by T. Styles
Dick frowned. “You can say whatever you want to Beverly. My position in this house has been cemented.” He grabbed his penis and squeezed hard, the outline visible if anyone wanted to take a gander. “Trust me. She gonna do what I want.”
Ryan’s temples throbbed and he felt his forehead pulsating with blood. “You don’t know what you doing by getting on my bad side, dude. You have no idea of what fucking with me could mean for your physical well being.”
Dick considered him for a moment and was briefly filled with fear, until he recalled the story E.M. told him about Ryan being a punk and running away from school as a teenager. Suddenly he looked more like a kid having a tantrum than a cold-blooded killer in Dick’s humble opinion.
“I know exactly what I’m doing but what about you? You don’t think I know you got it in for her?” He stepped closer. “Because from my view it looks like you have some kind of closeted mommy lust and you taking it out on Beverly.”
Ryan cracked his knuckles and stepped to him. “Fuck you trying to say?”
“I already said it, red nigga. So what is it? You didn’t have a good mother when you were growing up? Or one that you wanted to fuck and now you wanna sleep with my woman to compensate?”
Ryan’s body trembled and he was on the verge of exploding. He wasn’t sure if it was because his words were true or because Dick, a man he despised, called him on it.
Sensing this Dick decided to back up slightly. “I’ma leave you with this message…your reservation is up, Ryan. It’s time for you to check out. Now you can either do it yourself or I’ll be more than happy to assist. You make the call.”
Dick turned to reenter the bedroom when Ryan slapped his hand over Dick’s mouth and slid a kitchen knife across his throat, slowly. His body fell on the large Komondor dog and made a slight thump on its journey to the floor.
Worried E.M. would hear the racket; Ryan looked through the crack of the bedroom door and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the shower mixed with E.M.’s humming.
She hadn’t heard a thing.
Quickly he ran inside, grabbed Dick’s clothes, wallet and keys and tossed them in a black trash bag. Focused, Ryan flung the bag on top of Dick’s body and dragged it to the back door, leaving a trail of blood on the floor.
Needing to clean up his tracks, he grabbed the kitchen towel hanging on the stove and wiped the red liquid up as best he could before stuffing that in the bag too. Of course if a forensic scientist sprayed the right chemical he would still be doing life but he’d have to settle for a full cleanup later.
After Dick’s body was at the front door, Ryan dipped outside and looked around for witnesses. When he was certain the coast was clear he ran to get his car before parking it in the back of the house, near the door.
Afterwards he dragged Dick's body outside and pulled him into the trunk, using all of the energy he could possess. The dog was at his feet, bearing witness too it all. Dead weight was heavier than he realized but with a lot of effort he was able to get his body inside, before slamming the trunk shut.
Ryan was about to go back in when he realized the left side of the dog was covered in blood. Quickly he grabbed the green hose and turned the water on an attempted to rinse him off. The animal’s mop-like hair greyed out but the blood was still present. He figured he needed some dishwashing liquid to do it properly and was preparing to retrieve it just as E.M. walked into the back door frame, covered in a plush red robe.
“Awww, how cute. You’re washing Pointer for me.”
He was startled but luckily the bloody side of the dog was in his direction and she couldn’t see evidence of his crime. “Yeah, anything for you, E.M. You know what it is.”
“Wonderful.” She turned her head left and right as she looked out the back door and into the horizon. “Where is Dick? Seen him?”
A guilty look spread across Ryan’s face before wiping away. He gripped his crouch and said, “Yep, I saw him. He’s right here.”
E.M. frowned. “Ryan, what I tell you about dick jokes?”
He grew serious. “Sorry, E.M. Just fucking around.”
“Well I don’t play like that and you know it.” She exhaled. “Seems odd that he would just leave without saying anything. I hope everything is okay.”
Ryan shrugged. “He was on the phone talking to somebody. I think I overheard him saying the person was going to pick him up and he was gonna grab his truck from your house later.”
She frowned. “Wow…I would think he would at least say goodbye.”
“Don’t look at me for an answer. You know I can’t stand the nigga.”
She nodded, her facial expression panged as if she’d just lost her best friend. “Well…don’t let Pointer back inside the house while he’s still wet.”
“You got it.” He winked.
She walked back inside, closing the door behind herself.
Ryan continued to wash the dog but after awhile it became clear that the blood was going nowhere.
He sighed and activated plan B.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Amelia
“You call six months fast?”
Amelia couldn’t get the last time she saw Ryan off her mind although he not so much as reached out to her since. But something in the way that he looked at her with hate told her that he would be by very soon to call upon her. And the fear alone had her craving crack again.
Just one hit, she told herself one night when she was lying in her room alone thinking about her life. If I do it one time I’m strong enough to pull myself off. Things are different now. I’m not like other addicts.
She was about to call a cab and make her way to a crack house when her phone rang. She looked down at it and smiled realizing that God worked in mysterious ways and sent Wyld.
She decided against buying it.
And then another kind of fear set in. If Wyld were the only person keeping her clean what would she do if he were not in her life anymore?
She just dropped the macaroni from the box into the pot when Wyld walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder. “Uh…what’s that’s supposed to be?” He frowned.
She giggled, already feeling foolishness coming on from him. “You know what it is, stop playing, boy.”
“Nah, I’m serious,” he said kissing her on the cheek. “What you making?”
“Mac and cheese, Wyld.” She raised a blue Kraft box in the air and sat it back on the counter. “And I got some baked chicken in the oven and I’m warming some spinach from the can.”
He stared at her hard. “E.M. would roll over if she saw this half ass cooking.”
“It’s good.”
“Basically you’re saying that you can’t cook. Basically that’s what you telling me right?”
“But I am cooking.”
He shook his head. “It’s a good thing you fine as hell because you wouldn't be getting these.” He dropped a set of keys on the counter and smacked her ass.
Amelia turned the eye down on the stove and picked up a key ring with a royal blue bow tied on it. Two keys were on the tiny silver hook and she grinned widely. One she recognized belonging to a car but the other she was unsure of what it opened. “What’s this for?”
“You don’t know what keys are for?” He said playfully. “You unlock stuff and—”
She giggled and hit him on the arm. “I know what keys are for but I don’t know what they go to.”
“One is for my house and the other is for a little something I picked up for you today. It’s sitting in the driveway.” He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, staring into her eyes. “I want you here with me, Amelia.” He grew serious. “For the long term. And I’m tired of you having to catch the bus or cab to get here.”
“But I…you…I…”
“You deserve this, bae. I ran your name through the streets and you know what came back?”
Amelia’s belly bubbled and she felt herself about to fart upon hearing the news. Luckily she was
able to squeeze her cheeks together before the bubble ruined the moment. “No…what?”
“Nothing. Niggas don’t even know you exist.”
She smiled. “So you didn’t trust me? That’s why you asked around?”
“It’s not about that. Like you already know I had some things happen to my wife and my life is different now. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want you with me or that I don’t trust you. If I didn’t you wouldn’t even be here.”
She smiled brightly and stared down at the key ring, which seemed to sparkle. It was at that time that she noticed the key belonged to a BMW. “And you really bought me a car? A luxury one?”
He nodded. “Let’s just say the red one with the bow on the top out front belongs to you.”
She placed her hand over her lips. “Wyld, are you serious? I…I mean…I thought you didn’t want this. I thought you said it was too fast and that you wanted to slow down.”
“Amelia, I’m feeling you. I always have been and that’s all I can say definitely right now. I’m not the kind of man who moves fast and you know this about me already. But I do know I want you here with me. And when you’re not I worry about you.” He paused. “So I broke my fast pace rule to make this one exception.”
Her eyes widened. “You call six months fast?”
“For me.” He paused. “It’s lightening speed.”
“This won’t be a mistake, Wyld.” She sat the keys on the counter and placed one warm hand on each side of his face. “I promise you.” She looked into his green eyes.
“I know it won’t be. And I don’t ask for a lot, Amelia. As a matter of fact I don’t want anything but honesty.”
She cleared her throat and turned around to stir the macaroni, which had pasted together in clumps of twos and threes because she forgot to add oil and stir. “Of course, Wyld and you have it with me. I told you before that I’m ready to be all about you.”
He grabbed her hand and turned her around, preferring eye contact. “Then why do I feel like you want to tell me something?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “What you probably see is the excitement from all of this, Wyld. I mean, I’ve never had anyone buy me a car or move me into their house. Ever. Part of me feels unworthy and the other part wants it so badly I can’t contain myself.” She paused. “But I promise I want this relationship and I’m being honest about everything.”
“Amelia.”
“Seriously, Wyld. I have nothing to say.”
He released her. “Let’s do it like this, whatever you tell me right now, in this moment I won’t hold against you. And I mean anything.” He paused. “You can even say you married and on Anna’s soul I will forgive you as long as you get a divorce. But you have to tell me now.” He pointed at the floor. “Because later on, if I walk away, this window won’t open for you again.”
A thin coat of sweat formed on her forehead. This was the moment she was waiting on and she knew she had to take it. Just the other day she prayed for the strength to tell him the truth about her past, hoping that he could help her stay clean with support and love.
Then she thought about telling him what Ryan did to her on the day he dropped her off. She was amazed at the speed God worked and was overwhelmed with happiness for the blessing.
But did she deserve him? Or the amazing consideration he was offering?
She grabbed both of his hands and looked into his eyes, preparing to release her biggest secret. “Wyld, I have nothing to say. It’s like you want me to tell you something bad just so you won’t choose me. If you want me like I want you then lets just give us a chance. And see what works.”
She fucked up by not being honest and she knew it but it was too late now.
“The last thing I’m doing is trying to trap you into saying something that would make me cut you off. Why would I do that when I care about you, Amelia? And I don’t amuse women I don’t fuck with or want in my life.”
When there was a knock at the door Wyld exited the kitchen and walked into the living room to open it. He was uneasy when he saw Spyrit’s bulging eyes as he slid inside slamming the door behind himself.
“You…you talk to E.M. yet?” Spyrit asked as he paced next to the area by the door.
“Not in a few days, why?” Wyld looked him over, as he braced himself for the worst.
“Dick ain’t been home in over a week, man. He haven’t been over E.M.’s house either. To break her heart even more she can’t find that fucking dog.”
Wyld’s eyebrows rose. “Hold up, the dog rolled out too?”
“Yeah, man,” Spyrit said sitting down, as he pulled in several deep breaths. “She said the last time she saw the dog Ryan was washing it out back.” He paused. “Since when does this nigga wash a dog? He the most selfish person alive.”
Wyld placed his hand on the side of his own head. “Yeah, Ryan washing a dog? Ain’t adding up.”
Spyrit rose and moved closer. “He’s not…he’s not good man.”
“Spyrit, I think its time that you told me everything.” When Spyrit didn’t speak Wyld moved closer. “Stop fucking around and talk to me! I’m sick of the games! What is it about this nigga that you want me to know? Tell me now.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wyld
“What Difference Does It Make How E.M. Get’s Dicked Down?”
It was midnight at Black Blood Tattoo Studio in Washington D.C. and although it was after business hours, Ryan sat in a tattoo artist’s chair getting new ink from Halo, the best artist in town.
Halo hadn’t even begun the coloring when Wyld, flanked by two men, swaggered inside and up to Ryan who was shocked, although faking it, to see him. One of Wyld’s men covered the door while Bosh hung at his right side.
Ryan looked up at them and grinned before focusing on the needle that was running over his skin. “So you finally about to let Halo ink them chicken sticks you call legs? If so you have to wait your turn, cuz. I’m up now.”
Wyld grabbed a chair from another station, sat down and rolled it next to Ryan. Next Wyld pantomimed for Halo to get lost which he did quickly and without a word.
Irritated, Ryan looked at the artist’s back before refocusing on his cousin. He scratched his scalp and took a deep breath. “What the fuck you do that for? I’m getting ink and you gonna tell the artist to leave? Don’t you know this can get infected out in the open like this?
“Everything’s a game with you.” Wyld’s nostrils flared. “Why? How come I gotta worry more about you than niggas on the street?”
“Correction, I took care of the nigga on the street who was giving you grief. Remember? If anything I’m your savior.”
Wyld slammed his fist down on Ryan’s tattoo and hit him in the throat with the side of his hand when he tried to rise. “I’m not fucking around, nigga. Why you coming unraveled lately?”
Ryan’s body locked with rage and pain but he knew Wyld well enough to know that if he did too much that moment could be his last on earth. “Can…you…at least be clearer on what you talking about?” He asked through clenched teeth before rubbing his throbbing throat.
Wyld scooted closer. “What happened to E.M.’s dude?”
Ryan looked at him and shook his head. “You come all the way out here to ask me about her nigga and you can’t even say his name.” He coughed a few times. “Having problems calling another man Dick huh? Well welcome to my world.”
“Where is he, Ryan?”
Ryan considered Wyld’s disposition a little longer. “So you been talking to Spyrit again huh? He putting stuff in your head that I may be responsible, just because I don’t like the nigga? And we had a few words?”
“I don’t know what you rapping about right now. All I know is that E.M.’s dude is gone and you the only one giving him trouble. You say you give a fuck about her but then you pull this kind of shit. In all my life I’ve never met a nigga more selfish than you.” He pointed at him. “So I’m gonna ask you again and I doubt very seriously I’ll repeat
myself. Where is he?”
“I don’t fuck with the nigga, Wyld so why would I keep tabs on him? I been saying it from the gate that the only reason I thought he was buzzing around was to get at her for the money you be dropping in her lap. Plus he treat her like a toilet, fucking her like she’s some young broad off the street. I ain’t got no love for a dude like that. She too old to be getting fucked in that manner. He could’ve killed her.”
Wyld frowned. “What difference does it make how E.M. get’s dicked down?”
“I just said it don’t make no difference.” He waved the air. “Anyway I’m done getting wrapped up in her love affairs.”
“Did you rob his house?” Wyld continued. “His niece said someone broke in and took all of his collectibles. So not only is he possibly dead but they hit his house too. This shit got your name written all over it.”
The grin melted off Ryan’s face. “I don’t know what you talking about. And to be honest I’m getting irritated. You coming down here asking me about a pussy ass nigga I don’t fuck with, like I’m really supposed to know where he is these days. What’s up with that?”
Wyld grabbed Ryan’s wrist and raised it in the air. “Then what is this?”
Ryan snatched his arm away. “Stay out my business, man.” He pointed at him. “You moving beyond your level right now and don’t know what you talking about.”
“That’s a vintage Heuer Skipper watch, Ryan. The type of shit E.M.’s dude collected and it’s worth over $5,000. You don’t have enough class to rock a piece like this.”
“So what?” Ryan shrugged.
“Nigga, you don’t own a watch worth more than fifty bucks.”
“So just because I get a little culture about myself I robbed the nigga now?” he shook his head. “The most tragic part is I feel like Spyrit filling you up with all these lies. He talk too much and need to master the art of silence for a while. I may have to help him.”
