hope so.” She shrugged. “Westley has been dealing with Dad, who’s staying with him until the end of the month. He gave him thirty days. That’s it. They’ve been arguing. He said Daddy is often drunk and has messed up his apartment, too. Cigarette burns in the rug, stuff like that.” She shook her head. “Daddy had nowhere to go, so Westley didn’t want him to be homeless, even though this man would beat my brother until he was black and blue.”
Her voice trembled. Gutter ran his hand along her back, comforting her. “All of this planning, these cakes, these expensive centerpieces, and all of the media… it’s just too much. We’ve been through so much, Zake. The loss of Jenny, your father now has to get surgery for his other knee, the court case with Owen, your sister’s mental health as of late, and now, Rebecca has to go away to Israel for a couple of weeks, which leaves me in charge.”
“Why is that so bad? I thought you said you and Daniel squashed your beef?”
“We did, but like I told you, some people just don’t want to take orders from a Black woman. It doesn’t matter how skilled I am, how knowledgeable and friendly, they resent it, especially after I let everyone know just what I thought of them. Ever since the whole movie thing was put on blast, some people treat me differently, and I am so stressed out and tired. I have had it! People from the media, gossip vloggers, the whole nine, have been calling me non-stop, hanging around the funeral home, trying to get information about our special day. I don’t want them there! This celebration is for us, not them! I just want to be left alone, Zake. I just… I just want one thing to go right, and to be able to do my job, and love who I love in peace. Why is that so much to ask?”
