Renee walked farther into her home, and instantly, her eyes zoomed in on Jared’s sneakers. “What happened?” she asked.
At first, Jared didn’t answer. He just continued to look into space. It was obvious the lights were on, but no one was home.
“There was an intruder,” he finally said.
Julian’s heart skipped a beat. The first person that came to mind was Page. Had she made her move before they got a chance to?
“Where’s the body?” Julian said, pressing.
“She’s been cleaned up.” Jared spoke slowly and almost robotically.
Renee’s eyes fell on Carmen. Suddenly, the dead intruder was no longer important. She hadn’t expected Carmen to wait outside her building; she’d only been pushing her buttons. What she had expected was for her to go home, not fall asleep in her home.
“Who was it? How did they look?” Dane asked.
Jared opened his mouth to respond but never uttered a word. Renee stormed over to Carmen and dug her hand deep into her hair. The tips of her nails scratched Carmen’s scalp as she got a tight hold on her mane. Renee yanked Carmen off the couch and onto the carpet, and Carmen’s back slammed against the floor, legs twisted in knots. Carmen screeched as strands of her hair fluttered to the floor. Renee wrapped her hand around her hair one more time and jerked her forward. She was tired of her father’s mistake constantly being in her face.
“Get the fuck out!” Renee roared. Her pent-up grief and frustration meshed with her strength as she hurled Carmen away from her. Carmen’s 120-pound frame slid across the floor and banged into a wall.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” Lyfe yelled as he ran over to Renee and grabbed her by her arm.
Click! Click!
Lyfe froze. He knew that sound all too well. That was the sound of possible death, known as his one and only warning. He turned around and saw Jared pointing his gun at him. Lyfe closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
This has gone too far.
Lyfe released Renee’s arm and walked past Jared. Metro and Dane stood on the sidelines, shaking their heads. Things were spiraling out of control. Lyfe helped Carmen up off the floor. She grabbed her head and tried to ignore her aching back. Carmen’s pride wanted her to charge at Renee, but the gun still pointed at Lyfe, and the plan her mind had already set in motion, stopped her from doing so and compelled her to leave without a fight.
* * *
During the entire ride back to Carmen’s place, Lyfe engaged in intense huffing and puffing and ongoing, undecipherable mumbling under his breath.
Feels like I’m right back in the living room with Jared, Carmen thought.
While Renee knew a quiet, almost invisible Lyfe, one who preferred silence over everything, Carmen was familiar with a more talkative, interactive uncle. He was two entirely different men in one body, and now that Lyfe had fallen into a pissed-off state, he was the man Carmen had known since day one.
“Fuckin’ disrespectful bullshit,” was all Carmen could make out. Lyfe slammed his foot down on the brake abruptly and caused the car to stop just inches behind the car in front of them. “What the fuck are you stopping short for!” Lyfe flung his head out the window and swung his fist around intensely. “You piece of shit!”
Carmen was thrown forward and then back against the seat. As she gawped out the window, she moved around in her seat and tried to rub her lower back.
“You okay?” Lyfe asked her.
Carmen’s grimace and tensed-up shoulders made it clear how she felt; however, he still asked.
“I’m good,” she moaned. The pain she was experiencing kicked in and out like contractions. Occasionally, she closed her eyes when the pain hit, and tried mentally separating herself from the discomfort, only to fail. “Just forget about it.”
Carmen wiped away tears when she thought her uncle wasn’t looking. She questioned what it was she felt more, physical pain or fury. Renee was peeling away every layer of Carmen’s dignity. Each attack, whether verbal or physical, was a hit on Carmen’s psyche and left her to wonder what more she could swallow.
This is too much. Why must she be so difficult?
“I’m sorry.” Lyfe’s speech was loud and fast, a race among words before he thought against speaking. “I should have went about this . . . introduction more carefully.”
“It’s not you,” she admitted. “It’s her. My father created a demon spawn.”
“I should have.” Seconds passed, with a car honking its horn in the distance, before Lyfe repeated, “I should have.” This time he sounded breathless and defeated. Full of regret and longing to change the past, he allowed those three words to punish him each time he said them.
He stopped at a red light and faced Carmen. It was the heaviness of his eyes, the wrinkles on his face, which spread out like tree branches, and the curved corners of his mouth that acted as a reality check for Carmen. Their dysfunctional family was beating on his sanity and on the one thing few had access to, his heart.
“I think you should lay off. Give her some time to take it all in,” he said.
There was a moment of peace when Carmen felt no pain and was able to relax. She stayed quiet.
“Think you can do that?”
They pulled off and joined other cars on the road. At that moment a jolt of pain rushed through her and forced her to shut her eyes.
“Do you?” he asked, pressing.
Through the pain, Carmen shouted, “Yes!”
Once the pain eased up a little, she assured herself, This will not be for nothing. I will get something.
* * *
Watching Lyfe sit at the kitchen table with a bottle of vodka stuck to his hand and music from the late sixties and early seventies booming from his phone gave Carmen flashbacks of her childhood. She recalled him doing the exact same thing when her father died and every other time life moved in a direction he hoped it wouldn’t. Too intoxicated to get on his feet and dance, he moved around in his seat. Whenever Carmen walked by, he’d tell her, “Now this is music! You hear me? This is talent!” He sang along to the most depressing songs about rolling stone fathers and daughters living in shame until he fell asleep at the table, the liquor bottle empty, his cheek pressed against the tabletop. Had he not insisted on staying the night, he would have become intoxicated from a far cheaper brand of vodka in his liquor cabinet at home.
After Carmen consumed a high dosage of painkillers from her medicine cabinet, her aches dwindled significantly. She slowly walked into the kitchen, nervous that if she moved too quickly, the pain would return. The music got louder the closer she got to the table. Lyfe was talking in his sleep and blurted out his brother’s name. Carmen smirked as she tapped the screen on his phone, silencing the girl group that was singing. At that very moment a text message attached to the name Carey dropped down from the top of the phone.
Let me find out Unc got broads, Carmen thought.
When Carmen was in the middle of reading Carey’s long-winded speech filled with complaints about Lyfe ignoring her, a new message, this one from a Nicki, popped up. Carmen finished reading Carey’s overly emotional text. As she was searching Lyfe’s collection of messages for a second dose of drama, she spotted Renee’s text box in Lyfe’s top three. Carmen’s eyes darted over to her uncle, who hadn’t moved a muscle since she first began snooping. She opened the message called “Renee Niece #1” and read the last texts Lyfe had sent to Renee in the past hour.
That shit you pulled was unacceptable, but I shouldn’t have put my hands on you. Sent at 2:20 a.m.
Your father wanted better for you too. Sent at 2:25 a.m.
I’ll be there in the morning. Sent at 2:50 a.m.
There was no response from Renee. Carmen pushed her shoulder back and straightened out her spine, and a surprisingly sharp pain raced up and down her back. Squeezing the phone, Carmen squirmed and mouthed, “Fuck!” She breathed through her mouth, and as the pain subsided, her breathing fell back into its natural rhythm. Carmen now placed her attention
where it belonged. She sat down, and her thumbs spoke for her.
Your sister’s the least of your problems. At 4:18 a.m. she sent this text.
Jared’s unstable. He’s snorting your shit. At 4:19 a.m. she sent this second text.
Carmen saw the line of text messages from various women on the screen and was reminded of someone just as vital as Jared. Her thumbs got to work again.
Let go of Julian. He fucked someone in Jamaica.
Carmen pressed the SEND button, laid the phone down, and turned the music back on.
Chapter 36
Lincoln didn’t want to admit it, but he missed Sheila. When he first decided to cut off all ties with her, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was tired of being paranoid and wondering whether or not Page had found out that he knew her secret. But these past couple of days, Lincoln had been missing Sheila terribly. After being around her for so long, he had developed feelings for her. The relationship was supposed to be no more than sex, but that was no longer the case.
When he had first called it quits, she wouldn’t leave him alone. She constantly called him and popped up at his house, fighting for them to continue their affair. But as of late, Sheila seemed to have given up and let the relationship go. That was when Lincoln had started to miss her.
He sat on the edge of his bed, holding the spare keys to Sheila’s home. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about going to see her, knew he shouldn’t want to, but he did. Being separated from Sheila had caused a void to form in his heart, which he desperately wanted to fill but knew he couldn’t.
Throughout the relationship, Sheila had done nothing to make Lincoln want to walk away. The only thing wrong with their pretty picture was that she was married, but that wasn’t the issue at hand. Page had something up her sleeve, something that Lincoln didn’t want to witness, and although Sheila was innocent, she was Page’s mother, and in his mind, that was too close to evil.
All the items Lincoln had left at Sheila’s flashed before his eyes, and he couldn’t fight the desire to retrieve them, which he knew was just an excuse to pay her a visit.
Just one last time, so we can end this the right way.
* * *
Sheila’s home was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Lincoln prayed she was home. Normally, she’d sit in silence and read. Lincoln hoped this was the case now. He wanted to see her, needed to see her, so he made his way straight to her bedroom. He was disappointed to see her room was empty. He checked the entire house and found no one.
Fuck. He paced the floor, stopped, and slammed both hands on top of his head. Shit. I guess this is the end.
Although he knew the end result, he searched the house once more. Then, in hopes that she’d return, he lingered in her home, all to no avail.
Fuck it.
Lincoln walked back into Sheila’s bedroom and dropped the duffel bag that was on his shoulder onto the bed. He began emptying the drawers Sheila had given him. In twenty minutes’ time, he had packed everything in the duffel and was ready to go. After walking over to the vanity table, Lincoln stared at the picture of him and Sheila that hung from the mirror. They were at a barbecue and looked happier than ever. He kissed two of his fingers, then placed them on Sheila. Then he headed over to her dresser, removed her keys from his pocket ,and placed them on the dresser top.
One foot outside the bedroom, the duffel back on his shoulder, Lincoln remembered the most important thing he had come to get. He dropped the duffel bag on the floor, walked over to the closet, stepped in, and went straight to the left side, which was filled with Curtis’s clothes. This was the reason Lincoln had only drawers. Sheila touched none of Curtis’s belongings while he was away.
He pushed Curtis’s clothes out of the way and got a good view of the countless sneakers and shoeboxes at the bottom of the closet. Instantly, his eyes landed on the black and red shoebox, and he removed the lid. Nothing was there. Lincoln figured he was looking in the wrong shoebox, even though he was sure he had the right one, so he started looking in other shoeboxes, only to find nothing. Lincoln went through the whole closet and came up empty. He stood back and looked at the closet.
Maybe she got rid of it, he thought.
When Lincoln had first started spending the night over at Sheila’s, all he’d heard was how manly Curtis was and how safe Sheila felt around him. To prove the same could be said about him, Lincoln had gone out and purchased a gun. Lincoln was a lover, not a fighter, so when he’d purchased the bullets, he’d loaded the clip with only one. That one bullet was enough for Lincoln to feel like a man and keep his conscience at ease. Finding no gun, Lincoln figured Sheila had got rid of it. She allowed a gun in the house only when a man was under her roof. Since that was no longer the case, he understood her actions. Lincoln gave the bedroom one last look, threw the duffel bag over his shoulder, and left.
Chapter 37
Locked in a large room with no light, Renee franticly felt around for a light switch. Nothing of use decorated the walls of the room or gave a clue as to where she was. All she felt was rough paint as she listened to the squeaky wooden floorboards beneath her feet, which were uneven and had many cracks. Air seemed to seep out of the room when pain rushed through Renee’s chest and her fingers began to tingle. The unknown pushed Renee to search faster and more aggressively. Finally, she found the doorknob, but she almost lost her mind when she pulled and twisted it and discovered the door was locked. With both hands wrapped around the iron knob, she yanked until the door rattled. Failing to secure her freedom, she backed away from the door and ran to the opposite side of the room. She banged her fist against the raggedy wall and felt the skin on one of her fingers tear from what she imagined was a rusty nail.
She grabbed her wound, stepped back, and dug deep down inside for strength before she yelled, “Get me out of here!” Her piercing tone bounced off the walls and reverberated in her ears. All she wanted was to escape this hellhole. All she wanted was to get out of the dark and see the light.
“Get yourself out of here,” a deep voice answered. The words echoed throughout the room and brought it to life.
Renee spun around, a fleet of nerves and instant panic spilling over her once more. Even though she saw nothing but black, it didn’t stop her from looking around the room. Then her survival instincts kicked in, and the need to fight and defend herself took over. Renee began swinging her fist around with all her power, aiming to keep whoever was in the room with her at bay.
“You always were a fighter,” the voice said. Laughter followed his comment.
Renee dropped her fist. She wrestled to catch her breath and stabilize her breathing. She wondered continuously how this person could see her but she couldn’t see him. Suddenly, light flooded the room, and everything was visible. The room was huge but in poor condition. The walls, like the floor, had cracks in them, along with faded paint and blotches of mold. This place appeared to have been abandoned many years ago. After examining her surroundings, Renee looked up and saw him.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby girl, it’s me.” He had the very same smile Renee always remembered. That smile used to light up a room, and it tucked her into bed every night. It was the smile she had inherited from him.
“This can’t be,” Renee whispered.
One by one, tears cascaded down her cheeks. The light-headedness she felt blurred her vision. The constant rhythm of her heart had her believing someone was beatboxing on her chest. She thought she was losing her mind. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. Renee dropped to her knees, her legs no longer strong enough to hold her up after turning into liquid.
“You can’t live this way anymore, baby girl.” Daniel walked over to his daughter and helped her up. “Do you see this room? See the horrible condition that it’s in?”
Renee nodded her head, unable to take her eyes off him. She feared he would disappear if she did. She rewound her memory and tried to compare the father who stood in front of her to the f
ather she remembered. He was exactly the same. His looks hadn’t withered, and his presence remained strong. The only difference between his being in life and death was his aura. It was purer, calmer, and at peace now.
Daniel went on. “This is your life. You’re trapped in a room, alone and full of misery. Every day that passes, a piece of you cracks, like these very walls. You can’t live like this anymore, Renee. It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to let go.”
Renee backed away from her father, anger taking her over and boiling over like an unwatched pot. “This is all your fault! You left me! You left me to fend for myself, and look what happened! You’re damn right I’m miserable! There’s nothing but snakes surrounding me, and now that bastard child of yours pops up. Is that why you were always disappearing? How dare you!”
Renee was shaking. She had never been so infuriated. The anger she felt was so strong that it had seemingly replaced her blood and pulsed through her veins. She couldn’t control the countless tears covering her face or the dire need to continue shouting.
“I needed you!”
Daniel grabbed his daughter and hugged her. He gave her the hug he always wanted to give her while watching her endure all her hardships. He gave her the hug she always wanted after his passing.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” he told her. “There’s so much I never got the chance to discuss with you, and I’m sorry I’m behind pieces of your agony. Know that I never left your side, never left you alone. I was always there, down to the point where I wished I could come back and save you from yourself.” His face softened more than it already had. “These feelings, Renee, these feelings of yours are too strong. You will self-destruct if you don’t get rid of the darkness. You’re killing yourself.”
Renee looked up at her father’s face, her watery eyes pleading with him. “Let me come with you, Daddy. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I can’t do this.” She shook her head so viciously, her neck hurt.
“Don’t you talk like that! You have to stay here, Renee. You have to live and right your wrongs.”
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