Hakeem couldn’t shake her stare; his eyes were firmly entrenched in hers. “Put some clothes on, Drew, before I bend you over this table and give you what you’re looking for.” He loosened his tie, anticipating the possibilities of a beautiful, undressed woman in his house.
“Then I just ended my search.” She pushed the table fixtures aside, clearing a space for them on the island. “Right here?” She bent over the table. “Like this?”
He was drawn to her hairless petals. “You don’t give up.” He turned to Keebler, patting her head. “Get me a beer, girl.”
Keebler pulled the refrigerator open by a dish towel tied to the handle. Lined across the bottom sleeve of the door were bottles of imported beer. Keebler brought Hakeem a cold one.
“Close it back, girl,” he said as he rinsed the bottle off and cracked it open. He sipped the beer and watched Drew climb on the table and open her legs. Again, he was drawn to the split of her petals. A place he hadn’t been since—
“What are you waiting on?” she said. “The table was your idea. I’m game.”
Hakeem said nothing. He was too busy admiring her beautiful body. He still had ripe memories of it from the first time she offered it to him. He chugged down the beer and decided to expand his memory to knowledge. Passing up the feel and gratification of her offering wasn’t going to happen a second time.
“Stop imagining, Hakeem. Experience it.” She held out her small wrists for him, submitting. “Cuff me and fuck me. I need you inside me just as bad as you want to be.”
He took his suit jacket off. “We’re about to make a mistake.”
“At least we’ll have fun doing it and there won’t be any strings attached after we both come,” she said, rubbing her clitoris through the see-through fabric of her panties.
“There are always strings attached.” He tossed his shirt on the counter, then went to put the bottle in the recycling bin. That was when he saw what she had done. His family’s pictures were back on the living room walls. Thoughts of sex left and anger returned with a vengeance. “What the hell did you do to my house? You had no right to violate my personal space like this.”
Her legs snapped shut. “What are you talking about?”
He stared into the living room for the first time in months. “You don’t know me or what I’m going through. And you can’t fix me with a piece of pussy. You had no right to come into my home and put those pictures on the wall.”
“I’m sorry, Hakeem. I only called myself helping you clean up. Showing you that I’m a good woman to have around. I thought you took them down to dust or paint the walls or something.”
“That’s the problem—you thought wrong.”
Aspen walked through the kitchen door. Drew jumped off the table and hid behind Hakeem to cover herself.
Hakeem followed Aspen’s eyes to the hard-on that strained against his slacks.
“No need, sister. I’m leaving,” Aspen said. “Get back on the table and assume the position. I’ll be out your way in one sec. I’m disturbing your groove.” She fixed Hakeem with an anticlimactic gaze. “You should have just told me you had a woman. No wonder we don’t play chess anymore.”
Hakeem recognized the demeanor shift. Right now a slow burn was creeping up the back of Aspen’s neck and scorching her attitude. “It’s not what you think. She—”
“I would tell you to kiss my natural black ass, Hakeem, but from the looks of it, you have enough ass to kiss tonight.” Aspen walked out the door as easy as she walked through it. Her fragrance wafted through the air and tugged at his heart strings.
“Son of a bitch.” Then: “Aspen, wait a minute. Let me explain.” He—bare-chested—went out the door behind her. “Would you please hold up a minute.”
“Fuck you, Hakeem.” She hit a number on her phone that started her car. “Fuck you.”
“I’m confused. Why are you mad about her?”
Aspen laughed, shaking her head. “You know what? I’m not. I couldn’t care less.” She climbed inside the BMW. “You no longer owe me an explanation about a damn thing. You’re obviously not the person I thought you were to me. And you’re not my partner anymore. You quit, remember?” She backed out the driveway and yelled out the window, “Fuck you, Hakeem.” She slid him a look that chilled him to glacial proportions.
When Hakeem went back in the house, he abandoned all pretenses of manners and said, “Get out!”
“Hakeem, I—”
Keebler stood on all fours and growled, showing Drew her teeth.
“Are you getting the point?” He held the door open.
EIGHTY-SIX
Her expensive heels clicked against the marble floor to the melody of her sway. On the far end of the hall, under the surveillance cameras, the night janitor worked a mop in an easy side-to-side pattern. He bobbed his head and sang to the lyrics of “Ready for the World.”
When he noticed her, he turned down his MP3 player and waved. “Burning the midnight oil, Ms. Davenport,” he said loud enough for her to hear.
She adjusted the Chanel bag on her shoulder and waved back with the enthusiasm of someone who wasn’t in the mood to be bothered. She hurried through the office door before he tried his luck at conversation again. Once inside the office, she secured the door with her gloved hands.
She unstrapped the dolly from the Pepsi machine and opened it. Leon was stuffed inside, sedated, but on the brink of consciousness. She put an ammonia capsule under Leon’s nose and his eyes blinked open with a startle.
“Cash, what…what happened to me?” Leon said.
“Take a closer look, dude.”
That voice stole Leon’s attention. “Chance?” Leon said like he was blown away by how well Chance could make himself up to look like Cash.
“You got it, shithead.” Chance pulled him out of the machine. “And I’m really pissed about you destroying my chance to have a family. That means I’m gonna make it hurt.” He dragged Leon from the outer office into Scenario’s office. He left Leon on the floor as he cleared the desktop. “You’ve been a terrible friend.”
“You…you murdered Yancee and Anderson.”
“Don’t worry, buddy. I swear I won’t leave you out. Scout’s honor.” Chance admired the night lights of Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame as he removed the murder kit from the Chanel bag and prepared the syringe. “You fucking moron. Is that the type of joke you play on your blood brother?”
“We were—”
“You were. They were just too weak to tell you no, which made them just as guilty.” Chance put his face inches away from Leon’s. “Law 19: Know Who You’re Dealing With—Do Not Offend The Wrong Person. I’m the wrong Chance.”
“Please, man, I’m sorry.”
“Come on, dude, be original. That’s what all the others said when I was minutes away from punishing them. You watched the news; it didn’t work. Neither did the Oh, God cliché.” Chance thumped the air bubbles out of the syringe. “So you’re not gonna scream, tough guy?”
“Please forgive—”
“You stole a real wife and children from me. You robbed me of a family. Unforgiveable.” He lugged Leon onto the desktop and injected the blue ring venom into his system. “Family means everything, you idiot. Nothing is more important than family.” He cut the buttons away from Leon’s shirt with a scalpel and removed the handcuffs and leg binding.
Leon’s arms fell limply to the side. “I…I can’t move.”
“Children are a heritage from the Lord, the crown of their father,” Chance said as he stripped Leon naked. “Wives bear children, Leon. God created me in His likeness and image to reward me with the fruit of the womb.” He grabbed Leon’s flaccid penis and stretched it to its full length. “But you thought it would be funny to give me a wife without a womb and rob me of my rightful inheritance—a family.”
“Please, Chance, accept my apology. Think about what you’re doing.”
“I have, dude.” Chance detached Leon’s penis with one clean cut.
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Leon screamed.
“I knew you had it in you, tough guy.” Chance stuffed the penis in Leon’s mouth to quiet him. Then he cut hieroglyphics into his body until long after he was dead.
EIGHTY-SEVEN
Buank. Buank. Buank. Buank.
Thursday morning Jazz smiled when she woke up and looked out her window to see Jaden practicing in the driveway. She leaned on the windowsill. “Good morning, Jaden.”
Buank. Buank. Buank. Buank. He waved. “Morning.”
The phone on the nightstand rang.
“Watch this,” Jaden said, pat dribbling the ball low to the ground. His hands moved fast as he switched the ball from hand to hand and through his legs.
“That’s great. Keep up the good work.” She plucked the phone from the nightstand. “Hello.”
“I tried to stay out of this, Jazz.” It was Javenna Myrieckes, her friend and her literary agent’s wife. Javenna was also an author’s representative for Myrieckes Literary Associates.
“If you’re calling,” Jazz said, “that means Eric’s upset.”
“Pissed is a more accurate adjective. We’re catching flak from the execs at Simon and Schuster. You’re four months past your deadline and no one has seen even a rough draft. They’re not happy.”
“I know.”
“They’re threatening to terminate your contract and take you to court to recoup your advance. When people shell out a million dollars, they expect you to produce.”
Jazz eyed her computer. She hadn’t touched the thing in months. “They’ll get their manuscript.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure.” She headed to the kitchen for her morning cup of room temperature water.
“Jazz.” Javenna took a deep breath. “I can’t pretend to say I can relate to what happened. But you have to dig deep and find the strength to move on.”
“Honestly, Javenna, you’re right.” Jazz stood at her patio door. “You can’t relate.”
Buank. Buank. Buank. Buank.
“No one can.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Then: “Tell Eric to use his charisma and clout to stall them. I’ll get them a book.”
“When? Give us something to pacify them with. A tentative date so we can dodge the courtroom.”
Cash appeared at the patio door as if she came out of nowhere.
Buank. Buank. Buank. Buank.
“Let me call you back, Javenna.”
“Jazz.”
“I don’t know when, okay? I have to hang up now.” She clicked off and slid the patio door open. “You’re late for work, and you look exhausted. What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
EIGHTY-EIGHT
Cash placed her purse on the counter and popped the refrigerator open. “You felt it urgent that we talk. Best we get it over with. Checked my schedule and I’ll be tied up in court all day tomorrow.” She sat at the table with a banana yogurt. “My first case isn’t until one this afternoon so I didn’t feel like being bothered with the office and a circus of reporters until then.”
Jazz stared out the kitchen window with a gorgeous smile stretched across her face.
“What are you looking at?”
“Jaden. You had to walk right by him. He doesn’t dribble the ball in the house anymore.”
Cash dug into the yogurt. “Oh really? When are—”
“Don’t start in on me,” Jazz said, turning away from the window. “You need to look in the mirror and edit yourself. You’re inconsiderate and a habitual liar, which also makes you selfish as hell.”
“Inconsiderate?”
“You’re damn right you’re inconsiderate. We’re supposed to be best friends. You haven’t taken that into consideration. I was under the impression that the best friend title came with certain rights and privileges. My cousin is dead, but you’d rather lie to your colleagues to protect this Scenario Davenport character, which is a complete lie in itself, instead of helping me and my family get closure. Doesn’t the institution of family mean anything to you?”
“You have a whole lot of nerve, Jazz. You know I only became Scenario Davenport in order to start my life over with a tabula rasa to build it on. And that way I could find a man who can accept my truth, and together we can adopt children and start a family.”
“Yeah, I supported your grand idea if you were actually starting over. But you brought the same bullshit with you—lies, inconsideration, selfishness. I hate to burst your bubble, but the only things that have actually changed with you are your name and appearance.” Jazz swallowed a mouthful of water. “I despise liars and you know it. But you’ve been consistently lying about everything and everybody since the day I met you. Yancee is dead too. His children think you’re their aunt and you haven’t said a thing to the police. Is being Scenario Davenport really worth betraying your friends, the people who consider you family?”
“You think I get a kick out of being in a position where I can’t open my mouth? You got it all twisted if that’s what you think. I’m losing sleep, and that ain’t the half of it.”
“Just like I told you when you were lying to that fool Chance about being pregnant—fix it! Tell the damn truth for once in your life.” Jazz finished her morning cup of water, then put on a pot of tea.
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t, so I will. I’m going to the cops. I’m through being your enabler and participating in the texture of your lies. It doesn’t suit my morals.”
“And you’ll put me in jail. How considerate is that of my situation, best friend?”
They stared at each other in silence. In those few moments, something happened between them that neither could explain or label.
“I broke the law, Jazz. I obstructed justice by not saying anything to help the investigation, if my information holds any weight other than coincidence. If I expose that I personally knew Yancee and Anderson, I’d have to explain that I’m not Scenario Davenport, and how I defrauded the Bar under my new identity. I’ll go to prison.” Cash spooned out a heap of yogurt and geared up to tell another lie. Prison wasn’t an option; winning and moving on with her life was all that mattered—no matter what she had to do or who she had to hurt to pull it off. She abandoned the spoonful of yogurt and stood beside Jazz at the patio door. “Just hear me out,” Cash said. “I don’t have to put myself at risk and say anything.”
“You’re uncorrectable.”
“Listen, would you? The detectives are days away from fingering someone on this. I’m certain of it. I’m privy to most of the information and evidence gathered on Yancee’s and Anderson’s murders. They’re going to catch the killer without me bringing harm to myself. I don’t want to go to prison, Jazz.” Cash’s cell phone started ringing, but she ignored it.
“I don’t want to see you behind bars. I’m not saying that. I’m not. I’m only saying that, categorically, you have both our lips sealed about my cousin and Yancee based on your elaborate lie.” Jazz poured herself a cup of tea. “You can’t be that blind. Don’t you see something wrong with this whole picture? Two people who knew each other, who we also knew, were murdered by the same killer. I think it’s our responsibility to tell the police that and not wait until they figure it out on their own.” She blew her cup of tea. “Where’s Chance?”
Cash glanced over a shoulder. “How would I know and why are you asking?”
Jazz watched her. “This police information you’re privy to, did Chance’s name come up in it?”
“No,” Cash said matter-of-factly.
“Would you tell me if it did?”
“This is ridiculous. You think Chance has something to do with these murders?”
“You honestly don’t? He didn’t show up to Yancee’s funeral. Chance is the last person anyone would expect not to show up for Yancee. Although the County Prosecutor Scenario Davenport showed up to Yancee’s funeral, Cash wasn’t there. Looks funny. Even Leon thinks Chance has something t
o do with what’s going on. Didn’t he tell you that when he came to your office yesterday?”
“No, the fucker tried to extort me.” Cash started laughing. “Chance? Get out of here.” Her cell phone started ringing again.
“Seems like it’s important,” Jazz said. “You should answer it.”
“Not more important than what we’re discussing, so whoever this is can wait.” Cash pushed the cell phone away from her. “Anderson and Yancee are purely a coincidence, and because of that, you’re way off base about Chance. It’s as simple as that. But look, I swear that our friendship is important to me because we are family. Give the investigation two more weeks. Just two, Jazz.”
The cell phone started up again.
“That way,” Cash said, “I can protect my past and enjoy the future without the lies hanging over my head or creating any new ones.”
And the phone rang.
“What happens if they don’t find the killer between now and then?”
“I swear I’ll go to them and tell them everything I know and face the consequences of my misdeeds. But you have to swear in return that you’ll give me that long. Please.”
After a few moments of thought, Jazz said, “Okay.”
“Okay, what, Jazz?”
“I swear to it. Now answer your phone; it’s getting on my nerves.”
Cash stuck the phone to her ear. “What?”
“Ms. Davenport, this is Detective Aspen Skye. Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m sending a police escort to pick you up.”
“I can drive myself if I have to. What’s the problem?”
“The Hieroglyphic Hacker struck again.”
Cash sighed and stepped out on the patio so Jazz couldn’t hear her conversation. “Where’s the body this time, for God’s sake?”
Aspen said, “In your office.”
EIGHTY-NINE
The truth of the matter hit Scenario so hard, it gave her an instant headache. She abandoned her entire “coincidence” argument when she stepped inside her office and saw Leon’s lifeless body spread eagle on her desk. There was nothing coincidental about that. The murders were connected. And without a doubt, she knew Jazz was right about Chance’s involvement, which only meant she was damned if she came clean and damned if she didn’t.
Wrong Chance Page 21