Rochelle gave him a wide smile and put her hand over his. “Look at you sounding all invested. How about you take me inside and let’s see how many reasons you can give me to stay.”
Dex stared at her for what seemed like minutes on end, causing Rochelle great discomfort. She couldn’t read him at all, in that moment, and it had her shook. She couldn’t tell whether he wanted to fuck her or do her harm.
“Alright,” he said, finally caving. He opened his door to exit. “Let’s—”
“Move real slow, Dexter . . .” a man’s voice said, in the stillness of the garage. “Try anything stupid and you die.”
CHAPTER 55
Chanel
Dear Diary,
The sun is bright. It’s the kind of bright day that makes people happy, and that makes them want to be out in the sun. If I was home, I would be opening all the blinds right now and probably turning on some music. Or would I be taking Rai to school? Is this even a school day or is it the weekend? My days are lost on me and these people don’t like to tell me what day it is. I can only go by how many times I’ve changed clothes. But then, not really even, because sometimes I don’t even get up to refresh . . . only to use the restroom. My period hasn’t come, so it hasn’t been 20 days yet, because the last I remembered I was eight days into my 28-day cycle. I know it’s the last thing I should be worried about, but I hope to God I’m home by the time I do come on. It’s just not a part of my hygiene habit to be somewhere else when I’m going through fuckin’ tampons!
Ugh!
Every time I try to look at things differently and focus my attention on something more positive, I get detoured. That happened today. I woke up this morning trying to have a different outlook on things. I’m figuring that since nothing’s happened to me, that the demands of these people are being met. I didn’t expect any less because I know that Dario loves me. I know that he would do anything he could to bring me home. I guess I’m just confused at how so many things seem to barge into our lives. It always seems like life is just supposed to be easy. I have a deep spiritual nature where I feel that as long as I have a healthy relationship with God, that things should go smoothly. That the problems should be minimal. But it seems like every time I try to live with faith heavy on my heart, that I’m let down. It’s never anything small either. I’ve been through big shit. But why? They say that everything happens for a reason, but how the fuck am I supposed to believe that shit? Is that just something that people say to make shit sound good? Because what possible reason could this be happening? What possible reason could it be that I am away from the ones I love? That I was minding my own business, shopping for my engagement party and then dragged kicking and screaming into a car with men I didn’t know? I’m hoping that I can believe in good things, when this is all over. I’m missing time from my son’s life. From my own life! From our new life! Haven’t I been through enough?!
Not long ago, I thought my son might not wake from injuries inflicted by somebody I brought into his life. Now, I’ve been targeted because of the man that I love. I know, my thoughts are all over the place, but I can’t possibly write in any particular order right now when my mind is racing so fast in so many directions. When do I go home? How much emotional repair is going to have to be done? Will I stop wanting for these people to die for having disrupted a good life? I don’t like the thoughts that run through my mind. Because they let me know that evil lives everywhere. Of course, I’m only having the thoughts because somebody did something to me, but still. I want for them to die. They die and I can go home. Why should they get to live? If the police come . . . will the police come? Or is Dario fixing this all on his own?
I never thought about that. Are the police involved? I wonder.
I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of feeling helpless. I just want my life back.
I sat there for a few minutes after that brain vomit I had just released on paper. Looking at it, I didn’t even realize that I’d written so much. Seemed like I had just picked up the pen. Maybe I zoned out and my thoughts took over. I didn’t know. Reading back through made me sad; made me mad. I tapped the pen on top of the lines a few times, before picking up the book and slinging the whole thing with all my might across the room.
Writing in a diary was overrated. It was why when that bitch brought it to me, I never gave it any attention. What good did it do?
None, I’m still here . . .
CHAPTER 56
Dante
Dante Jackson looked away from Ozark, his favorite television show, to see if he recognized the number appearing on the display of his cell phone. Better yet, to see if it was somebody he was going to take a call from.
“Man . . .” he huffed, when he realized who it was calling. He really wasn’t in the mood. He slowly pressed the pause button on the remote, and then picked up the phone that was now on its second ring. “S’up?” he answered, dryly.
“Dante, what’s up? It’s Ace.”
“Yeah, I peeped that on the caller ID. What’s goin’ on, Ace?”
“I was tryin’ to see if you talked to Dex.”
“Nah, I don’t talk to that man often like that.”
“Damn, I was hoping that you’d at least heard from him,” he sighed.
“Yeah, well, I haven’t.”
“I haven’t heard from him and I got this fight comin’ up. I don’t know what shit he’s on, but decisions need to be made. He need to show the fuck up soon, so I can—”
“Look, dude. I’m not about to sit here and listen to you whine like a little girl because you haven’t heard from that man. He pro’lly somewhere beatin’ up some pussy. Let that man live and grow the fuck up,” Dante spat, unapologetically.
“Watch that shit, Dante. Today ain’t the day.”
“You right about that. It ain’t the day, my dude. You called me with the bullshit.”
“How is it bullshit when I’m looking for your uncle?”
“Because if you can’t find the man, maybe he ain’t tryna be found. Ever thought of that shit?”
“Nah, I haven’t, because business is business and my goddamn fight is comin’ up.”
“Yeah, and? You got a team, right? Get with them muthafuckas and find out what the fuck is next. You sac-chasin’ a damn man. Don’t let me find out you hittin’ switches and shit!”
“Man, I swear to God. You and your mouth! If I didn’t have—”
“If you didn’t have what? A fight? You would what? Because if you as bad as you think, it wouldn’t be nothin’ for you to jump, and still have the energy to fight ol’ boy. You know you ain’t gon’ win that shit!” Dante laughed. “Punk-ass!”
“You stupid as fuck, man. No-life-havin’-ass. What you doin’ right now? Sittin’ there beatin’ ya shit? Playin’ video games?” Ace poked. “Don’t do shit.”
Dante started laughing out loud. At first, he was only half-listening to Ace. At first, he was just taking the different opportunities to jab, but now, he decided to unleash on him.
“Don’t do shit? You got me fucked up, sucka. If I ain’t do shit, you wouldn’t even have this fight! If I didn’t do shit, ya lil’ punk-ass brother wouldn’t have the protection he got now. I could have that shit snatched with one phone call. Don’t play a hand you can’t win with, my dude. This ain’t the heat you want. Truth of the matter is, you ain’t never been able to stand on ya own. You co-dependent on a man that can barely stand ya ass. That shit y’all got is toxic as fuck. He’s tired of cleanin’ up behind you. He’s tired of keepin’ a promise that he made to ya bum-ass daddy! Shoulda been you watchin’ out for your lil’ brotha. The streets shoulda never got ahold of that ass! But you wanted fame! And where the fuck did that shit get you?! Setting niggas up for rape, so you could scrape up the right funds to have protection for lil’ dude. You weak as fuck. You fed that dude to the streets on a silver platter. You would think that if that was the sacrifice you was gonna make, you wouldn’t have to do crooked shit to get in the ring with the white b
oy. You would be the one packing the arena. But that ain’t you, weaklin’. Told yo’ punk-ass not to come for me. Told you! Low-budget-ass mutha—”
When Dante heard the other line click, he threw his head back in hysterical laughter.
“Ha!” he yelled out into the emptiness of his apartment.
He hated Ace Wilder. Hated his fuckin’ guts. Hated every time his uncle called him with another ‘favor’ that had to do with that bitch! And Ace thought he could talk to him any damn way he wanted to! Walking around like he was better than everybody! Ace didn’t know just how protected he was. He didn’t know that Dante and Dex had, had at least two ‘loose’ conversations about, ‘What if . . . his ass came up missing’. Truth be told, Dante wanted that task so badly, he got hard thinking about it.
But just now with that phone call! Just now! Dante was happy that he got to unleash on him. He almost felt as though he had managed to destroy him, with just that conversation. Knock that fool down a few notches. Gave him enough food for thought to sit and choke on that shit!
Once his laughter had subsided, Dante smiled to himself, in satisfaction, before returning to his solo Netflix and chill.
CHAPTER 57
Giuseppe
“Yes, my love?” Giuseppe responded, when he answered his wife’s call. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, honey, everything is okay,” Antonina responded. “I was calling to check on you. Will you be coming home soon?”
“Yes, I’ll be there before you go to sleep. I promise.”
“Have you talked to our son?”
“I have. I spoke with him earlier.”
“How was he?”
Giuseppe hunched his shoulders, slightly. He wasn’t going to lie to his wife. “He’s as good as can be expected. He was training when I went by to see him.”
Antonina quieted for a few seconds. “That makes sense. He didn’t answer when I called. I just wanted to tell him that I love him.”
“He knows that, baby. I’m sure he’ll call you back soon.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just give him his space.”
“That’s best, for now. All we can do is let him know that we’re there for whatever he needs.”
“Right. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you come in.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Giuseppe took a deep breath, and released a huge puff of air, before returning his attention to the matter at hand. That ‘matter at hand’ had just begun to stir, after having been out cold since late last night. Giuseppe sat calmly, waiting for the wiggling to stop. Waiting for his eyes to open and for him to realize that he’d gone to sleep—but not in his own bed. Waiting to look the bastard in the eyes so that they could get down to business.
“Aaahh! What the fuck?!” he grunted, after a few minutes of struggling on the hard floor beneath him.
“You see, that was my wife on the phone. I heard nothing but sadness in her voice. That does something to a man like me, when I hear that, Dexter “Piece of Shit” Jackson. I guess we finally meet, huh?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Oh, wow. A sloppy wannabe thug.”
“Wannabe?” he spat, angrily. “I could take ya whole life. That’s not a wannabe. You should’ve made sure you checked the resume, before you did this dumb shit,” Dex spat. “This wasn’t smart at all.”
“You should’ve probably checked my resume, before you did some dumb shit like removing my daughter from her family.”
“Your daughter? I don’t know who the fuck your daughter is.”
Giuseppe gestured to the henchman he brought with him. “Put him in the chair.” The guy hurried to do so. He snatched Dex from the floor, both his hands and his legs bound, showing no mercy at all when he slammed him into the seat.
“Shit, muthafucka!” Dex yelled out to his handler.
“Let me tell you who I am,” Giuseppe continued. “Then, maybe that part will become instantly clear. My name is Giuseppe Caivano.”
“Pssh, Caivano. Alright,” Dex said, the nature of his predicament, immediately, sinking in.
“Alright, what?” Giuseppe challenged.
“Won’t you untie me and we can talk man to man?”
“You missed that opportunity. You were too busy being sloppy. A real thug, who’s really about the life, knows that when they fuck with someone, they need to know the entire family dynamics. Gives them a chance to rethink the error of their ways.”
“This shit can all be fixed right now,” Dex said, trying to negotiate.
“Don’t try to negotiate a fuckin’ thing with me. There were so many other ways you could’ve handled things—business ways you could’ve handled things. Ways that might’ve earned you and your boxer some respect. That’s dead now.”
“But, hold on. Let me just—”
“See, here’s the thing,” Giuseppe started, staring a daggered hole into the man he was eager to put a bullet in. “I’m old school. Real old school. In my day, we took out the whole fuckin’ family. You fucked with one of ours, we fucked with all of yours.”
“The fuck you—”
“You have quite a bit of family—immediate family. I’m still deciding on who I’m gonna touch. But rest assured—”
“You better not lay a muthafuck—”
“Where is my daughter, Dexter?”
“We need to do some bargaining, man,” Dex chuckled, cockily. “Because I got a feeling that if I tell you that, I’m as good as dead. Fuck that.”
“What do you propose happen, Dexter? That I kill you right here and find her myself? Or that you tell me, and spare the lives of your loved ones?”
“Nah. That sounds like I’m dyin’ either way. She ain’t even been touched. She’s good. So, we can handle this a whole other way . . .”
“I’ll tell you what,” Giuseppe said, taking his hand off the handle of the gun tucked in the back of his pants. “I’m going home. Give you a little alone time to rethink your decision.”
“Wait! Y’all got me fucked up!” Dex yelled.
But it all fell on deaf ears. Giuseppe was done talking. The next visit wouldn’t be so pretty.
CHAPTER 58
Dario
I was four days away from the fight, which meant that I was four days from seeing Chanel. My energy level was at peak. I had more energy than I’d had in a long while. What fueled my energy was the same thing that fueled my rage. My love for Chanel. My desperate need to get her back for Rai . . . for me. In the days leading up to the bout, there was little to no sleep for me. All I could think about was what was to come. All the good—and the bad. The good would be having Chanel home. The bad, was everything that would be as a result of what had taken place. I couldn’t wait for either.
A little past midnight, I finished slipping into my Nike Pegasus runners. I waited to see if Lennox was going to come bursting out of Rai’s room, eager to come with me, but when he didn’t, I set out on my own.
Outside, I stretched for a few minutes, the cold air biting through my skin. Not a moment after I was loosened up, I took off running down my street. It was really dark, with the exception of the street lights that came about every quarter of a mile apart. The run, in and of itself, symbolized something for me. Running in the dark, while at the same time literally running through this point in my life—in the dark. Gloom was all I had seen as of late. Darkness. That side of darkness that I knew lived in me. I knew it lived there because I almost took up residence in its influence at a point in my life. And had my father not stepped in to take off some of the pressure, I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that it would have gotten a strong hold on me.
I ran fast. I ran hard. In my mind’s eye, it was the more I ran, the faster that I became. Psychologically, it was a way of moving time faster. I didn’t know who would be left standing when this was all done and Chanel was home safely, but this training was more than me getting up my energy and stamina. It was me prepping like a predat
or. For, whoever was left at the end, was all mine. There were two times in my life where I was helpless, unable to help the people that I loved—Lucas, and now Chanel. Unlike my brother, my woman was still here and there was vengeance to be had. The loss of her life, for the time she was gone, the time she couldn’t live freely, doing the things she loved . . . with the people she loved . . . would be avenged—with death.
The music blared in my ears. Eardrums, be damned. I needed the pounding of the beat to keep out any noise that might try to infiltrate in the background. I guess that was how I missed the person in the car on the side of me, trying to get my attention. It was the headlights dancing on the pavement in front of me that made me take notice.
I slowed my pace and looked around.
When my eyes met with the full body of the car, I stopped, ready for battle with whoever the fuck it was. Seconds later, the passenger window rolled down, slowly. I stood still, heaving, breathing out frost from the cold air.
“Caivano . . .”
When he turned the inside light on in his car, I locked eyes with Ace Wilder in the driver’s seat. I was shocked as hell. Even more shocking was the fact that he was alone. The pussy that he was, he usually moved with some kind of flunky crew.
Without immediately responding, I waited to see what he would do. What the fuck did he want? Was he going to stick a gun out the window? What? After a short stare down, he pulled over to the side of the street and exited the vehicle, with his engine still running. His hands were tucked in his jean pockets, as he walked toward me. Watching him had me fueled with pure hate. I wanted to put my hands on him, destroy him.
He stopped several yards away from me and began speaking from that spot.
“I need to know where Dex is,” he remarked.
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