Skull Island

by T. Styles

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The air had been sucked from the mansion.

  All hope was officially lost.

  Minnie, Joey and Spacey sat on the living room sofa as Bet stood before them, a complete wreck. Living without Banks was not something the Wales family was prepared to do and yet it looked as if they would have no choice. The man with the plan. The protector of the family.

  Their rock.

  Dead.

  “So, this is, this is all your fault?” Minnie said in a quiet hate filled whisper. Her gaze on the floor. Eyes bloodshot red. It seemed like forever but eventually her focus rested on her mother. “That’s what you’re telling us?”

  “I…I didn’t…” Bet tried to formulate the words but nothing worthy of speaking exited her lips. She had been caught fucking his best friend and as a result Banks was shot. While trying to save her life at that. “I didn’t know I…I didn’t know this would happen.”

  “You took the one person, the one person who, whose only crime was…was…keeping us safe!” Minnie yelled leaping up. “How could you? How could you do this to all of us? We can’t even get off this island without him. He was our everything and…and…now…”

  “I didn’t know she would…she would try to kill me,” Bet cried. “I…I was…out of my mind and…”

  “Stop making fucking excuses!” Minnie tore into her like the end of a recently sharpened blade to soft flesh. “Nothing you say will matter ever again!”

  Bet walked over to Minnie, in an attempt to soothe her with touch. For her efforts she was shoved roughly away. Bet grabbed her once more and now with her mother upon her, she used the moment to hit her blow after blow in the arms, chest and face. It took Spacey and Joey to hold her back.

  But Minnie shook them off as she ran toward the door. Before leaving she stopped and slowly turned around. As if she realized something. Something of great importance. “I’m…I’m not running anymore,” she said, wiping tears roughly from her eyes. “You leave.” Her gaze was firmly on Bet as she crossed arms over her chest.

  Bet was stunned, feet planted in the marble floor like nails to wood.

  “Minnie, don’t come down on ma like this,” Spacey said. “It’s not her—”

  “GET OUT!” Minnie yelled at her mother. “I don’t want to see your face! Ever!”

  ****

  He was in his room…alone.

  Mason used the moonlight from an open window to paint his newest creation. Dried tearstains rusted his cheeks as he dipped his brush into a bucket of Banks’ blood.

  Although Mason didn’t know it, due to being engrossed in his work, Whoyawanmetabe stood in the doorway as he watched the painting take shape. This was the moment Whoyawanmetabe had been waiting on. A painting not only derived out of pain but from the blood of his most precious friend.

  Banks Wales.

  Which meant in the underground world its worth would be far more than the canvas it was painted on.

  With finally getting what he desired, he walked quietly out the door, closing it behind himself.

  ****

  When Whoyawanmetabe walked toward Banks’ room, he opened the door slightly when he heard prayer in Latin. Rosa, Tobias and Roxana stood around Banks’ grayed out body lying on the bed. There was so much blood it colored the cream sheets burgundy.

  “How is everything?” Whoyawanmetabe whispered trying to get a good view.

  Rosa glared. “We have given you everything you’ve asked. Please, leave us be while we prepare his body. Don’t disrespect his spirit.” She warned. “It wouldn’t be good.”

  Whoyawanmetabe wasn’t scared of a lot, but being hunted by the dead was one of them. And so he nodded and walked out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  All the curtains were drawn but the light of the Himalayan orange salt lamps lit the space.

  Whoyawanmetabe sat at a desk in his room his back faced the door. When Bet walked inside he smiled before even seeing her because he knew she was there. She had a standing invitation since he arrived to the island but she never saw fit to use it until now.

  Curious, he turned around in the chair. “So now that he’s gone you know who I am?” He rose to his feet. “All of a sudden you remember our past? All of a sudden you remember me?”

  “The guards let me in.” Her eyes were as red as merlot and she was wearing blue jeans and a white shirt that was ripped in many places.

  He shrugged. “That’s because I told them to always allow you entry.”

  “What have you done?” Her words slithered out in a heavy hush. “You…you caused him to be killed.”

  He frowned. “You come at me with this?” He pointed at himself. “After you left me for him? After I put you through school to be a realtor? After you promised to marry me and destroyed my world in one breath? You didn’t even say goodbye when you left our home. That we purchased…together.”

  “I didn’t leave you I—”

  “You knew I was a fan of Mason’s work! And like you do everything else in life, you obsessed on him first.”

  “I didn’t obsess.” She crossed her arms.

  “You fucking followed him, Bethany. You followed Mason and was going to make your move on him. But then you saw Banks when he was home one day from Texas, didn’t you? And you set your sights on him instead. Even introduced yourself to his father so you’d be able to sell both of them their houses. I know your full story so stop the lies.”

  She looked down. “I never promised to marry you!” Was all she could utter upon hearing the truth be rattled like broken glass. “And now none of it matters because Banks is dead.”

  “You broke my heart to be with a woman.” He shook his head. “What kind of abomination is that?” He walked closer. “And then what happens? The moment he abandons you on this fucking island and you thought he wasn’t coming back to save you, who was the first person you called? Me!”

  “What about you? What about making your violent services available to Linden just so you could get a connection with Banks and Mason? Just so you could get back at me.”

  “I did whatever I had to do and now I have that and so much more.”

  Her chin rose and her chest seemed to widen. “I’m not going to be with you, Delray. Even…even with Banks dead I’m not…not going to be with you.”

  He glared slowly. “I don’t want you anymore.” He chuckled. “You’re tainted anyway. So it was never about that with me.” He looked at her feet as if he was preparing to spit on them.

  She readjusted her stance, crossing her arms at her chest. “Then what do you want?”

  “That niggas blood,” he shrugged. “On my painting. And I’ll have that and so much more.” A smile took up his entire face.

  “So filming us was all a ruse?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I hate you so much.” She whispered.

  “And I loved you, until you broke a promise and used me to build a career. I mean, don’t you understand what kind of man I am? Don’t you realize how far I would go to ruin the life you built? Even if it took me twenty years. You did this, not me.” He walked up to her and caressed the side of her face. His hand cool upon touch. “Think about that as your children hate you for the rest of your life. I know I will.”

  ****

  The table was set but not for dinner.

  Not this time.

  The dining room was dark when Whoyawanmetabe strutted inside, without his men. With the exception of a lit candelabra on the table next to where Mason sat, there was limited glow. But it was the object behind Mason that drew Whoyawanmetabe’s attention and caused his mouth to water.

  It was covered in a sheet.

  As if waiting on him like the body of a beautiful naked woman.

  Slowly Whoyawanmetabe moved toward it, as smooth as if he were gliding on rollerblades. He savored every moment, before even seeing the work of art.

  Mason took a deep breath and looked down at his clutched hands. “Why the came
ras?”

  “Excuse me.”

  He focused on him. “This is what you always wanted, for me to kill my best friend and use his blood to paint so why…why the cameras?”

  Whoyawanmetabe smiled. “You know, it’s funny. When people know they are being filmed, at first, they are robotic, unnatural. But with some time, they come to look at the cameras as a priest of sorts. A source for them to display their darkest confessions. I knew what I wanted and I knew what things to put in place to get me there. I needed extreme chaos. I needed you and Banks to despise each other. In one location. So the cameras were a diversion.”

  “But why film everybody? Why not just me and Banks?”

  “Because Banks was smart. He would’ve caught on.”

  Mason looked down and shook his head slowly. “You know, when I first found out you had a connection with me in some way, I was cocky. True. Figuring…figuring I could…could give you what I thought you wanted and…and you would leave.” His rage was quiet and contained, unlike the recent past. “If only I could see what you wanted all along, for me to kill my best friend and paint with his blood. My son would still be alive.”

  “Your friend too.” He smiled. “But hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

  “It is.”

  “So how is it?” Whoyawanmetabe nodded at the covered picture, disregarding his feelings all together. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks and a meal of steak and eggs sat across from him with a succulent aroma. “Is it a work of art?”

  Mason looked back at the sheet. “You were right.” He paused. “It is my best.”

  Whoyawanmetabe rubbed his hands together. “Well let me see! Don’t make me wait!”

  Mason rose and yanked the sheet off revealing the backs of two young friends sitting on the steps in Baltimore city. It was the place Mason and Banks grew up as children. Mason had a low cut and Blakeslee had pigtails running down her back.

  It told a sad story.

  Of happy times gone by.

  Whoyawanmetabe loved it. The richness of the blood colors, which was used to highlight the undertones of Mason’s brown skin and the reds of Banks’ shirt, were vivid and breathtaking.

  Slowly Whoyawanmetabe walked toward the painting, being sure to take in each aspect from afar before moving closer.

  Slowly.

  Now he could see more details.

  The ball on the step next to them. The car flying by and how their heads were tilted slightly so that they were facing each other.

  It was utter perfection.

  He could feel their bond.

  Whoyawanmetabe had always been a sucker for the rare, so when he learned about the talented artist from Baltimore who painted his portraits with human blood over twenty years ago, he followed his career.

  Had even been to every exhibit.

  Of course he was a fan.

  He already owned five of his paintings but this one took on new meaning. It was art, created with the blood from the man who stole the love of his early life.

  Running his fingers over top of the painting, he smiled as he felt each hardened surface. His fingertips experienced light orgasms retracing Mason’s strokes as if they created it together.

  The expressions of the young children embedded in the art who had no idea that their lives were going to change called to his soul. He loved the masterpiece so much he ran his nose across the finishing and inhaled deeply.

  Pulling back Whoyawanmetabe smiled until…

  Suddenly his eyes flapped open and he grabbed his throat. He clawed at his neck with both hands, drawing bloodlines in the process. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t catch air although he desperately tried.

  Mason rose slowly when he dropped to the marble floor.

  He had waited for this moment and suddenly it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

  “You have a habit of touching and inhaling things you want to hurt or possess,” Mason said. “I noticed that about you early on. With the way you touched Emetine and even me and Banks on the beach. The painting is rich with poison. And your habit is now the reason you’ll die. You can thank Rosa for that part. She’s good.”

  Whoyawanmetabe’s skin began to turn a baby blue.

  “But you were right about me,” Mason continued. “I moved without thinking. Been that way all my life. I should’ve been patient.” He said through tightened teeth. “If only I had been patient, my son…my son…” he choked back tears as Rosa, Ives and Tobias walked inside.

  Seeing her work, Rosa took a deep breath as she stared down at Whoyawanmetabe pulling his last breath.

  “The cameramen ate our food again last night.” She shook her head. “Just as we thought. I guess Banks’ plan worked after all. The poison got to them too. He knew what to do.”

  Mason nodded and looked over at her. “Yeah.” He dragged a hand down his face. “He always does.”

  ****

  It was a warm spring day as Blakeslee tossed a ball back and forth with Mason in front of their building. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Or the cool brisk air. It’s been said that the winter brings along a change in those who are willing to accept their fate.

  But with all certainty, a lot had changed since the last time Blakeslee had spoken to Nikki, starting with the fact that she no longer required her attention. But Blakeslee’s physical appearance was also altered. She had traded her two long French braids, for a short cropped curly hairstyle that made her more masculine.

  Even the way she walked was different. Instead of trying to be like Mason, she adapted an air of confidence and as a result she developed a natural gait that worked for her physique.

  A bop that was all her own.

  In the end, she was finally falling into who she really was.

  Banks Wales.

  Sure she wanted to be with Nikki. But over the weeks it hurt less. Primarily because since she lost her, she didn’t have to go through the pain of losing her again.

  Blakeslee was moving on with life.

  Mason was just about to order some pizza, her favorite, when he remembered something he overheard at school. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Nikki broke up with Hector.”

  Blakeslee shrugged allowing the info to roll off her shoulders like beaded water drops. “I don’t go to that school no more. So you don’t have to keep me posted.”

  Mason smiled for more than one reason. He had plans to transfer to her new school too but hadn’t told her yet. “So you gonna act like you don’t care?”

  “I don’t.” She widened her grip for the ball.

  Mason tossed it at her. “Well if you want, I thought of another plan to get her back. We could—”

  “Nah, I’m done playing games, Mason. I’m done chasing her too.” She tossed the ball back. “Just…just let it go. I have.”

  Mason smiled but quickly let his expression disappear like fine mist to cool air. The last thing he wanted was to appear too happy about her not being with Nikki. “So that mean, you don’t, don’t wanna be with her no more? You—”

  “It means if she don’t want me, I gotta be good with it. I mean, I, I don’t know how to be nothing more than what I am. So, so, like I said I’m done chasing her. Especially if she think I’m not good enough.”

  Suddenly, Mason looked past her and his eyes widened. Nikki was coming home.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Blakeslee asked, seeing the expression change on his face.

  “Glad you feel that way because there she go right there.” He pointed over her shoulder and she followed his gaze.

  At that moment, Nikki was walking toward their building, rubbing her coat covered arms briskly.

  The moment she laid eyes on her, Blakeslee could tell she’d been crying. Instead of going inside their building she stopped in front of her. “Blakeslee…” She sniffled. “Can I…can I talk to you for a second?”

  “Banks.” She stuffed her hands into her pocket. “I go by Banks Wales now. My pops and moms been gave me the name but…I’m…I’m using it now.” She
looked back at Mason. “I want you to start calling me that too.”

  Mason nodded and walked away with the ball, leaving them alone.

  Nikki took a deep breath and wiped the tears away. “I heard you…I heard you changed schools.”

  Banks shrugged. What business was it of hers?

  “I broke up with Hector.”

  Banks nodded.

  Nikki stepped closer feeling as if she was sinking in quicksand and losing Banks forever. Why wasn’t she excited upon hearing the news? “I’m not getting back with him no more though.” She grabbed one of her hands. “We done.”

  Silence.

  “Blakes…I mean, Banks, do you like me still?”

  “What difference do it make?” She walked away to be free from her pretty face and leaned against the fence. But Nikki followed, feeling her world slip away. “Even if…even if you are broken up with him, what that got to do with me?”

  Her eyes widened. “I was saying it because—”

  “I’m done trying to, trying to make a person like me.” She stood up straight. “I mean, I don’t know why I am the way I am, but this is it, Nikki. I’m not changing.” She threw her hands up in the air. “If you can’t get with that, step the fuck out my life.”

  Nikki was stunned into submission. “I don’t mind you being like…like you are but—”

  “It ain’t nothing to mind though. This me. Period. If you like me, you gotta like me like this. What’s it gonna be? ‘Cause either way I’m good over here. Not chasing you no more. Not letting you hurt my feelings no more either.”

  Nikki looked around, at the passing cars, at the building’s door and finally into Banks’ eyes. “I like you, Banks. Always have. And if you give me another chance I’m not fucking up this time. For nobody.”

  Banks moved closer. “If you gonna be with me, you gotta tell him.” Her confidence was on the highest level.

  “Hector?”

  “Yeah, and to his face. I wanna see it.”

  “It’s done.”

  Later that day she planned to do just that however Hector and his father were killed in a car accident. Nikki was broken up due to how his death happened but Banks allowed her the time she needed to grieve. Without jealousy. Besides, there was no need. She understood they were a couple at one point so Banks’ only objective was to be there for her girlfriend.