Skull Island

by T. Styles

  Tobias glared and sat up to the table. Two hands clutched together in an angry prayer. “Not while I’m here.” He pointed at the table. A stiff finger that could’ve stabbed through the wood if he poked any harder.

  She shrugged.

  He touched her hand. “I’m serious. I will never let him hurt you.”

  “No, please don’t say that,” she pulled her hand away. “I realize it’s in your nature to protect but I don’t want that for myself anymore. A lot has happened over the past year because of me and I’m trying to be…different. It’s time for me to own up to my shit and defend myself without getting others involved. I hope you understand.”

  He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t want her going at Arlyndo alone but he had to respect her wishes. It made him feel her even more.

  “Does Banks know how much Arlyndo’s overpossesiveness has taken control of your life? How afraid you are?”

  “No. If I tell him he’ll react and he has so much more to worry about.” She looked around the small Latin style kitchen. “It’s beautiful here, but the fact we came early, to the island, was my fault. Me and Arlyndo’s. Had I not told my father’s secret at dinner one night, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “But then I wouldn’t have met you.”

  Big facts.

  She smiled.

  He winked.

  “But look,” she cleared her throat and smoothed her neat ponytail backwards again. “I enjoyed the meal and I really am sorry but I must go.” She stood up and rushed out a side door leading into the courtyard before he could dispute.

  Although she didn’t know why, for some reason she felt creeped out.

  The moment she bent the corner heading to the big house, she ran into Arlyndo who was glaring her way.

  “You whore,” he said with all the rage he could muster. His teeth were clamped together so hard they could’ve turned to sand. “I always knew that about you, but after seeing you smiling in that nigga’s face in the window, now it’s clear.”

  He was a Peeping Tom by nature.

  “Whatever,” she said, attempting to walk around him, before his rigid body blocked further motion.

  Arlyndo yanked her arm. “You won.”

  She snatched away, but not without his nails dragging a thin layer of skin, leaving blood tracks. “What you talking about now?” She attempted to rub the pain away.

  “I won’t chase you. I won’t call you. I won’t even tell you how much I love you.” He moved closer. “But hear this, because this is when it gets good. I won’t allow you to be with another nigga, not now, not ever.”

  “I’m not tripping off of—“

  “Not Tobias.” He continued cutting her off. “Not some city nigga. Not a college type dude either. Nobody. Because when you get into a relationship, and when you’re happy and think shit’s sweet, I will pull up on both of you when you least expect it and snap your fucking necks.” His breath was heavy and rabid like a dog. Even down to the long lines of spit trailing the sides of his mouth.

  “Arlyndo…” Her eyes were wide with fear. Where the fuck was the cameras when you needed them? “Look at you. You, you look crazy.”

  “You will never be happy, whore,” he said softly. “I should’ve left you in the ditch I found you in. But if something happens in the future, I won’t make that mistake again.” He spit at her feet, globs of saliva weighing on her big toe.

  Before storming away.

  ****

  A soft glow from the lighting along the perimeter of the dining room tried to provide for an elegant evening, but tension was in the air. Everyone was seated at the dining room table and extensions had been added so there was room for all.

  Oh joy!

  Whoyawanmetabe sat at the far end. Banks on the other. On the right were the Wales family and on the left were the Louisville’s along with the Nunez family. All were present except Rosa and Ives who went to get the drinks as the table was already filled with Latin dishes for the evening. Baited breath kept the guests company and within a few minutes she and her husband entered holding icy pitchers of coconut sangria.

  This was the moment Banks dreaded.

  His heart rate kicked up a notch as the ice cubes banged along the inside of the glass pitchers. It was obvious that Mason’s plan, which Banks tried to veto many times, was underway.

  Mason was so dead set on seeing the farce through, that he and Rosa had taken to hiding in corners, away from the cameras, to hash out the details. All Banks could do was warn his family not to drink the punch, no matter what.

  “Sangria,” Whoyawanmetabe smiled as he looked at the condensation forming along the pitchers. “This is a treat.”

  “Yeah, we wanted you to have something from your hometown.” Mason said. “Rosa thought it would be complimentary with the meal.”

  “Complimentary huh?” Whoyawanmetabe said sarcastically.

  Rosa nodded and smiled. It was the kind of smile that sat on a face of someone who was afraid to die, but had to be nice because it was the best thing to do to hide her ruse.

  Slowly, Rosa filled everyone’s glass except for Whoyawanmetabe’s, hers and Ives’s. When the drinks were gone, slowly she trailed over to Ives, removed the pitcher from his hand and poured Whoyawanmetabe’s glass, followed by hers and Ives.

  When all glasses were brimming with the drink, Rosa and Ives took their seats. Everyone was so afraid to move it was hard to breathe in the room. Almost as if someone had turned the heat up high, although the air was quite cool.

  With everyone in place, Whoyawanmetabe clapped his hands together. “Okay, everybody raise your drinks in the air. We have so much to celebrate and I’m confident that my film, which you have all agreed to be a part of, will be everything I envisioned and more. I don’t consider myself a director but I try.”

  Everyone cautiously raised their glasses in the air.

  “I also want to say that I know the past few days have been rough. But we are almost at the finish line. Let us drink!”

  With that, he drank the entire glass while everyone else sat theirs down. The moment the ice cubes brushed against his lips and Whoyawanmetabe burped, Mason grinned proudly. His sons, with the exception of Derrick, also found great amusement in the man falling victim so easily to his plan. All had been made aware he would die today. Secretly they hoped he’d be a better opponent.

  But it was okay if he wasn’t.

  After all, Mason’s plan had been successful. Whoyawanmetabe drank the poisonous juice that was poured into his glass and in a moment he would be dead, and the real celebration could begin.

  This should be perfect.

  Besides, Mason had thought of every area of his scheme. The drink from the pitcher that Ives held had the special weapon while the sangria in the other pitcher was edible and ready. Mason and Rosa even had a plan for the cameramen. All of his sons held knives under the table which they would use to cut their throats the moment Whoyawanmetabe dropped. Even the hidden pilot would fall prey once the door came crashing down that protected him.

  Realizing he won, Mason sat back cockily in his chair as he tore into his meal. With Whoyawanmetabe’s eminent death being near, his appetite suddenly returned. And his sons seemed in the mood to eat also as they tore into their food like savage beasts.

  “You should’ve left,” Mason told Whoyawanmetabe arrogantly. “Now it’s too late.” He continued, with his mouth full of food.

  “Come again?” Whoyawanmetabe said calmly, biting into a beef empanada before dabbing the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin.

  Banks fell back in his seat in frustration as he watched the scene unfold. Whether the plan worked or not, he felt Mason was way off in how he was going about the matter in regards to his attitude. Nothing about him was humble which always led to more strife.

  For Banks.

  “We begged you to leave this island but you didn’t listen.” Mason shrugged. “You thought it was a game but it’s not. And no
w, you’ll see.” He dug into the bowl of Spanish rice with his fingers while dropping it into his mouth.

  “Yep,” Arlyndo added biting into his chicken before downing half the sangria in his cup. “You thought we were gonna just sit back and watch you do your thing?” He paused. “Is that it?”

  “Stop starting trouble,” Tobias said to Arlyndo.

  “Nigga, don’t say shit to me.”

  “I said I’m Latino!”

  Minnie touched Tobias’ hand, begging him not to further bait her ex-boyfriend. When Arlyndo saw their interaction he drank the rest of his sangria and promised to himself to murder Tobias before the night’s end.

  “You’re doing a lot of grandstanding,” Whoyawanmetabe said to Mason. “And your son too. You should be careful about such cockiness though. It may not serve you well.”

  “Nigga, fuck you.” Mason said. “You’re as good as dead.”

  Whoyawanmetabe’s men moved closer to the table until he threw his hand up for them to pause. The Louisville clan thought the situation was funny and laughed heartily knowing that in a moment, when Whoyawanmetabe died, every cameraman would be swimming in his own blood.

  Gashes to the necks or thrashes to the guts.

  “You talk a lot,” Whoyawanmetabe said to Mason. “Is it because you enjoy the sound of your own voice?”

  Mason smiled and wiped the corners of his mouth. “Call it what you—”

  Suddenly Arlyndo rose up and grabbed at his neck as if he were trying to drag a turtleneck down due to being too tight. In his wild agitation, the chair fell on the floor. His eyes bulged and he was pleading silently for help.

  Confused, Mason and his family rushed to his aide with Banks right alongside them.

  “What’s wrong, son?” Mason begged as Arlyndo hit the floor. “Are you choking or something? Tell me what to—”

  Arlyndo’s skin slowly went from brown to blue before his eyes.

  Mason felt faint but he tried to remain standing. He had zero skills in CPR and was totally useless. It was Banks who dropped to his knees and bent Arlyndo’s neck as he used his finger to fish inside his mouth for what had choked him.

  Banks was about his business, trying to save the kid who he referred to as nephew in life. He was so diligent that it was Banks’ face that Arlyndo would cling to as he slipped into the afterlife.

  Mason was another story altogether. The world appeared to spin as all became obvious. Someone had switched the punch and as a result, he lost his youngest child.

  In a most ferocious way.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was a devastating time for all on Wales Island.

  Shay traipsed over to Derrick who was sitting in the living room of the mansion with a dazed look on his face. He stared at the wall, as if replaying the scene of losing Arlyndo over and over. Although death was always a possibility in the Lou family, as it was in any family, it hit different somehow. In Derrick’s mind it was clear that before now, he thought they were all invincible.

  He was wrong.

  “Derrick,” she said softly, while standing a few feet before him, fiddling her fingers. “Derrick.”

  Her soft voice startled him to the present, where again he had to deal with his kid brother being gone. “Y...yeah.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” She asked softly.

  He rolled his eyes up from her cute toes all the way to her doe like eyes. “No…I really wanna be left alone. Don’t feel much like talking.”

  “I understand, I can sit with you in silence if you—”

  “Fuck you want from me?” He yelled, jumping up from his seat before rushing toward her with fury. “It ain’t like you give a fuck about me! You a Wales nigga right? And Wales niggas don’t care about nobody but they self.”

  Shay’s body trembled.

  Up until that moment she assumed he was unlike his brothers and Mason. Void of anger. And now she was faced with understanding that he came from their same bloodline, which made him just as undomesticated. Filled with the same rage.

  He didn’t care that she was crying as he laid into her. She had hoped that he would help get her mind off of Harris on the island but that wasn’t the case. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I—”

  “Shay,” Banks said softly entering the room. When she turned around she saw him and his entire family. “Are you okay?”

  Derrick backed away from her, swallowed and walked quickly toward the exit. He was stopped with Banks’ warm hand on his shoulder. “Son, I’m really sorry about Arlyndo.”

  Derrick looked at his hand and remembered when he cut his big toe. “Get ya’ hands off me, dyke bitch.” He yelled, storming out.

  Banks took a deep breath as his family piled inside the living room, taking available seats on the couch. Although he hated his gender being thrown in his face, especially if it was wrong, he would allow him the slight for the moment. But if disrespect of any kind came in the days ahead, he would be forced to check him swiftly.

  Moving over to Shay he said, “You can’t be with him. You know that right?”

  She nodded and took her seat next to Minnie, who held her closely; for they both had fallen for Lou men.

  Banks took a deep breath and looked at his sons, daughter, Shay and Bet. “We have to be careful over the next few days.” A cameraman entered the room and Banks stared him down with the intensity of a man preparing to break the rules if he didn’t leave immediately.

  Not wanting the rage directed at him, slowly, the cameraman backed out.

  “Like I said, we have to be careful over the next few days. I don’t see anything wrong with giving the Lou family soft condolences but other than that, stay out the way. We already got beef with Whoyawanmetabe. Let me handle the Lou’s.”

  Bet looked over at Minnie and touched her hand. “How are you doing? With this Arlyndo situation?”

  It was at that moment that all remembered that they were an item. In fact, the war itself began over their teenage love. Surely she should be broken up about his death.

  Minnie looked down at her hand, which was clutched firmly in Shay’s. Shrugging she said, “To be honest, I’m relieved.”

  That was cold.

  ****

  There was a lower level in Banks’ mansion and Whoyawanmetabe had discovered it.

  As a result, Mason was tied to a chair, in the lock down room, a place Banks designed for specific purposes pertaining to the most private of matters.

  Mason felt unsteady with the loss of his son and the mysterious man from Jamaica gave him little time to grieve. But it made sense. After all, he tried to take Whoyawanmetabe’s life and in the end Mason lost his youngest son instead.

  The mystery man was one step ahead.

  Whoyawanmetabe learned earlier the day before that the sangria contained poison. The plan was given to him by one of his snoops who readily slept amongst the Wales, Nunez’s and Lou families. Upon realizing that his life was in danger, he alone was responsible for switching the drinks causing Arlyndo to meet his early demise.

  More would have died but most didn’t want to take a chance on sipping the tainted concoction and for that they were alive.

  Whoyawanmetabe, surrounded by his soldiers, walked up to Mason who was glaring his way. “Comfortable?”

  “Ain’t no cameras in here huh?” Mason said bearing teeth that seemed to grow in his mouth like fangs. “You got me in this bitch but don’t want nobody seeing what’s up in here.”

  “You try to kill me and I’m the bad guy?” Whoyawanmetabe said, crossing his arms over his chest. This was all amusement to him, better than sex if anybody bothered asking. “You should be kissing my feet that I’m not killing you and Rosa for the betrayal.”

  “My son dead. Do you understand? My son is dead and you don’t give a fuck! You may have your reason for all of this but don’t you got a soul? Huh? Are you really that fucking vicious?”

  “Why should I care? It could’ve been me. It was supposed to be me. Let’s face i
t, you played a game and you lost. One that you weren’t equipped to weigh the risks. And it is for that reason alone that your youngest is dead.” He chuckled once in the irony. “I mean come on…I tell you about my aunt’s home made coconut sangria and you have your maid bitch make some up? Do you really think I’m that naive? Your plan was sloppy at best, don’t you agree?”

  Silence.

  “So this is how it’s going down.” Whoyawanmetabe clasped his hands together. “You have three other sons.” He lowered his brow and looked square down at Mason. “And you do love them right?”

  Silence.

  “Do you love them or not?” Whoyawanmetabe slammed a fist into a flat palm. It was obvious that his ego wouldn’t allow any question dripping from his lips to go unanswered.

  “Yeah.” Mason said through clenched teeth. “I love all my children. Including the one you killed!”

  What wasn’t within view was as Whoyawanmetabe talked, Mason was quietly trying to get from up under the ropes that bound his hands behind the chair. What he wouldn’t give to get at him. To lay hands on him and watch the breath be strangled from his lungs. Sure he would have to answer to his goons afterwards, who stayed with him at all times. But for sure it would be worth it.

  “Then you will fall in line or I will see to it that your bloodline ends with you, on this island.” Whoyawanmetabe walked toward the door.

  “If you hate me so much, why save me in that prison? Why didn’t you let the guards kill me?”

  “It was all for this moment,” he responded. Looking at his men he said, “He looks a little hot. Let him cool off one more night.” He walked out humming an old Jamaican melody.

  ****

  Howard, Derrick and Patterson were heated at the spilling of Lou blood on Wales Island as they paced their parent’s bedroom. While Jersey on the other hand was so stiff as she sat sideways on the mattress, they wondered if she was having a nervous breakdown.

  After all her son was just killed.