The Double Cross

by Anna J.

  We rode back to the spot in silence, my heart getting heavier each block we got closer to the bitch. I was torn on what to do with her. She of all people knew what the deal was when it came to my man. She was there from the beginning when I met Chase. What happened to our bond? She had me questioning my loyalty and shit, and it did not sit well with me. Was it jealousy? Was it boredom? Was she lied to? Was he lied to? They definitely both lied to me, and that was the most fucked up part about the situation. Lord knows I didn’t want to put it all on him. Bitches are just as scandalous as men most times.

  I was so confused about how they even had time to link up, but I was not naive to the fact that folks made time for what they wanted. When Chase and I weren’t together, we were forever on Face Time. If we couldn’t talk, we were texting. He never missed a beat, but come to find out, the slick ones never did. They knew how to play the game all too well—until they met me. You couldn’t out-slick a slickster. I invented the game, honey. All who played, played by my rules.

  “Selah, I know this one really hit home for you. It’s hitting all of us equally as hard. Know whatever you decide, we rocking with you without a doubt. You’re not alone in this, sis. We promise.” Skye always had a way of making all the dirt we did seem not as bad.

  Vice hugged me from around the back seat, and for the first time since this entire mess took place, I really allowed myself to cry and get it out. A good, ugly cry that I wasn’t even expecting. I was too shocked when I first found out to feel anything other than rage, and for the first time in weeks, I realized that my best friend was gone. No amount of missing persons flyers or Facebook posts would bring him back, and I had to walk through the rest of my life knowing that I was the reason he was now a hashtag.

  I let Chase invade my space, something I rarely ever did. I let him into my space in more ways than I’d ever let anyone else in, and he did me the dirtiest. I would miss him, but I’d never forgive him; and if I did eventually forgive him, I’d never forget how he made me feel in this moment. The wall was back up, and it would take someone with super human strength to knock it down again. My trust level was at zero, unfortunately, and I just couldn’t deal right now.

  We pulled up to the spot after stopping quickly to get beverages and some wings for Skye’s greedy ass. Come to find out, burying a body left you a little thirsty, and for some of us, hungry. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was getting. My girls must have sensed it because Skye reached over and grabbed my hand, and Vice put her hand on my shoulder. We came to handle business, and whatever happened, it was what it was going to be.

  I felt like my bowels were about to betray me and I was going to shit all over the place if I didn’t move fast. Clenching my butt cheeks, I removed myself from the vehicle and made my way into the house where Chase and his crew used to bust traps. They had to move the operation after word got in the wind that the feds were on to them, so now his old-ass aunt just lived there.

  She had to be like eighty years old, but she didn’t take care of herself during her lifetime, so she could pass for a smooth hundred-year-old without a doubt. Years of hard liquor and drug use (weed, sometimes coke) had her barely hanging on, but she was no trouble. She mainly stayed in her room, sometimes coming down to eat because we always made sure she had what she liked. You might catch her on the stoop on a summer night catching a cool breeze, but honestly, she was no trouble. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her and respected her, so they never allowed anyone to bring harm her way and were always ready to help her in need. She turned her hearing aid off when she didn’t want to be bothered, and she never answered the phone or the door. Even though I killed her nephew, I felt like I had a duty to take care of her until she passed. I just hoped we wouldn’t walk in one day and find her dead on the toilet or some shit, but so far, we’d been good. She never heard us bring in the bodies, and when I went to check on her, she said she was turning in for the night. That just meant we were cool to handle our business without being bothered. That was three days ago.

  When we got to the basement, the bitch was wide awake, looking scared as hell with a tear-streaked face. A lump had started to form on her forehead and get dark from Skye knocking her unconscious two days in a row. She refused to stay asleep, and I couldn’t make up my mind about what I wanted to do with her. We could tell that she must have been trying to get loose, but we had her bound and gagged so tight there was no way she was getting out on her own. If I learned nothing else from the Girl Scouts, I learned how to tie a good knot.

  My anger returned instantly, but I was known for keeping my cool, even in the most stressful situations. Skye and Vice, not so much. It was a very rare occurrence that I acted on pure emotion, and putting a bullet in Chase was one of those moments. I wasn’t sure if I regretted it yet. I could tell they wanted to pounce on her, especially Skye, but because of the delicate nature of the situation, they too remained as cool as they could, letting me get this one off on my own.

  I helped them sit her up in a chair, her sobs bouncing off the damp walls and echoing throughout the space, sounding like we were in a haunted house and she was hired to do sound effects. I didn’t have an ounce of sympathy for her. She didn’t have any for me when she broke up my home. I was sure she was remorseful for what she did, or at the very least, sorry she got caught. I hadn’t given her the chance to explain herself because, in all honesty, it didn’t really matter. Once you bit the hand that feeds you, it didn’t matter what happened afterward. The hand was already bit, and there was no taking it back. There was no explaining this one away. There was no taking back what was done. No rewind button. No do over. Now was the time for payback.

  I grabbed a chair and took a seat across from her, crossing my legs at the thighs. The smell of urine, feces, and sweat was wafting around her body like stank off a dead fish. My leg bounced heavily, a true sign that I was pissed way the fuck off. I was sure my sister recognized it because she reacted the same way when she was upset. Guess we were more alike than we thought. Staring into her eyes, I saw they were identical to mine. Nose, lips, eyebrows . . . everything an identical twin sister would possess. We shared a sac together in our mother’s womb. She was my first best friend. Through thick and thin, could never bend: That was our motto from the time we could communicate. I was not sure what changed with us, but I couldn’t help but feel as we got older, she became jealous of me. I was always the fun twin, the outspoken and rebellious one. The life of the party. Everybody wanted to be squad. Even her, but she had a shoo-in because she was blood. Come to find out blood was not always thicker than friendship, and sometimes ran thinner than water.

  She had her own fair share of friends, though, all completely opposite from my friends, just like she was the exact opposite of me. More reserved. Bookworm. Grades always more important than being popular. Shy. All we had that matched were looks. Everything else belonged to two different people. It killed me to have to do this. I didn’t want to, and as much as she begged and pleaded for me to hear her out, all I could see was her riding my man’s dick and loving it. Both of them looked like they couldn’t be in a better place than where they were right in that moment. Neither one of them gave a fuck about me at the time, and now it was my turn to return those same sentiments.

  He was balls deep in the pussy, holding her body as she rode him in reverse cowgirl. Her back was arched so tight she was damn near bent perfectly backward, and the sopping sound that came from her pussy assured us all that she was wetter than an umbrella during a downpour. I was standing there in shock for at least sixty seconds before they realized I was in the room, smelling the sex in the air, making it hard for me to breathe. The sounds that came out of his mouth were like nothing I’d ever heard when he and I made love; and my dear sister . . . her eyes were shut so tight she was probably pushing her eyeballs out the back of her skull. That shit felt amazing to both of them. I could see it all over their faces.

  I briefly wondered what she was thinking as her facial expression ch
anged from being near orgasm to seeing her twin standing there watching it all. Was her pussy tighter than mine? Juicer? Felt better?

  He tried to explain himself as he pushed her off him, and all ten inches of his meaty dick glistened from her juices, no sign of a condom in sight. His seed spilled out uncontrollably from both of them, making his legs weak as he tried to stand. I was deaf to him at that point and disposed of him quickly. She wanted to scream, but the sound was stuck in her throat. One shot from the door square in the middle of his head. I had to before I changed my mind. For him, I hoped it was worth the betrayal. For her, I hoped it was worth destroying our bond.

  When it came to my dear sister, this shit was hard as fuck, and I just couldn’t make up my mind. Neither Skye nor Vice had an opinion because they learned from the past that once I made up my mind, that was what it was going to be. I stared at her—eyes that matched mine, tears that were identical to the ones I’d been shedding for weeks. I looked her dead in the eyes to see what I missed, and I wondered how I was going to tell our mother her daughter was dead.

  Selah

  365 Days Ago

  There was no doubt in my mind that I had chosen the right one this time. After going through quite a few of the bullshit men that Philly had to offer, I really wasn’t beat or easily impressed by these dudes. They were corny, for lack of a better description. Everybody label-chasing and label-crossing, but nobody really had shit of their own. Walking around mixing labels and shit, looking ridiculous. Gucci shoes. Hermes belt. True Religion jeans. Designer everything, all courtesy of the Premium Outlets and 52nd Street stands, but all that shit was stacked neatly in their momma’s house in the dresser they been using since they were three, or in a Rubbermaid tote stored behind their bedroom door. I was not about to be having quiet sex because your mom was in the next room or your little brother a bed over. I needed more to my man than a good shot, and when I met Chase, it was like a breath of fresh air.

  His swag was incredible. A quiet confidence, a very humbled soul that Philly dudes knew nothing about. He knew he had the juice but wasn’t in your face with the shit. He had a silent power that had chicks all over the city flocking to be in his presence, and out of all the bad bitches he had to pick from, he chose me, Selah Gordon from Lansdowne, a long-haired, thick, redbone (sung in my Lil’ Wayne voice) with a light splash of freckles across the bridge of my nose and hazel eyes that changed depending on what type of mood I was in. Pretty beyond comparison, most would say, but I also knew my strength, so I wasn’t cocky about it. I was a good catch, not to be thought of as average. I had the juice, too.

  He knew it, and that’s why he wanted me so bad. Oh, I brushed him off for a long time, but Mr. Chase Warren was very persistent. He could have easily had my gullible-ass twin, but he knew I was the one that had the spark. He knew my fire was brighter than anyone he’d ever met. He had to have me, so I made him hunt me down. I made him sweat. I made him beg for it. He was going to have to work for it. Victory would not come easy for him, and because of that, he would appreciate me more (or so I thought). He didn’t shy away from the chase, and his determination sealed the deal.

  The New York accent was what you first noticed about him. Well, maybe not the first thing. He was gorgeous . . . in a Rip the Runway kind of way. Had a heavy Brooklyn accent that always put me in mind of Ghost from Power, but only if Ghost was dark chocolate and a little taller. He was smooth, standing maybe six feet even, caramel, curly top, with the whitest teeth ever. He wasn’t stocky, but he wasn’t skinny. He had a nice build on him, and any woman would instantly start to undress him in her mind, fantasizing what he was capable of in private. I, for one, couldn’t wait for him to fuck me up against a wall and talk shit to me in that deep-ass voice of his, but it wouldn’t be that easy. This pussy was priceless and not just freely given to anyone. At this point, he would have to work harder than any of his predecessors because I’d been disappointed so many times before.

  My sissy and I were not your average around the way girls. Our parents taught us values, and we handled ourselves accordingly. We were not easy get-overs. That was to be understood from the very beginning.

  Rule number one: never play mind tricks with the weak. Yeah, it was every man’s fantasy to bed twins, but we didn’t get down like that. Never did. Never would. Our shit was separate, and that was considered incest as far as I was concerned. Sisters should not be licking on each other. We spent most of our teenage life trying to prove how different we were because although we looked alike, we were not the same person by any means. In our younger years, we did the switch-a-roo sometimes because even standing next to each other, unless you really knew us or were our parents, it was hard to tell us apart. We were truly identical. It was even spooky to us sometimes.

  We hung with different crowds, but occasionally I could talk my favorite girl into rolling with us to a hot party if she wasn’t eyebrow deep in textbooks. She knew how to turn up with the best of us, but her focus was well beyond the party scene, and I had to commend her for that. At the now tender age of twenty-three, I was all the way over the college life. I got my associate’s degree right quick, landed a gig for the City of Philadelphia and kept that shit, taking a class here and there toward my bachelor’s degree to appease my parents. I did not plan to spend any more time in the classroom than was required. School was not for me, and I knew that early on.

  Sajdah, however, was all the way there for it. She graduated a year early at the top of her class and was year two into her bachelor of science in engineering. She was fittin’ to make all kinds of crazy money, having early on gotten the opportunity to design several buildings right in the downtown Philadelphia area. Little Sister (a nickname I sometimes called her because she was born four minutes after me) was well on her way to the top. She wanted me there with her, but I didn’t want all that. I was cool right where I was, at least for now. Hell, I wasn’t at the bottom, but floating somewhere in the middle. That was cool with me. Whatever I decided as a career couldn’t be rushed because I needed to love it. That was my story, and I was sticking to it.

  She never liked Skye and Vicerean (we called her Vice for short because that name was dumb as hell). She felt like once they came into the picture, she got pushed to the side. I tried on so many occasions to explain to my sister that no one could take her place, but for some reason, she just couldn’t warm up to these two, even though she never had a problem with any of my other associates. That may have been where the true separation began if I think hard enough about it. She was never outright obvious with her jealousy, but you could see it brewing. I should have paid more attention back then, and just maybe we wouldn’t be where we were now. Hindsight is a bitch in red bottom heels, I swear. She wanted me all to herself. I just never thought she would be so destructive in trying to keep me. Given the opportunity, we could have taken another route and talked this out.

  So, Chase was a charmer. I was not sure how he found out so much about me. I knew he was a trap boy, so why was I seeing this man in Starbucks every morning like he had to be downtown? I didn’t work near the courts, so it was not like he had to report to my area for probation. I was not even sure if he was on probation. I just assumed all drug boys were. It was cute that my coffee was paid for when I got to the counter. The fact that he was even up and out the hood at that time of day showed he had drive. I had to be at the gig by 7 a.m., which meant I was at Starbucks around 6:30. That’s early as shit to rise for a maybe, but I guess he felt like if he wanted to secure the bag, he had to do what he had to do. The effort was definitely noticed and noted. I still ignored his ass, though. Seven-dollar coffee was nice, but it would take more than that to impress me. I was sure he knew that already, though. Chase was very smart and very calculating. He knew how to set the trap, and it was so smooth you wouldn’t even know you were caught until you were already in it and struggling to be set free.

  “Have you ever seen the guy Chase?” I asked my sister one night while I was practicing
my look for the next day. I loved makeup! But not because I needed it. Both my sister and I had flawless skin. However, I did love a smoky eye and a pouty red lip from time to time. It was impossible to resist any pallet coming from The Crayon Case, and M.A.C. had my card on lock indefinitely. I was a slave to Fenty as well, and not ashamed to admit it. She would just sit and watch, always telling me I was prettier without it. Of course, I ignored her. I knew I was pretty. Makeup was just an enhancement.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him,” she replied nonchalantly. That meant one of two things: she liked him but didn’t know how to approach him, or she was now irked that I mentioned him because, in her head, that meant she was out of the picking. The thing is, she never once said she was interested in him, or else I would have never entertained him. My sister and I were not in competition. The minute she said she had dibs, I would’ve backed off, and vice versa. I wonder what happened to her confidence. We were clearly two of a kind—she had no need to second guess herself ever.

  Rule number two: Thou shall not step on thy sister’s toes. I knew how to remove myself from drama, and I definitely didn’t want any ill feelings toward the only person in the world that knew me better than anyone. The only one in the world that meant the world to me. I’d never let dick come between us no matter how good it was. She of all people should have known that. It was one of those things that didn’t need an explanation. I thought we were on the same page.

  “He’s been low key stalking me lately,” I replied with a short laugh to gauge her emotional state.

  “All the girls drool over him. I don’t see it, though. He’s not ugly, just not my cup of tea,” she tossed out, never looking up from her textbook. “I’ve never seen him with anyone, so I guess he’s free for the taking.”