Power

by Kenya Wright

  I was done with that. I would go toward the light.

  Vinese had said, “Look for the light in the darkness and run fast toward that light, like you’re about to die. Never look over your shoulder at the darkness. Any light you see boy, you run for it.”

  I was a wolf and a sweet sheep saved me by stumbling within my darkness and not realizing that I’d been a wolf the whole time. She sang her song of humor in my ears and my claws retracted. She placed her soft body against mine and rustled my fur. Her natural scent surrounded me, and my fangs withdrew. My appetite for violence left, while a new hunger grew for something more. Something I hadn’t known I could touch. Something warm and heart-pounding. Something only she could give me.

  She showed me love.

  I’m going to end this with Butterfly and go back to my lovely little sheep. I hope to God I never eat her. Just nibble and fucking savor the taste.

  My cock grew hard. Every part of me wanted to turn around and go back to Mary Jane’s arms. Had she been pissed when I left? There could’ve been no other way. If another minute passed with me in her presence, I would’ve stayed there. I had to leave then. Aristotle’s house had shaken me down to my bones. Never did I think evil could manifest to so much more.

  I’d remained blind to the reality around me. I pretended the Ebony Forest was nothing more than odd angles in moon lighting. I acted like Vinese and her people weren’t that harmful and not out of this world. I’d even made excuses for Aristotle’s house, pretending like it was more bad luck than cursed.

  And I was blind to Butterfly for sure. She was her own special type of evil and I pretended that I could tame her wicked ways by giving her power away from me. That was stupid.

  Thirty minutes passed as I rode through the storm, slowing down to make out the few hotel signs still on.

  Was Mercury Hotel on this block or further up? Wait. There it is. Right there.

  I made a left and turned into the hotel’s parking lot. Only one car was parked out front. A pink jaguar. Aristotle had been right. Butterfly lived in the past. That was her jaguar.

  The Volvo parked several spots down from me.

  I put away my weapons, placing the guns under the seat and sticking my knife in the glove compartment. The only thing I kept on me was a tiny razor blade—no more than two inches long. I folded paper around it and stuck it under my left foot.

  Back in the day, before we could get a gun, my friends and I used other things to gain power. The older guys taught us the way. I remembered Aristotle’s brother, Tap, towering over Crusher, Rasheed, Domingo, and me and passing out razor blades to us.

  “Here,” Tap had said. “Keep it in your mouth, under your tongue. If you get in a little confrontation, spit it out into your hand, slice, slice, and you’re done. Best thing about a good blade is that when you cut a motherfucker, he doesn’t even know he’s cut. He’s still fighting as he loses blood.”

  Domingo stood up and pranced around like a peacock with his blade. “Yo, I’m about to cut tons of motherfuckers in their necks. Trust me on that.”

  Tap knocked Domingo in the head and pushed him back to the bench. “Yo, sit your little ass down. This shit is mad dangerous.” He slipped the blade into his mouth, leaned over, and held his lips apart so we could see that the razor had disappeared. Seconds later, he spit the blade out in a blur and slashed the air fast in front of us. “Boom. That motherfucker’s cut. You get him in the gut slash anything else that’s near you and he’s down.”

  “Rasheed isn’t interested.” Rasheed gave his razor blade back to Tap.

  Tap shrugged. “The shit is dangerous. The mouth and tongue are very vascular—”

  “Vasa what?” Crusher asked.

  “Yo, basically if you cut those nerves on your tongue, you might be fucked. So this is how you do it.” Tap loved having an audience. Out of all of the older guys, he was the coolest. In some way, I think he figured he was a role model to us boys. He made it his mission once a week to search us out, smoke a joint with us, and tell us something he believed was important about street life. “So go ahead and grab your blade.”

  We did as he said.

  “Turn the blades so it’s flat and make sure the non-razor sides face to the side. Got it?” Tap checked us out and we nodded. When you put it in your mouth. Go slow, Domingo. Real slow, man. Okay. So when you put it in your mouth, hold those non-razor sides between your teeth. The sharp sides are going to be facing forward and back.”

  Something about the metal being in my mouth made my stomach lurch a little. But I had respect for Tap and carried the terrifying task out with the rest of my friends.

  Tap continued, “Keep your tongue under the razor, but your teeth hinged tight on the non-sharp sides. I’ve heard of guys putting it under their tongue. Stupid. That’s the best way to not have a tongue.”

  We all tried it. Domingo seemed the most comfortable with his blade. Everyone else looked happy to take the things out of their mouths.

  All covered in saliva, I studied my blade not sure if I liked the idea of something sharp sitting in my mouth. “Tap, where did you get this idea from?”

  “Everyone do this shit in prison, man. But I was doing this shit back in the day, man. Fucking elementary school just waiting to cut one of those teachers if they kept running their mouths about me.”

  “Thanks, Tap.” I put the razor in my wallet that Dad always made me carry around. It had been his little attempt to teach me how to be a man. Little did he know, I’d already decided I was a man that would soon be a king where the streets served as my castle.

  I never used that razor blade, but I kept it with me all the time. Tap died a week later. Some West side gang member had shot his pregnant girlfriend by accident. The guy had been aiming for her brother, but shot her instead. Furious and hysterical, Tap and his friends drove over there and shot up the guy’s house—full of him and his family. Those events had started the war between the East and West which ended months later by my hands.

  Tonight, I would use the same razor blade that Tap had given me.

  I, too, can remain in the past, Butterfly. You will deal with the old me this evening. Let’s hope your death won’t take too long.

  With the car off, I studied Mercury Hotel through the sheets of rain. It was still a broken down property. I’d spent a lot of time here, bringing tons of females back in the middle of the night. I’d sneak out of the house, grab my motorcycle that I hid behind Rasheed’s Dad’s house, call up any chick that was available, pick up some food, cop some weed and spend the rest of the night with her. Every girl treated those nights like the most romantic evenings ever. I saw them as a great way to spend a couple of hours.

  Yet, the place was the pits. Cecil B Jenkins the third had owned the place and required everyone to refer to him by his full name. He’d inherited it from his parents, after their deaths. He never renovated, too busy shooting his veins with junk. Still he kept the place open and took money from anybody who was willing to stay in the piece of shit overnight. His customers tended to be hookers, drug addicts, and gang members. Cecil B Jenkins the third never required identification or gave two fucks about what you would do in his rooms. He only wanted his money in cash and the key brought back in the morning.

  It was a two level hell hole of cesspool beginnings. All the hallways had a multi-colored décor like neither of his parents could decide on what wall paper or carpeting to use, so they used them all. It was a collage of peeling samples. Some walls had a flower print. Others patterns of stripes. Another displayed something garish and bright. Most boasted solid colors. The carpet mirrored the same sort of disorder with ragged edges to highlight the hotel’s disarray. Water always dripped from the ceiling, whether it rained or not. I suspected a pipe had burst and wondered if the whole foundation would crumble or be flooded one day.

  A urine odor always mingled with the smoke from every drug one could imagine. Mercury Hotel patrons did it all in those rooms. Something burned and seared e
very minute on that property, filling the air in a depressing way.

  The rooms were no better. I’d never found one that I enjoyed. I just never fucked with room 207. That place had been a setting for many of my nightmares. I’d never enjoyed myself in there. When I turned off the lights, bugs came out. Things crept in the bed and under the sheets. Little feet skittered by. I always had the lights on and barely concentrated on whoever I’d invited. Once the mattress on my bed had bloodstains and holes in the center. I’d discovered it from one of the girls moaning so loudly and gripping the sheets hard, until she pulled them off. We’d fallen to the floor and when I rose, the center of the bed looked like a crime scene that had been covered up. Another time, I’d accidentally fallen asleep in the room. In the dream, ghosts stabbed my chest and drank the blood. I’d woken up screaming and ran out of there with no clothes on.

  I never rented that room again.

  Everyone knew by the end of the week. It was the only joke I allowed among my friends back in the day. As I rose in position with the streets, others began to avoid room 207 too as if that had been my claim to fame. Cecil would complain to me about it, but once I shut down the East and West gangs, Cecil kept his mouth shut.

  Room 207 never saw action from anybody after that. Years later, Cecil died from an overdose and the place rotted on the end of the city.

  It was pure poetry that as I walked toward this decrepit place and stared at the second floor, the seventh room had a light on.

  207. Very funny, Butterfly.

  Climbing the stairs, I raised my hands above me, sure that people watched me from the roofs of other run down hotels. Butterfly would be too smart to be here alone.

  After I kill her, how am I getting back out? I should’ve worked that out, before I left. Fuck it. Everything will work out.

  Chapter 32

  Noah

  A young actor was loved by two women, one with bad breath and the other with reeking armpits. The first woman said: "Give me a kiss, master."

  And the second: "Give me a hug, master."

  But he declared: "Alas, what shall I do? I am torn betwixt two evils!”

  –Philogelos (The Laughter Lover)

  I arrived at the second floor. Two big men stood outside of room 207 with their guns pointed at me. They were both white. I didn’t recognize either one. Butterfly had clearly sought someone’s help outside of Din City.

  Who are you plotting with now and will this person be a problem for me?

  I kept my hands in the air. “I just came to talk to Butterfly. I have no weapons. Check me, if you don’t believe me.”

  They exchanged glances. The shortest one nodded and the tall one came over and patted me down longer than I appreciated. When he finished, he stepped away from me. “He’s clean.”

  “I told you I was.” I smiled. “I’m trying to start a good friendship between us. One that’s rooted in trust.”

  “Your reputation is all over the east coast, sir, but no one ever told me you were a funny guy.” The tall guy kept his gun out. “What other tricks do you have?”

  I targeted him with my gaze. “What other tricks have you heard I had?”

  “Heard you’ve killed more than many.” The tall man spat on the ground in front of me. “Heard you got a hard-on for cutting men’s dicks off. Heard you like to make women cry and kids fall on the ground in terror.”

  “Those are tall tales.” I laughed. “So you must be one of the guards that get to fuck Butterfly.”

  The tall guy lost his words.

  “Or did she give you some pussy at first and then moved on to someone else?” I asked. “The new guy is probably in there right now. Is he? How does it feel?”

  The tall guy kept a hard gaze on me, but his hand trembled. “What do you want?”

  “To talk to Butterfly.”

  “Why?”

  “None of your business,” I said.

  “You talk pretty big to not have a gun in your hand.”

  “Do I?” I asked.

  “Yes.” The tall guy closed the distance between us and placed the point on my cheek. “Why do you talk so big, when you don’t have a gun in your hand?”

  “Because I can take yours.” I slapped him with my left hand and took his gun with my right. A simple trick, if one does it hundreds of times. My friends and I always practiced stealing guns from one another. One instant, they held a weapon. The next minute, I snatched it from them. Other boys sat in front of television screens playing video games, while my little crew explored the game of life.

  I gripped the tall guy’s gun tightly and returned to raising my hand in the air. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble. I’m going to give you the gun back. I just figured you needed me to show you, instead of tell you.”

  The men exchanged glances as I slowly handed the gun back to the tall guy with the big mouth.

  He snatched it from me. “Don’t do that again.”

  I bowed. “I’ll try not to.”

  “Fucking idiot,” the short one muttered under his breath and knocked on the door. It opened a few inches, but I couldn’t see the person on the other side. “Madam, he has no weapons on him.”

  Butterfly’s voice flowed out. Smooth and full of venom. “Are you sure?”

  I’m going to snap your little neck, sweetie.

  “Open the door, Butterfly.” I stepped pass the guys and pushed through the entrance. It was fast enough that they didn’t have a chance to grab for me. The door flung open. She edged back as I kept my hands in the air.

  “I just want to talk.” I licked my lips and let my eyes move over her body. “And maybe we can do other things afterwards.”

  Let her see the truth in my actions and lies, but you’ll never understand the truth of my heart.

  People believed what they wanted. Especially some women who hoped with all of their energy that a certain guy would fall for them. They ignored the signs, pretended he cared, and let the tiniest signs of affection become more than what it was. Tonight I hoped Butterfly fell in the latter group.

  Before saying anything else, Butterfly checked my body herself as the guards remained in the doorway. Inch by inch, she dragged her fingers along my upper body and then trailed them down my legs and over my behind, lingering longer around my dick and balls. However, I didn’t get hard like when she’d touched me before.

  Did she notice?

  When Butterfly finished, she quirked her arched eyebrows at me. “We can do other things afterwards?”

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  She was as sexy as ever, but more like a painting I thought was beautiful and then walked by to forget about later. Next to my woman, Butterfly had no chance. Mary Jane’s loveliness entranced me. It wasn’t some fake result of products, shame, and surgery. The natural parts of her excited me more. And when it came to Mary Jane’s core, she glowed so brightly that light radiated around her.

  “I always look beautiful,” Butterfly said.

  Tonight, she wore crimson lace dress formed from tiny roses that revealed more skin than it hid. Had she already been wearing it? Or did she rush to put it on when they told her I was coming up the stairs? With Butterfly, everything was an opportunity for a performance. Her lush hair tumbled down her shoulders in curls.

  “Yes, very beautiful,” I whispered.

  She widened her eyes in shock. “What are you trying to do, Noah? I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “If you do, then what am I trying to do?”

  “This is some sort of move.”

  I nodded. “It is a move.”

  “To what?”

  “To peace.” I scanned the rest of the place.

  Clearly Butterfly had tried to fix things up. A coat of red paint covered the walls. Emerald green and violet satin curtains hung in front of the windows and fell to the floors. With the storm outside and the window half open, the shiny material swung back and forth. Red lanterns dangled from the ceiling. Cursive letters decorated the paper
and gave a twisted vibe to the space. The old full sized bed had been replaced with one for a queen, although I bet death still lingered on the mattress. No matter how new she’d bought it, nothing that Butterfly lay on could hold positive energy.

  If wicked people bred evil things, then sinful, little immoral eggs crowded the space. I just couldn’t see it, but nothing good would come from this room or this night. I had to kill her and all of the negativity in here. I had to wash this room in blood and then burn the whole place down to the ground. I had to one by one purify my city and make sure that happenings like Aristotle’s house would not sprout up all around.

  Someone coughed behind her. A man sat in a chair next to the bed, holding a gun and aiming the point at me. His shirt had been opened as well as his pants. He must’ve been one of the many guards that she enjoyed fucking.

  I have to get him out of here if I want to kill her. How am I going to do this? Doesn’t matter. I’ll figure out a way. For now, I need to get her comfortable around me.

  “Is this the new guy in your life?” I asked.

  The man frowned.

  “No.” She waved him away.

  He put the gun down.

  “This one just keeps me company,” she said.

  “Hmmm.”

  She formed her poisonous lips into a smile. “Are you jealous?”

  I frowned. “What do you think?”

  “I think you are, but you’ll never admit it.”

  “Then there is no reason for me to answer.” I directed my attention back to her.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?” Butterfly batted her eyes. “Did you come over here to end the war or fuck me?”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “I’m sorry, sweet Noah.” She had the nerve to blush like a school girl. It was always a performance with her. “But your dick won’t end the war.”

  “Are you sure about that, Butterfly?”