by Jade Jones
The bitch certainly wasn’t Cameron—even though she did have a keen likeness to her. They shared the same complexion and body type, but there was no resemblance when it came to class and etiquette. Cam wouldn’t have been caught dead doing some foul shit like that.
“Who the hell are they, John! I told you I don’t do group rates!” she yelled.
John’s cheeks turned a rosy pink. He faltered in response. “I—I—”
WHAM!
Jude cracked his trifling ass with the gun, busting his shit wide open. John fell backwards onto the cheap bed and grabbed his bloody lips. Someone had to suffer for the misunderstanding, and he just so happened to be standing the closest.
Forlorn shrieking pierced the air after the prostitute saw the guns. Three hundred dollars certainly wasn’t worth losing her life. She never signed up for this shit.
Magyc and Michael looked at Jude like he had lost it. They weren’t accustomed to his blustery temper. Not a single person in the room expected him to fly off the handle like that.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! Shut yo’ mothafuckin’ cocksucker right now ‘fore I put somethin’ in it!” Spit flew everywhere as Jude pointed the rawlo at her head. His index finger rested on the trigger. He was two seconds away from squeezing and rocking her ass to sleep just because.
The frightened woman quickly slammed her mouth shut, fearful for her life. It was obvious that Jude was a loose cannon. He was beyond pissed that his wife and children weren’t there. He was even more upset that he walked in on some shit he didn’t need to see. What a waste of fucking energy and effort.
“Damn, my fault, ‘cuz,” Michael said with quiet conviction. He could see the hurt, agitation, and disappointment all over Jude’s face. He felt for him—especially since his family had fallen victim to the same ill fate. “I thought she was here. He described Cam to a tee. My bad though, man. You can put this all on me.”
In a blind rage, Jude rushed Michael, slammed him against the wall, and pressed his gun to his temple. “You gotdamn right I’mma put this shit on you! Nigga, I should blow yo’ mothafuckin’ head off for wastin’ my gotdamn time!” The veins around his temples were alarmingly swollen. Jude was heated that they didn’t find his family.
“Aye, chill the fuck out!” Magyc said, coming to his brother’s defense. “Ain’t nobody finna fuckin’ shoot nobody! It ain’t his mothafuckin’ fault! He lost his family too!” he reminded Jude. “Don’t you see we givin’ that fuck nigga exactly what he wants! To have us panickin’ and turnin’ on each other and shit.”
The silence in the room swelled ominously.
Jude slowly lowered his gun. Magyc was right.
On the entire ride over he had serious doubts that Cameron was there, but once they arrived at the motel he felt a tiny shred of hope. Now he was crushed with disappointment. It felt like he’d walked in his home and saw that Cam and the kids were gone all over again. The pain and loneliness was overwhelming. It was slowly eating away at his sanity like an infectious disease. Life felt like it was playing its cruelest joke on him.
Jude turned to the man lying on the bed with a busted mouth. He could no longer suppress his curiosity. “What the fuck turns you on about that nasty ass shit?”
The john cringed in fear. He was too scared to even speak.
“Never mind. Don’t even answer that shit.”
With nothing left to say, Jude walked restlessly out the room and back to the parking lot. The moment he felt the cool breeze hit his skin, he dropped to his knees right there on the ground. He felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
For the first time ever, he imagined how much peace it would bring if he just put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Then again, that’d be giving Jag exactly what he wanted.
Jude looked up at the pale blue sky with weary eyes. Stress was etched in his expression. He hadn’t been the same since Cam and the children left.
Will I ever see my family again, he wondered.
As of now, the chances seemed highly unlikely. And Jude was slowly losing faith in himself and those around him. Something had to give.
***
With a look of cool distaste, Cameron watched Jag screw a suppressor onto a Glock 17. He then covered the weapon in bubble wrap and placed it in a cardboard box to ship to himself. He was on his way to complete an assignment—the first since he’d dragged her to a secluded log cabin out in Mineral Bluff, Georgia.
Cam figured he must’ve been running low on funds. That was the only time he ever fulfilled contracts. Otherwise, he sat at home, forcing her to play out his sick, twisted fantasy of being a family.
Jag had purchased the cabin fully furnished and move-in ready. It was tucked off in the woods, away from general population, and anyone that could possibly hear her screaming. It was a nice home that featured 3 bedrooms, a hot tub, pool table, arcade, fire pit, and deck that overlooked the beautiful sunsets. However, it felt like sheer hell to Cameron.
She was living her worst nightmare, literally. Two whole months of being his slave and sex toy was torture. Every day she opened her eyes her hatred for Jag increased more and more. She couldn’t wait for the day she got her hands on one of his guns.
Cameron stared meditatively at him. “Who’s going to take care of my babies when you’re gone?” she asked, miserably. Cam wouldn’t dare refer to them as his children. Jag wasn’t a father figure or a man at all. He was a fucking monster—a savage, untamed beast.
This was the first time Cameron had spoken to him in weeks. Normally, she just ignored whatever he said and pretended he didn’t exist—even during sex. The normal person would’ve eventually gotten bored with her, but not Jag. He wasn’t affected by Cam’s aloofness or snobbish attitude. His crazy ass had deluded himself into believing it was only temporary, and that eventually she’d fall in love with him again.
Jag was out of his mothafucking mind, but that had been decided a while ago.
“Do you hear me?” she said, once he didn’t answer. Cam stared inquiringly at him as she waited on a response.
He seemed deeply interested in what guns he would bring with him on his trip. Like those who walked the path of his career before him, Jag took great pleasure in his work. Only someone who didn’t have a soul or conscience could do what he did.
Cam would’ve given anything to grab the gun he was holding, put it in his mouth, and pull the trigger.
That was how much she hated his ass.
Jag was a professional hit-for-hire—the self-proclaimed best. Unfortunately, Cameron didn’t find out until it was too late. For months he lied to her, claiming he made his living from a restaurant he and his mom co-owned. However, when his true colors started surfacing the truth came out about him being a contract killer.
Cameron felt like she didn’t even know Jag. She damn sure didn’t recognize him now. It was inhumane to hold her and her children captive. It was barbaric.
“I hear you…I just don’t feel inclined to answer you,” he said, smugly. Jag didn’t look up as he continued packing shit in his suitcase.
Cam caught him toss a box of condoms inside and became disgusted. Everything about his ass was so fucking repulsive. “I need to be un-cuffed if you’re leaving!” she demanded.
Jag kept her secured to the bed damn near 24 hours a day. He didn’t even allow her to take care of her own kids. The only time he ever freed her was to have his way, let her use the bathroom, or to grant her time to stretch and get her blood circulating. He didn’t want her getting deep vein thrombosis and dying on him.
“You don’t need to do shit but pray I come back in a good mood,” he threatened.
After slamming his suitcase shut, Jag walked out of the bedroom.
“What if I have to use the bathroom?” Cam called out after him.
Jag stopped suddenly in his tracks. His heartless response made her despise him even more.
“I’ll worry about the mess when I get back,” he said, firmly.
; “Jag, please!” she begged. “At least let me use the bathroom before you go. I don’t even know how long you’ll be gone.”
He breathed a sigh of frustration and carefully thought about it. To her satisfaction, he nodded. “I guess…”
Slugging over to the bed, he pulled the keys out and un-cuffed her. The first thing Cameron did was rub her sore arms. “C’mon. Let’s go. I have a flight to catch,” he said, rather annoyed.
Cameron slowly climbed out the bed. From the corner of her eye, she peeped the pen lying on the wooden night table.
Jag gave her back a light push as if telling her to walk faster. He knew she was stalling, because she hated being bound to the bed. But until she stopped trying to run, that was how things had to be.
Cameron stepped inside the adjoined bathroom. She started to close the door behind her but Jag quickly stopped her with his hand. “Damn, can I get some fucking privacy?! You don’t have to hover over me every time I take a piss! This is fucking ridiculous!” she lashed out.
Jag looked at her sharply. “Use the toilet or use the bed. Doesn’t matter to me,” he said, nonchalantly.
Cameron sucked her teeth and sauntered to the toilet. Jag fired up a cigarette while he waited. He saw the unspoken criticism in her eyes. He knew how she felt about him without her even having to say it.
Cam scanned her surroundings. There were three separate windows but they were all sealed shut with caulk.
“Stop looking for a way out, Cam. There is none.” He’d read her mind and knew exactly what she was planning.
Cameron wanted to cry. “People are probably out there looking for me, Jag. How long are you gonna do this shit? You can’t keep me locked up in here forever. This is crazy!”
His face was unexpressive. She couldn’t tell what was going through his demented head.
“For however long I feel its necessary.”
She met his eyes calmly. “Jag, please—”
“I have to go soon, Cam,” he replied, brusquely. “Finish up. I don’t have all fucking day.”
After wiping herself, she flushed the toilet, and washed her hands. She felt like she was walking back to her dreaded prison cell as she approached the bed. Jag was nice enough to leave the TV on most days, yet she hardly paid any attention to it.
Jag pulled out the keys to the cuffs—
Suddenly, Cam grabbed the pen off the night table and jammed it in his shoulder.
“Aaah, shit! You bitch!”
WHAP!
Jag slapped her so hard that she fell and hit her head on the edge of the bed frame. The blow temporarily left her dazed and confused for a second. Blood leaked from her nose and ran into her mouth.
From her peripheral, she noticed a paperclip lying underneath the bed.
Jag yanked her towards him by her leg, but not before she grabbed it. With his free hand, he snatched the pen out, and yelped in pain. Cam thought he might actually stab her, but was surprised when he tossed it instead.
“Why do you keep doing this shit?!” he yelled. “I don’t wanna fucking hurt you! All I wanna do is love you! That’s all I ever wanted to do was love you, Cam!” His eyes softened and his face was almost earnest enough to convince her. “Why the fuck don’t you wanna love me?”
Cameron looked in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. “It’s a thin ass line between love and hate.”
She could tell that wasn’t the answer Jag was hoping for. His dignity was offended. Much to his intense irritation, she just wouldn’t comply. Grabbing Cam by the neck, he snatched her up and threw her onto the bed. She tried to kick him, but he quickly climbed on top and held her down.
“Jag, STOP! Enough is enough! I cannot take this shit! This ain’t no fucking way to live! Please let me go! I swear I will never tell a soul! I put that on my parents! Please, Jag. All I wanna do is take care of my babies!” she cried.
Ignoring her pleas, he handcuffed her to the bed so that she couldn’t escape. Once she was secured, he grabbed her face and kissed her. Cam bit his tongue so hard that she drew blood.
“Ah!”
Jag pulled his hand back to slap her but stopped mid-strike. Regardless of how much she fought him, he really was trying to love her. He didn’t want to beat on her anymore. He had gotten tired of doing that shit. All he wanted was for her to love him again.
Jag wiped the blood off his bottom lip and climbed off her. “I’ll let that one slide,” he said.
She spit in his direction but missed. “I hate yo’ mothafucking ass!” Disheveled hair and smeared blood on her face made Cam look crazy.
He chuckled, amused by her antics. He felt all of her anguish, but was not dismayed by it.
Cameron watched as he grabbed his suitcase and headed to the door. “Jag, no, wait! Who’s gonna look after the kids?” she cried. “They can’t take care of themselves!”
Silence was the response she received. He didn’t feel obligated to explain a damn thing to her. “Jag, I’m sorry! Please! I’m so sorry about everything! Don’t take it out on the kids! Please just let me go!”
“Goodbye, Cameron.”
“What about my babies, Jag?! You’re just gonna leave and not answer me? Don’t just fucking walk away from me! You hear me, dammit! ANSWER ME! JAG!”
Cameron’s screams went ignored after he slammed and locked the door behind him. Forty-eight hours alone in solitude without knowing the state of her children’s well-being was enough to make her go insane.
Enraged, Cameron continued to shout and curse at Jag until her voice went hoarse. “You’re a mothafucking coward! You hear me?! I hope yo’ ass get fucked up over there! Stupid, loony ass mothafucka! You deserve the same pain you inflict! I pray yo’ ass die, bitch! That’s what I pray for every mothafucking night!”
Outside the bedroom, Rebecca stared incredulously at the closed door. She was the 32-year old nanny Jag hired to look after the children while he was away. She was a light-skinned woman with bushy, nut-brown hair, and thick-framed glasses.
Since Cameron was locked up in the bedroom she didn’t know that Jag already had someone on the job. He couldn’t trust Cam to do anything, because every opportunity she got she used to attack him or try to escape. Jag had to keep her ass locked away 24/7 like she was in a maximum-security prison.
Jag pretended he didn’t hear Cameron screaming and yelling all sorts of obscenities. Eventually, she would tire herself out. Rebecca, on the other hand, seemed disturbed by it.
“Is everything okay?” she asked in a non-confrontational tone. She didn’t want to seem nosey, but she’d have to be deaf not to hear the chaos inside the bedroom. It was clear they had some serious familial issues.
Jag waved it off. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Now look, you’re welcome to anything you see. Feel free to make yourself at home. Mi casa su casa. All I ask is that you do me one, small favor… Don’t touch that door. Don’t go near it. Hell, don’t even look at it. You think you can do that for me?”
Apprehension swept her features. Rebecca saw pure madness when she looked in Jag’s eyes. She had a growing sense of unease just being there. She was afraid of him. If it weren’t for the fact that he was paying her handsomely she wouldn’t have been dealing with his crazy ass. Still, she had an intense desire to know what the hell was going on.
“Why? Who’s in there? Is that the mother—”
“How ‘bout I toss in an extra grand if you don’t ask me any questions.” Her inquisitiveness would only lead to her demise if she didn’t mind her fucking business.
“Agreed,” she said quickly.
Jag was already paying her $2,000 just to babysit for two days. The cabin could’ve caught on fire and she still wouldn’t have touched that door to help. Rebecca needed the money, and was willing to look the other way this one time to get it.
Before Jag left he kissed his daughter, Journee goodbye. She was starting to look more and more like Cameron by the day. Justin, on the other hand, got no love since he wasn’t biologicall
y his son. Jag would’ve flipped if he found out Journee wasn’t either. Luckily, Jude was the only one who knew the truth.
“I’ll see you soon.” Jag headed to the front door and then stopped suddenly. “And don’t forget what I told you, Becky,” he said. “Remember…curiosity killed the cat…”
4
Juicy grunted and stirred awake after hearing Wayne’s phone vibrate on the nightstand. She knew it was his nagging ass wife without even having to look at the phone screen.
An uneasy chill sat on her heart. Every time Tabitha called, Juicy was reminded that Wayne wasn’t fully hers. She loved him more than anything—possibly more than herself, but the messy shit they were doing would only lead to heartbreak, and she knew it.
Recently, Juicy found out that he had a whole wife and family at home. For several months, Wayne bullshitted about being single. He never wore his ring, and he even told her that he didn’t have children.
Juicy naively listened to every single lie that tumbled from his sexy, thick lips. To make matters worse, she fell in love with his cheating ass. She had met him while dancing at Secret’s Gentlemen’s Club on the west side of Cleveland.
Normally, she didn’t commingle with customers, but something about Wayne was different. He had more appeal than any man she’d ever met. Something about him drew her in like a moth to a flame. He was professional, polished, chivalrous, and a different type from the thugs she normally dated.
Wayne was a well-respected brain surgeon who worked down at Cleveland Clinic, and his wife a pediatrician. His family and friends would’ve shunned him if they knew he was fooling around with a stripper. Only it was more than just an affair—at least, for Juicy it was. Her feelings were strongly invested after six months of fooling around. And as silly as it sounded, she had hope that he’d one day leave his wife of 15 years.
Wayne told her regularly that they were getting a divorce soon, but soon never came. He failed to mention the prenuptial that was never signed, so the chances that he really would were slim.