by Kenya Wright
“What the hell would I get from doing that?”
“I don’t know.”
Had Emily been here I would’ve asked her. She’d always been good with shit like that, dissecting things before others.
“We’re in this together, Max.” He said it in that smooth voice he liked to use on Kennedy, when he was lying.
“Who do you think you’re bullshitting?” I gripped the phone harder. “If we were in this together, then I would know what you know.”
“You do.”
“Fuck you, Darryl.”
“Eh, whatever. Just get rid of the hooker. That’s all I’m saying.”
“She’s long gone.”
“She better be. That’s the last loose end.”
I stared at the phone.
The last loose end?
Darryl used to play in the chess club back when shit had been normal. As a kid, I thought it was the most boring thing ever. I always had more fun playing with Emily. She loved to play hide and seek, always finding the best places to disappear. The few times I found her, I would feel like the King of the World.
But now I wished I’d learned more about chess because now I felt like I was on someone’s game board, being played for a fool.
Darryl continued, “I got some money for you, Max.”
“What money?”
“Chill money. Relax money. Funds to get your ass out of the city.”
“I can’t leave. Emily might not be dead. She could just be injured or—”
“She’s dead, man. I don’t want to believe it, but what can we do?”
“Be hopeful.”
“Fuck hopeful. Get the fuck out of this city.”
Why? What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?
“There were Jamaicans where the bomb hit,” I said.
“Yeah, I heard. I doubt it’s anything.”
Which means it’s everything. Darryl has a connection with the Shower Posse. Now it’s nothing?
“Max?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to want to get out of this city by the end of tonight. Don’t be thinking about any revenge or what happened and who did this or that. Get out of here.”
“That doesn’t sound like a suggestion.”
“I’m sorry, Max, but it’s not. Get out of here. I don’t want to lose someone else. Enough people have died today.”
This is a check mate. I just don’t know how he took my king.
“Okay, but I don’t need to meet you for any money. I’ve got my own.”
“Good. I would get out of here fast.”
I clenched my jaw, not liking his insinuating threat.
“And get rid of all that Tinder Killer shit.”
I glanced at my office wall where I’d posted the news clippings, hoping to one day explain it to Emily. “Yeah. I guess. . .I don’t need it anymore.”
“Exactly. It’s time to move on.”
Your sister just died. You don’t care? You don’t want revenge like me?
He continued, “In a way, Emily’s death worked everything out.”
I drowned in anger. “How so?”
“Now, we don’t have to clean up her shit.”
The phone hung up. No goodbye or wishes for a safe trip. Just a subtle threat to leave Emily’s murder alone and get the fuck out of New York.
He played me. He fucking played us all.
Chains clinked in my bedroom. I’d put the hooker in there. The Russians and Emily had been keeping me busy. I still wasn’t sure what I would do with the girl.
Darryl was right about one thing. No one else needs to die today.
There was a duffle bag on the coffee table full of money. I’d taken it out from my stash to give some of the money to the hooker. I grabbed two huge stacks. Several thousand in each hand.
I must get her out of here before Darryl gets someone to kill her. He’s behind this. I know it.
I headed to the door and opened it.
Her eyes widened. She tried to scream under the duct tape.
“Hey, don’t.” I kept my hands in the air, showed her the thick stacks of cash, and slowly walked to her. “I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I’m going to let you go.”
She shook but stopped trying to scream.
“You just have to get the fuck out of here. Okay?”
She quickly nodded.
“I’m going to take the duct tape off. The shit will hurt. Then, I’m going to untie you, give you some clothes and money.”
She gave me a look like she didn’t believe me.
“Listen. You walked in on some shit that you weren’t supposed to walk in on.” I peeled the tape from her mouth.
She winced, but kept her gaze on me, remaining silent.
“I needed to make sure you wouldn’t tell a certain set of guys.” I threw the duct tape down and undid the rope on her hands. “Now, those set of guys are dead, and there’s no reason to care about the missing hooker.”
Her lip quivered. “I-I wouldn’t tell anyway.”
“It’s nothing to tell now anyway.” I guided her to sit down on the bed. Her ankles were still tied. I didn’t undo them yet. She probably still wasn’t sure I would let her go and may escape.
She looked tired and hungry on top of being scared to death. I reached up and touched her cheek again, and she flinched. My jaw tightened.
She shook her head. I slid my fingers across her cheek, stealing another touch of her, unable to control myself.
No. Leave her alone. What are you doing? You’re just sad and missing her. . .
“Hold on.” I went to the right side of the room where I’d placed her pocket book. I set the stacks of cash inside. Still rummaging through, I found her wallet and pulled out her driver’s license.
“Brooklyn Thompson,” I read her name. “But, you’re from New Jersey.”
“My mom was from Brooklyn,” she whispered.
“You have to go farther than New Jersey now. West Coast would be better. Jump on a plane, train, or bus.” I gazed at her. “Do you have any kids?”
“No.”
“Good. Then, you can disappear.”
A tear left her eye. “I could.”
“You will.” I placed the driver’s license back in her bag with the money and brought it over to her, laying it on her lap.
“I’m going to untie you, and you’re going to calmly take the clothes in that chair, change, and then you can go.”
She swallowed. “I can go?”
“Yes. I swear to God. I’ll even leave the apartment.” I pointed at her. “But I won’t be far, so don’t call the cops or any shit like that. Get dressed and sneak away with your head up like it’s just a normal day. And then go right to a Greyhound.”
“Okay.”
“Get on a Greyhound to somewhere like Chicago or something. Then when you hit there, get a hotel room.”
She blinked.
“Go to the store and get some dye or scissors. You either need to shave your head or dye that shit blonde or red.”
She nodded.
“Did the brothel service have your real name?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then, you’re good.” I undid her ropes and stood. “You change your look and then go to the airport and buy a ticket. Always use cash.”
She nodded again.
“Go out west. Link up with someone who can give you a new identity.” I backed away. “You got this.”
She grabbed the purse and hugged it to her. “You’re really letting me go?”
“Yes.” I checked my watch. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’ve got some shit I have to do.”
I won’t think Emily’s dead until I see her body. Whatever is left of it.
Ready to get out of there, she pulled off the big shirt I’d put on her. And she was a beautiful, curvy woman.
My cock grew painful from the sight.
I looked away, inhaling her scent one last time and walking out.
/> The door shut behind me. I heard a click next.
Saving and walking away from pretty women. That had been the story of my life. Not that this would’ve been any type of love affair. In fact, it was kidnapping, but she was still beautiful, and I was still walking away.
And it always dealt with Emily.
You can’t be dead.
Darryl thought I would just rush out of New York and not look back. How could I just leave without dealing with the person who’d killed her? How could I just walk away when she was the reason why I got up every day?
How long had I only lived for Emily?
I left my apartment and went to her door which was right across from mine. I placed my hands against the cold wood’s surface as if I could feel her heartbeat come from it.
If Emily’s dead, then I’ll burn this place down. That’s the one thing I could do for her.
Tears left my eyes as I placed both hands flat against the door. Old memories rushed back to me. Hurtful ones. Visions that kept me up at night, filled with regret.
“Come on, kids.” My dad laughed as he took a swig of rum and left the bottle on the table. Other adults played cards on top of it—Emily’s dad, Willie, Xavier, and Kennedy’s parents who were notorious for cheating at spades.
Emily’s dad Willie pointed at them. “You two are signaling each other again!”
“We are not.” Kennedy’s mother scratched her forehead. “I just had an itch.”
“Itch my ass. You’re signaling your husband.”
Xavier laughed. “Willie act like we’re playing spades for money. Motherfucker, just tell me what you’re going for. I’m tired of them beating us.”
“Come on, kids.” Dad stumbled around, rounding all of us up. “Y’all need to get up and move around. It’s been raining all day and y’all been stuck in the house with all these adults. At least, go down to the basement and play.”
Emily’s dad Willie nodded. “Yeah. Get their butts running. Darryl and Emily will be up all night, if they don’t run.”
Everyone laughed, except Emily.
She’d been playing dolls with Xavier’s little daughters. They’d just turned six years old. Once they heard the word “basement,” they rushed down to hide.
Frowning, Emily dragged herself from the couch, kicked a doll, and fisted her hands to her sides. “I don’t want to play with. . .Mr. Grady today.”
Willie got so mad, spit flew from his lips. “Ain’t nobody asked you if you wanted to play with him. Get your ass over there and play, Em. Always hanging around adults and listening in on conversations. You’re too damn sneaky and nosy.”
“But, Kennedy is asleep.” Emily pouted. “I’m tired too. Can’t I just go back in her room and—”
“No, you’re not. You’ll just go back there and wake her up.” Willie waved her away. “Go on now. Go on. All y’all get out of here. Let the adults play.”
Darryl and I had been playing video games. Grimacing, we saved our spot and then turned it off.
Chuckling, my dad grabbed Emily’s hand. “Come on, y’all. It’s raining outside. We’ll go play hide and seek in the basement.”
“No.” She twisted her had away from my dad. “I don’t like the way you play.”
Shock covered my dad’s face. “Oh, come on, Emily. Why do you say that?”
“Emily Chambers!” Willie rose from the table. “Get your ass down there. Why do you always have to make a big deal about things. You see your brother and Max do what they’re told.”
Darryl and I had already headed to the door leading to the basement. Our parents had known each other all their lives, growing up together and then eventually moving into the same building of brownstones as adults.
Dad tried to help Emily out. “Hey, girl, how about we grab you all some ice cream first? You and I can get it from the bodega and take it down to the basement later.”
Darryl stopped in the door way. “I want chocolate.”
“Vanilla!” I yelled.
Emily just glared at us and then stared at the floor. “I don’t want any ice cream.”
“Man, get this girl before I hurt her.” Willie sat back down at the table as the other adults laughed. “I told you my wife spoiled the shit out of her.”
“She’ll be fine, Willie.” My dad patted Emily’s back and she flinched. “The poor girl is just missing her mother. That’s all.”
“I have to get my jacket.” Emily kept her hands fisted and hurried down the hall, but I saw her stop and slip into the kitchen. Her family’s kitchen had two entrances. She sneaked in and I leaned my head to the side to see what she was doing. Pulling out the silverware draw, she grabbed a steak knife.
At the time, I didn’t get what she was doing. She ran out of the kitchen, hurried to her room, and came back out with her jacket folded in front of her.
She never saw me see her with that knife, and I never told anyone that she’d grabbed it.
“Be nice to Emily.” My dad nodded his head at her as she got to his side.
Darryl and I walked down to waste time until Dad and Emily came back with the ice cream.
The basement door shut behind us, ending the last moments we’d had of a normal life.
Dad never brought the ice cream back. It was the last time I’d seen him alive.
Stop it.
Crying, I backed up from the door and wiped away my tears.
I hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. And today wouldn’t be the day where I thought about it anymore.
I had to find Emily. I couldn’t live without her. It wasn’t a sex or romantic thing, and we were more than siblings could ever be. I just knew that where Emily went, I would go. And what she wanted, I would make sure she had.
She was my soul.
I must go to where the bomb happened and see what I can find out.
Chapter 13
Emily
Luka stepped inside my office, taking up most of the doorway.
“There’s a dead woman in the back of the gallery,” Luka said. “Still warm. We might’ve just missed who killed her as we were climbing up the ladder. It’s a straight shot at the center of her forehead. No gun or nothing else was left behind.”
“Dead woman?” I shrieked. “In my gallery?”
A surge of nausea crept up my throat. I tried to rush away to see what Luka was talking about.
Kazimir grabbed my arm. “No, you shouldn’t look.”
“Don’t worry.” I moved from his grip. “I’ve seen dead bodies before.”
I hurried out of my office, made it to the back, and froze.
I knew who the dead woman was.
Fuck you, God.
Kennedy, my best friend, lay on the ground looking like a beautiful frozen doll. Blue dress and heels. Perfect makeup. Hair done up in a bun. The only indication of what had happened was the bloody hole in the center of her forehead.
All my paintings from last night lay against the wall.
“Kennedy,” I whispered. My knees buckled a little. I forced myself to stand straight, but on the inside, I wanted to curl up around her and cry. I wanted to tear my hair out over and over and over again until my head ripped into silence.
Kazimir walked up to her and kneeled, studying the hole. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Last night. This morning, she was supposed to be giving the paintings to the person who commissioned the lions.” My voice cracked at the end. I fisted my hands, holding the tears in, keeping the grief down in my stomach. “It was a secret buyer. She’d only talked to him on the phone.”
Luka shook his head and then took his time looking at every painting. “Are all of the paintings here?”
My eyes watered.
I did a quick count. “No. They’re not all here. I did twelve paintings. Kazimir took one last night. There’s only ten now. Maybe the killer took the other.”
Kazimir rose to his feet and walked over to me. “Which one is missing?”
I scann
ed each painting and then my own mind. “It was the family of lions.”
“What else?” he asked.
“Why does it matter?” I hugged myself and sighed. “Sorry. It was the family of lions tearing an antelope apart. Instead of red paint, I used gems.”
Luka put his gun away and rubbed his face with both hands. That didn’t ease my mind. Both Kazimir and him appeared like they knew exactly what was going on. Frustration pushed away my sadness, and the reality of Kennedy being gone was a tremendous crash into my world. Part of me wanted to grab my phone and call her up, letting her know about what happened.
I’ll never get to talk to her again.
I ran my fingers through my hair. This had knocked me down, and I wasn’t sure when I would get back up and fight another day.
It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.
Kazimir and Luka exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“What’s going on?” I looked at Kazimir and then Luka. “What are you both thinking?”
“I need time to think about this,” Kazimir said.
“My friend is dead, and the Shower Posse wouldn’t have done this. Many of Kennedy’s cousins are in the gang. Something else is going on, and when I find out who is behind this, I’m going to kill them.”
I was going to rip their world apart like they’d done to me. Hadn’t I seen enough death in my life? Hadn’t I lost almost every damn person I loved? I’d thought God and I had a deal. That since I’d suffered so much tragedy in my childhood, I would get a break as an adult.
In life, people said that everything happened for a reason. But what about death? What was the fucking reason for that? That fucked up Angel of Death enjoyed to take the young and beautiful. The innocent. The ones that people loved. Snatching souls. Breaking hearts. Upsetting the world with unexpected death.
My tortured mind drifted as my gaze fell on her dead body. Violent thoughts spun through my head.
Suddenly, I felt drunk. Intoxicated. Like I was losing my balance and close to blacking out from drinking too much liquor.
Kazimir watched me. “Luka, stay here and take care of her friend. We need some space.”
Anger shadowed Kazimir’s face, but I didn’t care why he was getting mad. I wanted to know who’d killed my best friend—my sister—one of the few people who loved me in this city.
