Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
They both exchanged glances as if I represented a crack head that suggested a quick stroll around a neighborhood known for slinging drugs.
“Why do we need to talk to Chase again?” Viv asked.
“We’re not killers,” I said.
“He isn’t either,” she finished, before I could add anything else.
“Hmmm.”
We both turned to Troy.
“Jazz may be thinking with her vagina, but she’s probably right.”
“I’m not thinking with my ... just shut up. You and I both know that Chase is a good person to contact.”
Troy waved my comment away. “He’s a bumbling fool in love. He’s going to get himself killed, but ...”
Viv leaned her head to the side. “But what?”
“But he has Sherman and Mom. That’s better than us. No disrespect, but if I’m going to try and kill Benny, I don’t want to do it with you two. I would rather have Sherman and Mom with me. They know how to have a person buried by the end of the week.”
“I don’t know about all of that, but saying Vivian and I aren’t killers is the smartest thing you’ve said all day.” I saluted him. “It’s not that I want someone to handle the dirty work. I can get muddy and bloody if I need to, but I can’t go up against Benny.”
“You might have to.” Viv leaned against a wall with carved people pushing out from the surface. Each served as a memorial to a great lyrical artist, and each appeared to come alive before my gaze, and somewhat spy on our wicked conversation. “Jasmine is the only one that will be able to get close enough to him. Say we considered stabbing him. He would never let me hug him while I’m holding a knife, not Troy either.”
“Hell no, not me.” Troy nodded. “Jazz could sit in his damned lap with a knife and discuss food topics like how much of a layer of powdered sugar should go on a donut until it’s made to perfection.”
“I’m not that bad.” I tapped my chest. “Besides, everyone knows that you don’t layer the donut with powdered sugar. You douse it in a bucket of that white yumminess, and coat it all the way until there’s nothing but a thick amount of sugar all over the donut and your fingers.”
Troy rolled his eyes. Vivian smirked.
“Whatever.” I put my hands in my pockets. “I think we need to call Chase for another reason. The most important question right now for us is, why is Mom helping Chase, when she’s usually in Benny’s corner?”
“That’s an easy answer.” Viv held her hands out. “She’s worried about you, Jasmine. You’re missing and maybe she thinks Benny will hurt you, or she can’t deal with the fact that you’re gone—”
Troy and I shook our heads.
Now it was Vivian’s turn to put her hands on her hips. “She’s your mother.”
“Yeah, but love doesn’t motivate her. Money is always the goal.” I walked over to Vivian. “Troy thinks Mom is a killer and mastermind. I’ve never seen it, and Troy is the type of person to support a conspiracy theory more than the facts. However, Mom isn’t the loving, emotional type either. She’ll ask you to give her twenty dollars, before she says she loves you.”
“If she’s with Chase, then it’s to get something.” I leaned next to Vivian.
If an Abbey employee came in, I was certain they’d want us to get off the carvings. I wouldn’t unless someone told me to. Right now I needed the presence of something greater than myself to rub off all over me. If God’s love lingered here, then I hoped he painted me in the stuff.
Give me some mystical armor to shield me from the things that will come.
“Mom’s not motivated by money, the goal for her has always been power,” Troy said.
“And how do you know this?” I asked.
“Because all I had time to do in jail was read. Astronomy and psychology. Those were the topics I studied. I had to understand Mom. How she could be one person in front of us, but the streets could whisper about an entirely different woman, someone that no one fucked with unless they had to.”
“I never heard any whispers about Mom,” I admitted.
He smirked. “You never got to go outside. You never got to see the things that our brothers did. They did some crazy shit back in the day. You know the one thing I remember they did each time, before they left the house?”
“What?” I asked.
“They always went into Mom’s bedroom and talked to her first.”
“You ever hear what they say?” I asked.
“No, but I knew that she had an ear to every single thing they did. It took me years of sitting in jail to understand that. Right before Sherman and them committed some of their worst crimes and even got caught, they’d sit in Mom’s bedroom for hours exchanging rushed words in low whispers. No one ever told me what was going on.”