Wrong Chance

by E. L. Myrieckes

  “I couldn’t, son. I couldn’t go without you.”

  Jaden said, “Tell him that I love you, Ms. Smith. That you’ve been like a mother to me, so I don’t want him to be mad at you. You’re special to me, Ms. Smith, so I want y’all to be friends and for him to look out for you when I’m gone.”

  “I’m not saying that, Jaden. I’m honored, but no.” Her eyes watered, but she checked her emotions so the tears wouldn’t fall.

  “Tell him.”

  “No, I don’t feel comfortable repeating that.”

  Jazz felt Hakeem watching her seemingly go back and forth with herself.

  “Say what? What don’t you feel comfortable saying?” Hakeem said.

  She sighed. “He wants you to know that he looks at me like a second mom and he loves me. So he asks that you hold nothing against me for what happened.” She looked to the tumbling leaves on the ground, feeling ashamed. “He wants us to be friends and look out for each other when he’s gone.”

  Jaden said, “That’s not exactly what I said, but I cosign it.”

  “Jaden, son, I love you with all I am. There hasn’t been a single hour that I haven’t thought about you. And there won’t be a day that I won’t miss you for as long as I live. Because of you, Jazz and I will always be bonded.”

  “Thank you,” Jazz said, then listened to Jaden. “He says he loves you too and not to pay me any attention when I have my mean spells.” She shook her head. “I’m not mean, Mr. Eubanks. He was deliberately trying to drive me crazy bouncing that darn ball in the house.”

  “Tell me about it.” Hakeem chuckled.

  Jaden pointed. “It’s time for me to go.”

  Jazz saw a woman in the distance waving Jaden to her.

  “That’s my mother.”

  Keebler saw the woman and started barking and pulling, excited to near hysteria.

  “What’s wrong now, girl?” Hakeem tightened down on Keebler’s leash, fighting to hold her back.

  “It’s Gwynn. She came for him.” Jazz burst into tears as Jaden went to his mother.

  Hakeem’s tears flowed too. Keebler barked and barked. With his bad leg he fought to hold Keebler back. “He’s leaving, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she said through a cracked voice.

  Jaden stood next to his mother and waved. “I love you, Dad. I love you, Ms. Smith.”

  “We love you too.” To Hakeem, she said, “Wave bye, Mr. Eubanks.”

  They waved until Jaden and his mother were gone. Jazz turned to leave.

  Hakeem gestured to Jaden’s headstone. “Your sunglasses and cap.”

  “I won’t be needing them anymore.”

  ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN

  Aspen stepped onto her bathroom scale; she weighed perfect. She smiled. A fresh pack of Newports sat on the vanity table among all the items that amplified her pretty. The sight of the cigarettes kicked her nicotine jones into overdrive. She tapped out a stick to feed the need. Then she saw it. The OB Complete starter kit. “It’s one or the other. Can’t have it both ways,” she said, running a fingertip over the box of prenatal supplements. She gave herself a serious look in the mirror and found the cigarette pinched between her lips unattractive and unhealthy. “You can do this, Aspen,” she said to herself, then tossed the cigarette in the toilet. Then she tapped the rest of the pack into the toilet. With her finger on the handle, she stared at the floating cigarettes. She pulled in a deep breath, then flushed, carving the decision in stone. Slipping out of her robe, she eased into a scented bubble bath in an in-floor tub that would make Tony Montana blush. Thinking of Jaden’s sixteenth birthday, she wondered how Hakeem was doing. She swallowed a supplement, dialed his number, and relaxed against a cozy tub pillow.

  • • •

  Hakeem limped into the Homicide Unit with a new outlook on life. Allowing life to pass him by wouldn’t be what Gwynn would accept from him. He had to thrive. That much he owed to the memory of his family as much as he owed it to himself. During the car ride from the cemetery to the office, Hakeem prayed and swore to God that he wouldn’t break his promises to Jaden or Jazz. He was through feeling sorry for himself and beating himself up with blame. He’d left those negatives at Jaden’s gravesite next to Jazz’s sunglasses.

  Keebler stretched out alongside his desk. He hung his leather coat on the back of the chair, then settled himself into it. He contemplated his cluttered desk. Among a stack of case files was a Priority Mail package addressed from Gus Hobbs. Hakeem almost got angry but thought better of it. He opened the mail with Aspen’s letter opener and found a videotape inside. A note was rubber banded to the tape that read Peace Offering. Hakeem jerked his bottom drawer open and tossed the Priority package in with all the other junk he’d accumulated over the years that he had no use for. Reaching for the turned-down picture frame, Hakeem knew he was on the right track. He stood the picture right side up for the first time since the accident. He had almost forgotten what they looked like.

  Jaden, a boyish version of Hakeem, wore a Cavaliers jersey, holding a game ball autographed by Boobie Gibson. Gwynn, hair framing her slender face and a splash of freckles covering her light skin, had her arm around Jaden as they posed for the picture in the Quicken Loans Arena. Hakeem remembered the moment he snapped the picture and smiled. Even from the picture, Gwynn’s eyes penetrated Hakeem’s soul.

  He reached down and ruffled Keebler’s head. “You miss them too, don’t you, girl?”

  Keebler whined.

  Hakeem focused back on the picture. “I promise to live again, and I’ll always love y’all.”

  His cell phone rang. After digging it out of his leather coat, Hakeem said, “Communicate.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Restoring order to my life. Figured I’d start by cleaning up my desk. Why? What are you up to?”

  “Taking a bath.”

  He tried hard not to imagine that. “Aspen, you didn’t call to tell me that.”

  “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

  “It’s awkward.” He took the restraints off. He couldn’t help himself. Now he pictured her chocolate skin wet with bubbles. Her hair pinned up in a bun…and those dimples.

  She said, “Well, now you don’t have to add talk to Aspen while she’s naked and in the tub to your bucket list.” Then: “A deal is a deal, Hakeem.”

  Hakeem said nothing.

  “Get quiet all you want. I’m not letting you back out of this.”

  He leaned back and put his eyes on Jaden and Gwynn. “I’m not trying to.”

  “Okay, that was too damn easy. What in the hell did you do with the real Hakeem Eubanks?”

  “When is the date, Aspen?”

  “Tonight.”

  He pulled out a pen and found something to write on. “Phoenix Lovelace, right?”

  “You remembered.”

  “Where?”

  “X & O in the flats. Ten o’clock.”

  “How am I supposed to know what she looks like?”

  “Don’t worry about it. She knows what you look like. Just be there.”

  “Bye, Aspen.” He clicked off and turned to Keebler. “Girl, what did I just get myself into?”

  ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN

  She wasn’t paying attention, but he was. She was too caught up in the relationship section in Barnes & Noble to notice. When he first saw her hit the aisle, he knew. He stood still, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the The Truth About Love.

  She drew closer; his heart beat faster.

  She was a tall and regal sister with a supermodel strut and the serene demeanor of an A-list celebrity. He observed every nuance of her: Long fingers, manicured nails, no wedding ring. Silky black hair tumbled down her back in loose curls. Skin the color of Werther’s Original candy, and he was sure it tasted just as sweet. Her jeans and sweater were sensual and vibrant. Her long strides were efficient and arousing. This goddess was gorgeous enough to make a man look twice. But he only needed one glance. He was hooked. He
put the book back on the shelf and reached for another.

  That’s when it happened.

  They grabbed each other’s hand. It felt sexy. It felt right. She looked up at him with eyes the color of old pennies. Clear. Calm. Steady. It was impossible to ignore the way her eyes bored into him. Instinctively he closed his eyes to pray this moment was real and caught a flashback of their initial eye contact. He opened his eyes because he had to see her again.

  • • •

  There you are, Jazz thought as she went to pluck a copy of Elizabeth Clare’s Soulmates and Twin Flames from the shelf but grabbed a hand instead. She looked into his luminous black eyes. Then the energy of his touch registered. It surged through her body and landed down there. She giggled. Jazz had written about this intense feeling and look a thousand times. She intellectually knew it. She just never thought she would experience it or the look would truly be aimed at her during this lifetime. Love. Longing. Desire. Need. She loved it. The longer they held gazes, the deeper their souls connected.

  “Whatever is happening here,” he said, not one ounce of artifice, “I don’t want it to stop. I’m really enjoying it.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Me too.” She smiled a thousand watts of power.

  “I’m Oasis.”

  She blushed. “Jazz.”

  “Well, Jazz, since we’re already holding hands, how about you let me take you next door for lunch. See if we can figure this out, because I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering about the what ifs of this moment.”

  She looked down at their hands, not even realizing they were still clenched together. It felt good. She threaded her fingers with his to test the fit. Her common sense screamed exchange numbers and build up to a lunch date, but her heart said this was God’s doing. She squeezed his hand.

  “Does that mean yes?”

  She nodded, not sure if she was capable of words. “Yes.”

  “Your eyes,” he said as they walked to the exit, “they’re inspiring. Makes me enjoy smiling.”

  ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN

  Hakeem knew there was a crimp in his plan to be cordial to Ms. Phoenix Lovelace and leave without promises of another date when a curvy petite goddess in a couture Gucci Première gown with a thigh-high split sashayed into the room. She wore a Cartier necklace worth an MIT tuition. A V of naked flesh stretched from her delicate collarbone to her outie belly button. Usher’s “There Goes My Baby” accompanied her spectacular entrance. The moment Hakeem met her gaze he knew it had fiery consequences. It flipped his switch. The intensity of it turned up his thermostat. Hakeem didn’t know whether to approach Aspen or flee.

  He had never seen Aspen more beautiful. She stopped and smiled at him under a chandelier; its light catching her diamond-drop earrings. He took a sip of wine the color of water, placed the glass on the bar, and went to her. Never once giving a conscious thought to his lilting gait.

  “You look…wow, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice sounded like a chorus of angels. “You look good yourself. But then again, you look good to me every day. Hakeem, you know you’re this kitten’s meow.”

  “What happened to your friend, Phoenix?”

  She gave him a look. Translation: Say the right thing, dammit. “You sound disappointed.”

  His eyes flashed. “Try the opposite.” A smile slid from one corner of his mouth to the other.

  “I’m a Gemini, Hakeem. But you already know that. Phoenix Lovelace is my alter ego. So do I fit your requirements? Not too old, and I weighed in at a hundred twenty-five pounds this morning.”

  “You’ve always been perfect, Aspen.” He took in her beauty again. “Let’s dance.”

  “Hakeem, dancing is just a cheap trick so you can hold me and imagine screwing me without actually fucking me and cooling down this feminine moisture gathering between my legs. I say we get out of here and skip the imagination part.”

  A shot of adrenaline boiled his loins. He took her hand. “Where will our jobs end and our personal lives begin?”

  “I don’t think we can split it down the middle, but tonight our personal lives start in your bedroom. And in the morning, together, we’ll decide what labeling you and me we will cost us.”

  With those words, their sexual tension became a tangible living thing. A goofy smile spread across his face.

  • • •

  The short hairs on their bodies coiled under the coitus sweat. Each time Hakeem pushed into Aspen’s never-ending heat, she bit her bottom lip.

  “Feels good,” she whispered.

  He nibbled her earlobe. “You like that, huh?”

  “Yes, baby,” she whispered. Her hands on his behind, pulling him in deeper. “Yes.”

  “Promise I won’t stop until you feel how much I love you, how long I’ve been needing you.”

  “I feel it, Hakeem. I feel it. I feel all of it.” She rolled him over and straddled him shamelessly. “I’ve been loving you a long time too.” She cried and rode him. Rode him and moaned. Came and screamed his name like a spiritual mantra. “Hakeem, Hakeem, Hakeem. My God, Hakeem.”

  They slept in each other’s arms with Keebler sleeping at the threshold of the room. Hakeem finally got a good night’s sleep.

  ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN

  Oasis pushed an ottoman over to Jazz and put her feet on it, then slipped her heels off. “Just relax,” he said. “Tonight is all about you.”

  “That smells really good. What are we eating?” Jazz had gotten used to this. In the last five months she’d experienced what it was like to be treated like a queen, to be the object of someone’s affection.

  Handing her a glass of lemon tea, he said, “How about you let me surprise you.” He gave her a look that she’d told him made her feel ultra girly. “God, I love your eyes. I swear they drive me crazy, girl.” He leaned in and kissed each of her eyelids, then slid down to her awaiting lips.

  And their mouths made love while he gently stroked her face with the back of his fingers.

  “I love you, Jazz. Thank you for showing up in my life.”

  She blushed. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “From the bottom of my heart.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Food will be done in, uh, give me twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.”

  The corner of his lips turned in to a smile. He put Monica’s “Love All Over Me” on the sound system and went into the kitchen.

  Jazz’s cell phone rang. She fumbled through her purse for it. “Hello.”

  “Dudette.”

  The smile fell off her face. “Chance?”

  “Winner winner chicken dinner.”

  “What?” Jazz said with venom. “What do you want?”

  “How does it feel to be the lone survivor of a serial killer? Enjoy the feeling until we meet again. I got a bad habit of keeping my word.”

  The line went dead.

  • • •

  The weather along the shore of Port Elizabeth, South Africa, was upward of a hundred degrees. This was the type of heat that made people hate the greenhouse effect. Chance stood in his sandy backyard enjoying every bit of it.

  Bridgette waddled up as Chance hung up the phone. “Who was that?”

  “Just a loose end that needs tying up.” He kissed her. “How are you this morning, Mrs. Fox?”

  “Hungry.”

  Chance didn’t have to imagine fucking the clerk of courts anymore. He rubbed her swollen belly. “Little Chance is hungry, huh?”

  “So is his mother.” Then: “And I’m ready to hear the raw truth.”

  Chance saw her anticipation. He recognized the unquenchable thirst of a predator lingering deep in her eyes. “Well, let’s go inside and see what Daddy can do about that.” He knew the time was right to invite his new wife into the dark side of his world.

  They turned toward their bungalow. When they got to their patio, Chance called over his shoulder, “Come on, Cham
p. Come on, boy.”

  And their puppy Presa Canario came running.

  EPILOGUE

  Marysville State Penitentiary for women. Cashmaire Fox was one of sixteen women on death row. She was led into an interview room in shackles and cuffs where Brenda McGinnis, the FBI profiler she’d worked with as a prosecutor, waited. Brenda nodded at Cash, then she turned a portable camcorder on.

  “How are you holding up?” Brenda adjusted the camera’s view, then took her place at the table in front of Cash.

  “I’m thankful I’m not dead yet.”

  “Can I get you something before we start the interview?”

  Cash laughed, then stopped. “You can’t get me what I want.”

  “As you know, I’m Brenda McGinnis. I work for the FBI’s Investigation Support Unit. Today’s date is May twenty-third, two thousand fourteen. I’m here to conduct a voluntary interview with you for research purposes and scientific studies into the mind of a female serial killer.”

  Cash nodded.

  “Would you state your name for me?”

  “Cashmaire Fox. I still use Fox even though I’m divorced. Habit. But my maiden name is Jones.”

  “What I’m going to do is tell you what we know about the events and evidence that led you to death row and you can freely talk along the way.”

  Cash nodded.

  “You double majored in college. Graduated Summa Cum Laude. In combination with your law degree, you majored in Egyptology in which you learned the hieroglyphic language. Your term paper and dissertation was on ancient Egypt and the Nile Valley contribution to civilization.”

  “Chance majored in Egyptology. His term paper was similar to mine. We studied together.”

  “Three of your four Ohio victims, you went to school with and were friends with. The other was your boss.”

  “Chance went to school with them too. They were his friends.”

  “You hid the fact that you knew them from homicide investigators.”

  “I was trying to leave my old life behind. And I didn’t kill Marcus.”