by Kira Graham
“I asked her the very same thing and ended up in a screaming match that consisted of broken artwork and the very real fear that if she gets pissed off enough, she will do me in,” I say, a rueful smile curling my lips. “You know Rosetta. We all do. She’s the ‘talk first, repent later’ kind of woman, and, as far as she was concerned, they deserved to be afraid. That doesn’t mean that she did it, Adonis, and it doesn’t mean that anyone has the right to put her away for it,” I whisper, my chest tight with the recurring fear that the cops will just bust in at any moment and take her.
I’m terrified that that will happen, because if she’s in custody, then it’s too late.
“What about that drug dealer she’s friends with? What does he say?”
“Juan? He insists that it’s someone from our side of the money line. According to Juan, his father Luiz, and even Bee, people on the street play it differently. If they want something, they take it, and if they want someone dead, they kill them. And I think they’re right, bro. The more I think about this, the more I think that this is about making Rosetta suffer a fate worse than death. It’s personal,” I say, my words filled with a building anger that I won’t—cant —hold in for much longer.
For me, life is clear-cut. If you have a problem, you find the solution and do it. If something is broken, you fix it, and if something seems wrong, it usually is. I’m a fixer, a man who makes a plan, sticks to it, and then executes it with a precise goal in mind.
Rosetta is the most important person in my life, and not having the power to make this okay for her is driving me insane. I finally have her where I want her, but the road that’s taken us there isn’t one that I ever wanted to put us on. I should have stayed. I should have fucking stayed.
“This isn’t your fault,” Adonis whispers, squeezing my shoulder and bending to meet my eyes. “This isn’t on you.”
“I should have stayed,” I whisper hoarsely, feeling emotion threatening to overcome my control. “She wanted me to stay, and I walked away because I’m the guy who follows the plan. If I’d stayed…”
“Then you’d both have been hurt, or worse. You know that. This guy, he isn’t in it to target us, but he’ll do whatever he has to in order to send a message. When Chilli’s brakes were tampered with? That was the same day that he took Cleo to lunch and told her to go see a psychic to figure this out,” Adonis huffs, a smile playing over the edges of his lips. “Three hours later, he almost dies when the brakes fail, and he smashes into the concrete divider on the freeway.”
I get chills just thinking about it, and I shudder when I think about how outspoken all the Sweet women have been about this stalker. Hell, Sin took out a two-page ad in the local paper and told the guy to man up and come get her if he wanted to tangle with a worthy adversary. I thought that Ares was going to have a stroke. Not to mention Alex, who takes midnight runs when she can’t sleep and has been found jogging in the park—when her security can catch up to her, that is.
“We need to figure this out, Adonis. Before it’s too late for Rose, and before this guy gets more unhinged. We’re all targets now, and I, for one, can’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder while you lock Cleo up in some tower.”
“As if I haven’t already? I’m lucky with Cleo-mine. She’s easily contented with her kitchen, online shopping, and daytime television. It’s the others I have to worry about. Alex and Sin won’t stay put, and I can’t force them to listen to me. Jack has an ex-operative working at the restaurant with Sin. She stabbed him in the hand with a fork when he suggested that she not take a smoke break,” he says, a reluctant smile twitching at his lips.
“She doesn’t smoke.”
“Cigarettes. She doesn’t smoke cigarettes, but apparently she tokes a little reefer when she’s stressed. I’d say that having one of your sisters arrested for murder is a pretty hefty stressor,” he points out, going silent when the door is yanked open to reveal a scowling Rosetta.
“Dana and I want chocolates from Cleo’s stash. Make it happen,” she barks before giving us a suspicious look and slamming the door again.
“I am really lucky with Cleo—really, really lucky,” Adonis says again with a shake of his head.
“Go raid your stash.”
“Sorry, bruh. I adore Rosetta, but no one gets into my candy,” he mutters, sauntering off with a wave. “Call Chilli. He’s the only one who gets a weekly stash.”
Shit.
Rosetta
I used to watch Survivor before I realized that speculating about living on an island and surviving was something that I could actually do. In theory, I think that I could survive and maybe even thrive, but, in a logical, reality-based way, I don’t ever want to find out. Sand, seawater, and flea bites are not my bag. Neither is starving, drinking coconut milk, and having to boil water to rid it of parasites that could kill me.
The reality is, I’m a luxury baby, a woman who has many material needs, and I am not one bit ashamed to admit that. I’ve also watched Orange Is the New Black, and I used to watch this British show called Bad Girls with my Grammy before she kicked the bucket called life.
I have a point here, and I will get to it—just bear with me, okay?
So, I know about survival, and I’ve watched those prison chicks survive a lot. In theory, I should be okay to make a killer shank out of melted sanitary pads, and, if worst comes to worst, Tee has taught me how to bite chunks out of people with minimal strain to the teeth.
However, and here’s the point, I don’t think that I could live in prison without my thousand-dollar sheets, steam shower, and specialty body lotion that actually works on my fair skin. I would die if I weren’t able to drink sixteen cups of coffee a day, eat chocolate at will, and use the bathroom without scrubbing down the toilet.
I need luxury in my life. It keeps me steady, stable, and all those other words that you can use to describe a state of mind that borders on sane. If I got tossed into the big house, I’d get my ass killed within a week, and I know it. I’d probably attack someone just for that very purpose and croak with a smile on my face.
See? That’s the whole point. Choice. I need choice. Like, right now? Chilli is tied to the couch in Zeus’s office, watching me eat his chocolate. Yeah, like I wasn’t going to eavesdrop at the door the whole time that Z and Adonis were talking. It’s a good thing for them that I care more about satisfying my cravings than letting myself go mental about the whole prison thing.
I could. I mean, I’m just dramatic enough to pull off a mental breakdown and force the judge to have me declared insane and unfit to stand trial. Plus, I think it’s a genetic impossibility for me to be completely sane, so there’s that.
What I got from that whole exchange, though, is that Z has this Plan B going where he thinks that he’s going to drug me and manhandle me onto a jet so that we can fly off into the sunset and share a life as wanted fugitives. I could rock that. I watched Swordfish, and I think that I could pull off blonde hair much better than John Travolta did at the end there, but whatever, right? I’m talking about choices here, and in this episode of Rosetta’s Got a Choice, I’m eating chocolate and pumping Chilli for the information that Zeus won’t talk to me about. Like the fact that they have no leads, and the real and terrifying thought that I am going to be arrested soon if I don’t do something.
Oh, and FYI, I resent the fact that Zeus thinks that I’m using sex to distract myself from this mess. It’s partly true, but still, it suggests that I’m not mentally strong enough to deal with my issues.
“Please untie me,” Chilli begs, watching me tap away at the keys as I try to get Zeus’s paperwork logged and in order.
I’m really enjoying doing his job—like, a lot—and that’s given me this idea that if I don’t get thrown in jail for life, I should totally steal this job. The office space alone is worth the betrayal I’d inflict on him.
“Shut up. We were talking about this Heath character,” I remind him, moaning sadly when I get to the last choc
olate in the box.
“I can’t talk to you about this, Rosetta. You know that—”
“What I know is that Zeus is upstairs talking to Adonis and Waters about the contract terms that I suggested, so you’re all alone here with me for”—I check my watch—“the next hour, at least. I can get creative in an hour, Chilli, and I can get even more creative considering the fact that Zeus has a fully stocked desk, complete with a large hole punch and a heavy-duty stapler,” I point out, smiling when he eyes the door frantically and fights against the duct tape that I’ve mummified him with.
“Be fair, Rosie! If I tell you this stuff, Z is going to kill me. He does karate, Rosie. He does this thing with his fingertips and my kidneys that really hurts. I don’t fight well, Rosie! I always trip and somehow manage to hurt myself more than the other guy hurts me,” he whines
I’d laugh because the one thing that I have always adored about Chilli is his honesty. He doesn’t pretend to be tough and invincible like most guys. He admits to his many faults and shamelessly flirts while melting the hearts of many an airheaded bimbo with that incredibly adorable pout.
Thank God that I am totally in lust with his brother right now, and thus immune to his charms. I’m not saying that he isn’t so handsome that it makes my eyeballs want to burst, because he is. I am hot, hot, hot for Zeus and his much-larger-than-average cock, but Chilli is like a fine piece of art. He draws the eye and makes a woman sigh with appreciation.
It’s totally superficial, though, so don’t go getting your panties in a wad thinking that I’m visually cheating on my—on…well, hell, I guess you could call Zeus my…boyfriend. Gulp. Shit. Dammit! Rosetta Sweet, you complete idiot! You went and fell for the heat of the moment scenario and totally got your ass obsessed with Zeus Hart!
Oh, fuck my life! See? This is why I didn’t want to be friends with the guy. I have a personality quirk that my family likes to call “stalker.” I sink my teeth into something—ahem, someone—and then I’m off and running. And the worst part of this is, I didn’t even freaking realize that I was tricking myself into getting closer to Z. Because I didn’t want to fight it or argue against it!
“You’re talking out loud. And, uh, that letter opener is gouging a chunk out of Zeus’s two-thousand-dollar, custom-carved desk,” Chilli points out, clearing his throat with a grimace when I fix my eyes on him and glare.
Dammit! I do not looo—ike Zeus Hart. We’re pals. Buddies. Friends. He’s my alibi. My—oh, for fuck’s sake! He’s my bury buddy, I think despondently when it hits me that he—technically, in a metaphorical sense—just helped me to bury a dead body. I mean, maybe I’m reaching here, but in a very philosophical way, he helped me to cover up a crime. I didn’t commit a crime, of course—well, not this one. The police can’t prove any of the others because, as I told the cops, I’m not stupid.
Which is beside the point! Focus, Sweet. You’re in looo—ust with Zeus freaking Hart! How the heck did this happen? I mean, besides the obvious, ’cause day-um, you can’t even understand what that man is packing, and just how skilled he is with his cock. I mean…I am mentally fanning myself.
“Jesus Christ! Would you stop? Please? I can’t take another minute of this. And stop narrating your sex thoughts,” Chilli pleads, fighting against the duct tape hard enough that I know he’ll have tape burns if he doesn’t stop.
“Was not!”
“Were, too. Eleven inches, you just said. And you licked your lips while moaning about his balls. Please let me go. Please. I won’t ever, ever come near you again. Hell, I’ll leave the country and take that construction contract in Spain.”
“Stop being such a baby! I’m trying to mentally unpack just what the heck is going on with me emotionally,” I hiss, groaning when he stills, and a soft look fills his eyes.
“You love Z, Rosie. It’s obvious,” he says softly, a tender smile crooking up the corners of his lips.
“I do not!” I argue, on principle.
Mostly because I don’t know if I’m lying or not. I mean, how the hell did this happen? I don’t even really like Zeus. He’s anal—
“Please don’t say anal and then start talking about sex with my brother!” Chilli yells in a high-pitched voice that has me breaking into giggles.
Mainly because I could torture him right now, but I won’t. What Z and I do, or don’t do, is our business. Unless I want to torture Chilli. However…
“We don’t do those kinds of things. Mostly. Well…”
“Rose!”
“Oh, fine,” I huff, hitting the last key on an entry so that I can concentrate my entire mind on just what the heck I’ve gotten myself into.
Ironically, this reality is a lot more terrifying to me than the thought of going to jail for the rest of my life; I just can’t quite understand why.
“You’re emotionally stunted because you think that I screwed you up, but Rosie, babycakes, you have to see that you didn’t, and never did, love me,” he says gently.
I frown at that, because I don’t know if I can argue his point. Sure, I used to sit outside his house and mentally plot the murder of any woman he was with, but that was all just in the spirit of fun. And he is hot. It’s sick, really, but if I’m being completely honest, Achilles is the most beautiful man that I have ever seen, even compared to Zeus.
“Rose, focus. We’re talking about how you feel about Zeus.”
“We’re supposed to be just friends. He said we were friends,” I whisper in a whiny voice.
Because, dammit, I know that I got my ass played, just like Cleo got played when she met Adonis. The man took one look at her after he realized that she was duping him, decided that he had to have her, and then used her confused and convoluted reasoning to trick her into being his friend. Then they screwed, which is always, always, a mistake. Once you’re with a guy who not only sexually satisfies you, but also draws you in on an intellectual and emotional level, you’re done for.
And that’s where I am at now. I was pals with Zeus. We talked about everything from my job, to my antics with Chilli, to my Pap smear results and that herpes scare I had, though how I’d have contracted the herps, I still can’t explain.
I was under a lot of stress, okay? I happen to have an imaginative mind. And a sick obsession with WebMD. It’s a problem. But anyway! The point is, he lulled me into a false sense of security with his easy-to-talk-to bullshit, and he made me feel safe with him, and then—then he made moves on me, but in this really insidious and frankly genius way that I didn’t even see coming until…I was…
Dammit.
“You people are sneaky liars! You’re all sneaky liars who use friendship to trap and completely unsettle a woman. Who taught you this crap? It’s like emotional warfare, and just look at me now!” I yell, my screams muffled against my hands, where my face is buried. “He’s my freaking bury buddy.”
Chilli chuckles, and, if it weren’t for the fact that he looks like shit—mental note, I must find out just what the heck is up with this guy—I would totally kill him with the onyx paperweight that I gave Zeus two months ago for his birthday.
Damn smug ass.
“Ma always told us, if you can’t imagine being best friends with a woman and sharing even the grossest things with her, then you have no business wanting to drill her,” Chilli says as he shrugs, laughing when I gape.
“Your mother said that?”
“She says a lot. But yeah, that’s her overriding consensus. Also, being friends with other women is a no-no. She despairs of me ever shaping up, let me tell ya,” he muses, bringing forth a reluctant giggle from me.
Chilli has the biggest pool of girlfriends that I have ever come across, and when I say friends, I mean friends. After he sleeps with chicks and moves on, they just sort of stick around, probably figuring that being his pal is better than being in his rearview mirror. Christ. Like me. I think that I may be…friends with Chilli, even after he confessed to me that he’s totally sexually into my cousin Alex.
&nb
sp; “You’re a lost cause, all right? But I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re worth having around. As a friend,” I stress, smiling back at him when he grins and inclines his head.
“We’re friends—true friends, Rose. I missed you, sweetheart, and to be honest, I was a little peeved when Zeus started moving in on you and told me to get lost. He took up that friendship spot so fast that you didn’t even have a chance to miss me,” he pouts, making me chuckle and shake my head.
“You’re a greedy boy, Chilli Hart. You want to have your cake and eat it, too, but I agree. No offense to Z, but he’s a really cut-and-dried kind of guy. I pose questions to him that should involve lots of emotional angles, and he goes straight for cold, hard facts and logic. Where’s the fun in logic?” I ask, grinning when he shudders.
“Nowhere. Fun and logic do not in the middle meet, my fair redhead. Now, about those feelings—” he starts, zipping his lips when the door opens, and a disgruntled Zeus storms in, only to come to a dead stop, his eyes going wide with shock when he catches sight of his brother.
“Jesus, Rosetta! What the hell?”
I shrug, mostly because I don’t really have much of an explanation to give him. Did I ambush Chilli at the door, karate-chop him, use his clumsiness against him, and then wrap him up in duct tape? Why, yes—yes, I did. And furthermore, I used my awesome strength and even managed to haul him onto the couch. What that says about my ability to commit a murder, I don’t want to examine, but mainly because it could count against me in a court of law.
“We’re talking, Z. Chill out,” Chilli mutters, grinning when I giggle and blow him a kiss.
Not that we’re all right on every level, because we aren’t. He still hurt my feelings and kept stringing me along, which deserves punishment, but maybe instead of ignoring him completely, I could soften up on my cold war tactics. Besides, I didn’t get any answers about Z’s plans, and I want them. In fact, I need them if I’m going to make the right choices down the line. I may be grateful to him and Joe for helping me, but if it comes down to it, I won’t let him ruin his life to save me. I can’t.