2. The Violence at the Door
Chapter two
The Violence at the Door
Monique
My sister, Chloe’s yelling woke me up. “But you liked ten of that bitch’s pictures all in a row like the thirsty ass son of a bitch that you are!”
Banging came next. It sounded like a fist slamming against wood.
It must’ve been my other sister Jo, knocking at the bathroom door. For some reason, she didn’t know how to be chill and silent. Everything was loud and rambunctious.
And every damn day, Chloe and Jo fought over the bathroom.
No. I’m going back to sleep. The alarm hasn’t rung. I should have about twenty more minutes.
Loud knocking ensued.
Come on, guys.
Jo’s voice sounded. “Chloe, get out of the bathroom! I’ve got to take a piss.”
Annoyance rode Chloe’s words. “You can wait. I’m on an important phone call.”
I turned over in the bed, hoping to get a few more minutes of rest.
“Important my ass! Come on, Chloe!”
“You can wait, Jo.”
In that moment, I realized how chilly it was in the room. My bald head and cheeks were cold. I pulled the blanket over my head.
Jo banged on the door, “Chloe, I’m about to piss in your bed, if you don’t open it up.”
“You better not!”
Chloe was seventeen years old, getting ready to turn forty-five.
Meanwhile, Jo was twenty years old, getting ready to turn ten.
“Hurry the fuck up then!” Jo barked back. “You’re not even pissing or shitting. It’s not a fucking phone booth, Chloe.”
More banging came.
Just one morning I would love to wake up to the sound of a hummingbird or the gentle breeze blowing through a harmonious wind chime.
Last night, I’d fallen to my knees, pressed my forehead to the ground, and begged God for mercy. I needed money to take care of everyone. I pleaded for that and some change—some form of escape from the tragedy that had become our lives.
Did you hear me, God?
Chloe loudly returned to her phone conversation. “Timmy, you’re a fuck boy, and I’m not the one! You better stop trying me.”
“Man, I don’t have time for this bullshit.” Jo knocked on the door again.
Chloe yelled, “Then, why are you liking all of her pictures, Timmy? Tell me that. I hate when dudes lie. And she’s not even on my level anyway.”
“Chloe, I’ll do it!” Jo threatened. “I’ll piss all over your bed.”
They would have never done this if Mom were alive.
Groaning, I moved the blanket off me and sat up in bed. The whole time I kept my eyes closed as if that could garner my body a little bit of extra rest.
“I swear I will piss on your bed,” Jo threatened. “And then, I’ll get that red dress that you love and wipe my ass with it—”
“Shut the hell up, Jo! I need some privacy.” It sounded like Chloe kicked the door after that. “Timmy, you’re wasting my time. If you want that chicken head ass bitch, then fly, sweetie. All you do is play—”
More banging merged with Chloe’s cursing.
“Fuck it then. I’m about to piss on your bed!”
“You better not do it, Jo!”
“I sure will!”
“If you do, I will knock you out!”
“Chloe, if you even dream about knocking me out, you better wake yourself up, slap your face, and then come to me with a top-notch apology.”
Jesus, take the wheel.
Tired, I still had my eyes closed as I yelled. “Eh!”
The apartment went silent.
Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. “First of all, stop cursing! Neither one of you are grown enough to pay rent. Until you can pay a bill, keep the dialogue PG!”
No response came.
“And Chloe, get out of the bathroom.” Another yawn left me. “And hang up with whatever raggedy headed boy you’re talking to for today. You need to be focused on getting up your GPA, not Tom or whoever and whatever he’s doing on Instagram.”
My body ached.
I twisted to the side to get the creaks out. “And get ready for school!”
Chloe’s sigh vibrated through to my room. “Timothy, I’ll call you back.”
Jo laughed. “That’s right. Bye-bye, Timmy Tim-Tim.”
Another loud sigh filled the air.
Jo chuckled. “And hurry up, too.”
A door creaked.
“Shut up, Jo.” Chloe stomped her feet down the hall. “You didn’t even have to go until I was in the bathroom. You always do that.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Jo countered. “It’s just one damn bathroom in here.”
“Stop cursing!” I finally opened my eyes.
The quiet returned.
God, please let them be silent for just five minutes. That’s all I ask for today. Just five minutes.
My head was foggy, but I was slowly waking up.
I moved the blanket off me. The chill of the air hit my body fast. I’d worn thick Cookie Monster pajamas, but they still could never battle against a Glory fall morning. At least they were cute. It was a pattern of dark blue Cookie Monsters floating in a baby blue sky and munching on chocolate chip cookies.
This fall is getting colder and colder.
Movement shifted on my mattress.
What the fuck?
I looked to my side.
To my surprise, my baby sister TT lay next to me in bed, holding her teddy bear, Snuggles. She yawned and stretched her little eleven-year-old body.
I stared down at her.
TT opened those adorable brown eyes and gave me her sweetest smile. “Good morning, sis.”
My parents had me in high school. They were both fifteen and from poor families. My father married Mom before I was born, and they lived with my grandmother.
Once they graduated, Dad got a factory job and moved them into the small three-bedroom apartment we still live in now. By then, Mom was expecting Jo.
Chloe showed up years later at a time when my parent’s marriage was barely hanging on. They were in their twenties—poor and with three kids. Neither ever got to truly live their lives as teens or explore the world.
When TT came much later, Mom hoped that she would be the miracle baby, so she named her Miracle. Meanwhile, Dad would always call her his tiny treasure. Jo and I shortened the nickname to TT.
I studied my baby sister. “Why are you in my bed?”
She gave me a wicked smirk. “You never said I couldn’t sleep in here.”
“You watched another scary documentary?” I frowned. “Didn’t you?”
The sweet smile cracked. “I thought this documentary wouldn’t be scary.”
“Was it more on Paradise’s first settlers in the West burning women they thought were witches.”
“No, but it was still about the West.” She looked away. “This one was on the black town of Crownsville and—”
“TT, we talked about this. No more documentaries on Dream Lake or any of those Crownsville ghost stories. It’s inappropriate for your age.”
Taking Snuggles with her, TT got up fast, telling me she’d been awake for a while. “But the more I know about the history of Paradise, the more I can get clues on the Crownsville Bandits’ Lost Treasure.”
I slid to the edge of the bed and placed my feet on the cold wooden floor. “TT, that is just a fake legend. It’s not real. There is no lost treasure.”
“But I’m the smartest kid in my school.”
Groaning, I dragged myself out of bed. “Yes. Yes.”
“I’m not some stupid little girl, Moni. I don’t believe in Santa.”
The floor creaked under my tired feet. Yesterday, I’d done double shifts at the strip club, waitressing to losers in six-inch heels and wearing nothing but a corset, wig, and thong. Then three assholes showed up out of nowhere and robbed the place.
“Moni, I’m not dumb. The Crownsville Bandit was real.”
I cracked my neck. “Yes, but—”
“If he’s real then the treasure is real, too.”
“TT, the Crownsville Bandit was a criminal.”
“Do you think Batman is a criminal?”
“I think you need to leave me alone.” I sat back down on the bed and stretched each aching foot.
“Just like Batman, when one of those racist people from the South bothered Crownsville residents, the Bandit visited those bullies in the night.” Excited, TT crawled to my side of the bed. “The Bandit wore a black mask and a huge red cowboy hat that wasn’t red originally. It was red—”
“From the blood of his enemies.” I lifted one of my feet and massaged the arch. “Yes, TT. I know the story, but—”
“And the Crownsville Bandit beat the bad guys up and stole whatever he thought was valuable and priceless.” She raised her little fist in the air. “He did it to some of the richest, most racist families in the South—people that had been suspected of being Nazis that fled Europe and came to Paradise to hide.”
God, please let there be enough coffee. I can’t remember if I bought any Friday.
TT continued, “Somewhere at the bottom of Dream Lake is a chest made of bones and impenetrable metals, and full of diamonds and gold, tons of money and—”
“All at the bottom of a lake.” I rubbed the heel of my foot. “Don’t forget that part.”
Every black kid in Paradise and miles away knew the story of the Crownsville Bandit. We had cousins in the South of Paradise—Banks and Sid. When we were kids, the Bandit and his lost treasure was all they would talk about. It got Jo obsessed, and now she’d passed down her infatuation to TT.
Meanwhile, I never got excited. The whole story made me sad. When I heard of the Bandit or even Crownsville, all I thought about was The Week of Blood.
Crownsville had been a successful black town, but the Bandit’s antics brought enemies to the place. I always believed those racist families were mad their Nazi items were stolen. They got together and planned to get rid of the Bandit and Crownsville for good.
The Paradise history books claimed that Black men raped a white lady and triggered a massacre to descend on Crownsville. Knowing the evil of those Nazis, they probably attacked that white girl from behind, blindfolded, beat, and raped her, and pretended to be Black.
And then they incited the mob to go to Crownsville. They burned the town’s churches, schools, and businesses. They broke into homes, shot the husbands, raped the wives, and hung the kids.
And I bet the whole time, a team of them searched for those treasures and never found them. That was probably why they flooded the area and created Dream Lake. They didn’t want anyone else to find the items.
TT spoke, “Moni, the Bandit’s Lost Treasure isn’t truly the stuff in the bone casket.”
Sighing, I switched to massaging the other foot.
“When he came back a year later with the other surviving Crownsville residents—”
“That’s assuming the bandit survived.”
“He did.” TT widened her eyes. “He saw that Dream Lake was there, but he didn’t lose hope. He knew that one day there would be a chance to get his treasure. If not him, then one of his descendants . So he built his home around the lake.”
“None of this has been proven, by the way. It’s theory upon theory.” I let go of my feet, stretched them again, and rose from the bed. “Meanwhile, your schoolbooks are real. Your education will be the true treasure to get you out of—”
“The Bandit left four items around Dream Lake—his journal about his adventures with hidden clues to lead to his other items. He called it the Bandit’s Gospel.”
I walked away. “Leave it alone, TT.”
“But they found the Bandit’s Gospel. It’s in West Paradise’s Museum of African American History. So, he’s real.”
“Or it’s fake and—”
“It’s not fake.”
I’d made the mistake of taking her to that museum and even had bought her a replica of the Bandit’s dagger that had been discovered near the lake by a treasure hunter. It was wooden with odd drawings and a swirling, zig zagged handle. TT loved that fake replica so much, she kept it under any pillow she slept on.
“The Lost Treasure is real.” She jumped in front of me, raised her hands, and held up three fingers. “The other three items weren’t found—the bone compass, the key for the treasure chest, and the map. If I find those, it could get us so much money. I won’t need to go to the bottom of the lake.”
“We’re far from Paradise and Dream Lake.” I walked around her.
“That’s why I’m going to gather as many clues as possible, so when you take me—”
“In what car?” I turned around and held my hands out. “My engine backfired last night.”
She frowned. “When you get Kermit fixed, we can go.”
“TT, I have too much on my mind.”
“But the items still haven’t been found. This money could change our lives.”
“Thanks for trying to help, but what will really change our lives is you focusing on those top grades that you’re always getting. That’s how you truly help. Keep studying.” I bent down, hugged her, and left a kiss on her cheek. “Wash your face, brush your teeth, make your bed, and make mine, too.”
I left my bedroom and headed to the bathroom.
“I have to make your bed, too?” TT called back. “That’s not fair.”
“That’s your punishment for watching scary stuff and ending up in my bed.” I got to the end of the hallway and waited for Jo to finish in the bathroom.
She’d been born Jolene. Mom loved to dress her in pink lace and put pink bows all over her head. Then, Jolene turned fifteen, shaved her head into a mohawk, demanded that she would never wear pink again, and told everyone to call her Jo.
A month later, Jo started binding her breasts to make her chest look flat. She no longer wore skirts or dresses.
When Jo brought her first girlfriend around for Sunday dinner, Mom looked at that white girl, opened her mouth, and crashed to the ground.
Till this day, I didn’t know if Mom passed out due to Jo being a lesbian or the fact that her girlfriend was white.
Or it could have been due to the cancer gnawing at Mom’s insides.
Now Jo was twenty, just five years younger than me. And she was still finding herself. Still, figuring out her life.
The door opened.
Jo stepped into the hallway and towered over me.
At six feet, she was taller than my 5’3 frame. Chloe was also just as tall as Jo and growing. I was sure TT would tower over me, too. Already, the top of her head reached my chin.
Today, Jo’s braids were pulled back into a bun. She had on a simple grey suit with a red tie. She brushed down the front of the jacket. “What do you think, Moni?”
I took in her face.
Our parents might not have succeeded at life, but they’d made some good-looking children. Everybody in our neighborhood always referred to us as those Pretty Glover Girls. We were all dark brown skinned with big almond shaped eyes and button noses, curvy hips and full-lipped smiles that always garnered compliments.
Dad would never let us leave the house. And the first boy that came around for me, Dad opened the door and showed him his gun. The boy rushed away. Word spread. After that, no more boys came to the door.
“Come on, Moni. The suspense is killing me.” Jo posed, twisting her slim body from side to side. “What do you think of my suit?”
I grinned. “You look like a winner.”
“A winner that should be hired to manage a comic bookstore?”
I leaned my head to the side. “Jo, the job is for cashier, not manager. Concentrate.”
“Sure. I’ll be a cashier for now, but eventually I expect to run the place.” She pulled out a joint from the side pocket. “No one in Glory knows comic books like me. They have to see that.”
I took the joint from her. “No smoking before the interview.”
“Too late. What’s done is done, but I don’t smell like weed. Right?”
I leaned forward and sniffed. “True.”
“I’ve got this, Moni.”
“You do.” I kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll be able to help you soon.”
“Not you, too.” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about helping me. I just want you to figure out what makes you happy and go for it.”
“Yeah, but you work so hard for us—”
“Mom wanted us to be happy.”
Jo frowned.
“So, be happy. And good luck with the interview.” I placed the joint behind my ear and went into the bathroom. Before closing the door, I paused. “Oh yeah. Kermit’s engine is down. Some of the bouncers helped me push the car back into the parking lot.”
“It’s at the strip club?”
“Yeah.”
Jo checked her watch. “I’ll run by there after the interview and take a look at it.”
“Do you need cash for a taxi?”
“Naw. I’ll get one of my chicks to take me.”
“Thanks, Jo.” I shut the door.
God, please let Jo be able to fix it. I can’t get a new car.
Thanksgiving was coming up in a month. This would be the first one without Mom. I had to do something big to make them forget about her empty chair at the table.
And what the hell will I do for Christmas? We should go big for TT.
I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at my exhausted face. I was only twenty-five years old, but the bags under my eyes made me look older.
I couldn’t think of the last time I’d gotten dressed to hang out with my friends or go on a date. I let out a long breath.
My eyes watered. “How the hell did you do this, Mom? How?”
Raising my sisters had been the most stressful thing I’d done in my life. And it hadn’t even been a full year yet. If I had hair, it might have fallen out by now.
I rubbed my bald head. “I wished you left some notes on how to replace you. It’s been impossible. I’m barely keeping it together.”
After Mom’s cancer diagnosis, we thought we had more time.
We didn’t.
God, I need a change in my life. Please, help me. Do your magic.
A thunderous boom rocked the apartment.
What the hell?
It sounded like someone was slamming metal into the wall or a door. The sound of wood cracking filled our small apartment.
Another boom came.
Chloe and Jo better not be fighting!
I rushed to the door, opened it, and bumped right into Jo hurrying to the hallway, too.
Wait. Jo is right here.
Chloe was also in the hallway, but she was holding TT. “Someone’s breaking into the front door.”
Jo frowned. “Dad probably owes somebody else money.”
“Fuck.” I hurried to my bedroom. “Jo get your gun and take them out through the fire escape. We’ll meet at Sal’s for breakfast as usual.”
Another boom came.
Jo’s bottom lip quivered. “I can’t leave you.”
“Go!”
“But, Moni—”
“Now!”
TT rushed my way and gave me the wooden dagger. “Use this. It will protect you.”
“Okay.” I took it. “Go.”
TT tried to hand me her teddy bear. “And take Snuggles, too.”
“TT, what am I going to do with him?”
“He has a black belt in karate!”
My eyes watered. “Then, take Snuggles with you. I’ll be okay.”
“But—!”
“Let’s go!” Jo dragged her away.