Chemistry: The Chemist

Prologue

“I am not a drug dealer.”

The words I’d spoken time and time again rolled effortlessly off my tongue. Unbuttoning the last button on my right sleeve, I prepared to roll it up slightly. The one on my left wrist and the two closest to my neck had already been undone.

If I needed more reach, more room, to get active, I didn’t need the twelve-hundred dollar shirt becoming a hindrance. Burning bread was never on my list of things to do, but if the top got in the way of my progression, I’d gladly toss it in a tin of flames.

“I am not a seller. I am not a handler. I am not an abuser. I am not a promoter. I am not a smuggler.”

Carefully, I observed the mannerisms of each man who sat before me. Though their faces were concealed, I knew every detail about each of them. Their identity wasn’t the mystery. Mine was. So was our location and the meeting in session.

Within twenty minutes, which was the time it would take anyone to reach the address that wasn’t available on any mapping system or satellite, they’d be dismissed. However, they wouldn’t be the same men who sat down before me. They’d be a lot richer. A lot smarter. More valuable. Highly sought after. Fully protected.

“Nonetheless, I understand I cannot save the world or the people who have chosen those paths. So, making substances safer, grander, and extremely unique is my life’s work. What I have created can’t be duplicated, stepped on, or mistaken for anything else.

“I’ve curated one thousand eight hundred twenty-seven strands of the purest, rarest white on the market. I am not interested in or addicted to even one of them. Your clients, nevertheless, are. That is why you are here and that is why your budding empire needs me.”

Straightening my slightly misaligned posture, I relieved my spine and squared my shoulders. Taking one step at a time, I treaded the concrete flooring that had been cleaned a hundred times or more. Splattered brains and puddled blood were fed to the hard surface almost as much as forbidden food was spoon-fed to a baby who wasn’t quite ready to stomach solids, according to physicians.

“I am a Chemist. I am The Chemist.”

One by one, I removed the jute bags from the heads of three men. Immediately, visions of their scattered craniums flashed before my eyes. Exposed lobes appeared just as I began to wiggle through the creases of my own. Seconds passed us by until I was able to shake the thought of brain matter and dislodged hearts.

Thanks, Catherine.

Blinking away the bloodshed and tapping back into the moment, I continued my stride. Only this time, I was no longer in front of the men. I remained behind them, daring either of them to attempt to turn. The wrong movement could be their last.

“I am a single element that will take your business to heights you haven’t considered in the time my product can make it happen. If you’re here, it means you’ve passed every test and without a doubt in my mind, you belong here.

“Not because I said so but because two of the most important people in my life said so. I trust their word over my very own. Being here is not a privilege you should take lightly. It is an opportunity of a lifetime.”

Pausing briefly, I took a good look at the new squad. Each represented a few million in my account. Simultaneously, they could also represent the downfall of my empire. That was always the risk taken when recruiting, but we’d done the homework. Extensive homework. Everyone seated was legit.

“Underneath your chairs, you’ll find documentation with a few steps for you to execute to put the plan in motion. When you reach for your file, do not get curious. Turning around, at any point, could mean the end for you.”

Slowly, cautiously, each man reached underneath their seat to obtain the file that had been tailored to their hustle. A standard business model didn’t fit everyone who walked through my door, so we created a different one for each person according to their current revenue, location, customers, and proximity to danger.

I observed the trio intensely, keeping my eyes trained on their bodies as I studied their movements. To my dismay, I locked eyes with the man in the middle. Quickly, he turned his head in the opposite direction, but he wasn’t quick enough.

Disobeying orders was the quickest way to get buried in my line of business. He’d just tested the theory. Without a doubt, I knew it would be his last time testing anything. It was a fucking shame.

BLOW.

“Che–”

Expanded nostrils and a hiked eyebrow quieted her before she could complete her thought. I pushed forward, out of earshot, to address the woman staring at me with conflict.

“He turned,” I explained to one of the few people in my life I felt I owed an explanation.

She and six others who were almost identical were the only women in my world who could get a word, rise, or dime out of me.

Seven, the consuming voice in my head corrected.

Seven. The woman who’d birthed them couldn’t be forgotten.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, already calculating the time it would take her to clean the mess I’d made.

It wasn’t the task or my actions that had her biting her tongue and shaking her head. Those pretty eyes were remorseful. That pretty heart was hurting. Tilting my head, I smiled.

Oh, baby.

I swiped my nose with the back of my hand, still holding the hot tool as I did so.

“You’ll find another one.”

With a roll of her eyes, she nodded. The gnawing of her bottom lip was evidence of her flared emotions and tampered feelings. There was no place for them here.

“Pull it together.” I snapped two fingers.

She nodded again.

“I have.”

In an instant, Range was void of emotions and ready for the task ahead of her. Rolling the nigga she was fucking in a body bag wasn’t on her schedule this evening, but shit had changed.

“And, avoid fucking the help, baby, so you won’t have these types of problems.”

With the butt of the gun, I tapped her temple.

“Bosses. Bosses. Ummkay? Bosses. The biggest or no one at all, baby. The best or no one at all, baby. The b–”

“Okay.”

I’d tried countless times to program it in their heads. Certain niggas didn’t deserve their presence. The nigga sitting – that was sitting – before me was one of them.

Fucking a nigga on the rise was the quickest downfall of a woman who was already seated on her throne. I’d seen it too many times before. It was rare, very rare, a queen entertained a peasant and it turned out in her favor.

“Do better, baby.”

I left her where she stood, returning to the men who knew how to follow directions. Diverting my attention was not a smart move; neither was attempting to put a face to my voice. It was pointless because the second you became a liability was the last one you’d breathe.

“Personalized formulas have been distributed. Please remove the solution from the bag inside of the folder you retrieved.”

Carefully, each man removed the vial from the small bag before sealing it and closing the folder. I gave them time to observe the amber-colored glass that held the key to their future inside.

“Before your kilos are bricked and sold, increase your profits and its potency by incorporating this very strategically formulated solution. This will give you a safer strand that is undeniably solid, pure, and unique.”

Nods from the duo let me know they both understood exactly what was being explained.

“More instructions will come. Take it to the field. Track its performance. That will last you a full week. There’s no need to give us a call. We’ll always reach out to you. This meeting has concluded. Your vehicles are waiting.”

The brown fabric would cover their faces before they had a chance to identify much of anything or anyone in the empty space. However, I allowed them to stretch their legs and prepare for the journey ahead. Unfortunately, shaking the hand or looking in the eyes of the man who would be responsible for their rapid success still wasn’t an option.

“There are only two rules.”

Their bodies halted right in front of their chairs as if the music had stopped during a game of musical chairs.

“Keep your mouth closed and never… I mean never… cut my shit.”

Without another second wasted, I pushed through the double doors that led to more emptiness and light. The shell of a building had its purposes and comfort wasn’t one of them. I tossed the jute bags into the burning fire. New ones would be distributed. Those, however, carried identifying elements that were to be discarded.

“Pop.” A gentleness I was all too familiar with released with a sigh.

“Rome.”

Without readjusting my line of vision or position in front of the fire, I breathed the name of my youngest sibling. Though not much changed visibly, parts of me softened that only she had access to. And, my heart, the rate sped as it became increasingly heavy.

Fucking girls. I gritted.

They were reminders I did have a heart and that motherfucker was functional.

“What are you doing here?”

“My lesson was canceled. My profes–”

“That doesn’t answer my question, baby.”

“I–” she mumbled.

Head down. Hands in front of her. Fingers fondling each other. Eyes low. Heart heavy. I didn’t need to see Rome to feel Rome… to know Rome. She wore her big feelings on her sleeve, a trait I despised in humans. No one needed to know what you were feeling, what was on your heart that easily.

One should always have the right to choose what information others were privy to. Rome didn’t have that privilege. That was why she was the center of my world. Because we were so many years apart, she felt more like a child I shared with my father and stepmother than a sister.

“Rome.”

Turning, I found her standing behind me with weary eyes and anxious hands.

“I won’t beg you to express yourself.”

“I haven’t seen you in a few days and haven’t had the chance to tell you I’m auditioning for The Black–”

“Swan,” I finished.

“Of course, you already knew.” Sucking her teeth, she rolled those big, doe-like eyes that were mirrors to her soul.

“It’s my job to know, Rome. You’ve stayed late for the last week. I needed to know why.”

“You could’ve asked.”

“I didn’t think you were ready for me to know.”

“I wasn’t. In case I didn’t get the part.”

“That’s impossible.” I scoffed.

“Without your help.”

“I–”

“Or Royce’s.”

Chuckling, I nodded. “Okay, I get it, baby.”

“I’m serious, Pop. I don’t want any of you getting involved. I want to earn this.”

“You’ve earned everything you’ve been involved in, baby. I don’t understand.”

“Influence feels like the driving force behind some of the accolades in my life thus far.”

“I have never allowed my influence to serve your passion. Neither have I ever lied to you. So hear me very clearly when I tell you it has always been all you. You’re the best there is and will ever be.

“You’re a natural, baby. Accept it and never credit me for anything other than your discipline and determination. I’ve done nothing more than push you to heights that were always attainable for you, even when you didn’t believe it.”

“Thank you.”

The longing in her stare made my lips curl and my head shake from one side to the other. She was yearning for something–someone. It happened to be me. Physical touch was her greatest love language. It wasn’t mine.

I observed as her brows raised on her forehead. Dark skin covered every inch of her except the spot underneath her right arm where her mark of birth rested. With a round head and wondrous eyes, Rome was incredibly beautiful. She shared identical features with at least two of the women she shared blood with and called her sister.

“I’m leaving,” I announced.

Before I could fall victim to her antics, I pushed past her toward the door that would lead to the roof where a windy chopper was landing and waiting to airlift me to my next destination. I could feel the effects of the blades as I neared the exit. Just as I thought I’d managed to set myself free, umber-colored skin that resembled mine wrapped around me, stopping me in my tracks.

“Just accept it,” Rome demanded.

As cold as she portrayed herself in public, she was almost the warmest. Roaman, the oldest of the bunch, was the epitome of warmth. Her facade was easily tarnished when among the people she loved most. That was when her sleeves were covered with her true feelings, thoughts, desires, and emotions.

“Just accept it, Chem. Don’t fight it.”

The chuckle I harbored began to slip from my lips. Baby was full of love and containing it was too much of a task. She needed to release it every chance she had. Everyone in our circle had been victimized by her bullshit, but we’d dare dismiss her or avoid the very thing that gave us all something to look forward to.

“Are you done now?”

“Not quite.”

She squeezed tighter.

“It’s been days since I hugged you, Teddy.”

Pop. Teddy. Chem. She rotated the three without issue.

“I’d like to leave now,” I expressed.

Turning in her arms, I grabbed the sides of her face and lowered my lips to her forehead. I buried her face in my chest and released everything conflicting with me. Her hugs were healing.

“Okay. See you later?”

“You won’t, but I will see you after your audition to congratulate you on another job well done.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You don’t need it. Head up.”

Rome backed away as she nodded, understanding every word I’d spoken.

“I love you.” She sighed.

“In this lifetime and the others.”

Beyond this world’s realm, I had a heart for my people. My love wasn’t conditional. It was relentless and had no limits. In every lifetime, in every world, it was made for Roulette, Roaman, Rome, Rugger, Royce, Rather, Range, Malachi, Mercer, Milo, and Makai.

“I’ll find you there, too.”

“I’ll wait.”

With two fingers, I tapped my chest, finalizing my goodbye. With leaden steps, I ascended the stairs to reach the door where I exited and found a loud, obnoxious helicopter waiting.

“Chemist,” Jason acknowledged me with a head nod as the door of the chopper swung open.

A mirrored response sufficed as I climbed into the rather spacious pit and slid the headphones over my ears. Jason sat beside me, taking on the role of co-pilot after my split decision led my fingers across the motherboard. Waiting as I was airlifted across the city was the initial plan. That quickly changed.

Soundlessly, I began checking off tasks from the list, preparing the aircraft for takeoff. There wasn’t much that hadn’t already been done.

Within seconds we were back in the air, and I was turning out every anxious word Jason spat in order to take a second to admire the beauty of Clarke. It was nearly the largest city in Huffington. It was, most certainly, the wealthiest with Channing placing second.

Sixteen minutes later, I was whisked away from the noisy piece of machinery, cleaning the traces of uncleanliness from underneath my manicured nails as the tires rotated on the city’s paved roads. Once satisfied with my efforts, I gathered my eyelids and explored the folds of my mind.

The sound of crashing waves lulled me. The feeling of cold, aggressive waves pulling me deeper into the ocean’s arms caused my skin to grow thicker, producing small, fine bumps all over.

Patiently, I waited for the recurring vision to produce evidence it was real. Because it felt like it. But, just like every other time, nothing more than a few waves, evidence of excellent lung capacity, and commendable endurance revealed themselves.

The persistence of the darkness carried on until the vehicle came to a complete stop. The engine of the Escalade quieted. So did my mind.

“Chemist.” Aden beckoned for my attention.

“I’m aware.”

I separated my lids from one another, basking in the silence that preceded what was to come. Sunlight peered down into the backseat as the door widened, waiting to greet me, again. It wasn’t for long.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four swift steps led me into darkness again, freeing me from the brightness and risk of public consumption. It was two steps too many. The breezeway that led to the lecture hall was long, but not quite long enough. Exposure was forbidden under any circumstances to maintain the integrity of the quarterly meetings. Someone hadn’t gotten the memo.

Stretched legs pushed through the nippy space. I buttoned the single button of the finely pressed jacket Aden handed me as I stepped out of the vehicle. It was a perfect match for the pants that had been designed to complement it.

The vibration of my phone reminded me to silence my notifications. All calls would have to wait. What I was walking into was far more important than whatever was waiting to be divulged to me on the other line.

Fine, small bumps peaked at the expense of my smooth, unblemished skin as I turned the corner and entered the nearly empty room with only a table and three useless chairs.

No one was sitting and I wouldn’t be the first. Relaxing my limbs left too much at stake.

Slowed my movement tremendously. Gave me unnecessary resistance when releasing my weapon. And, adding two seconds too many to the escape route was always, always prepared in my head. Sitting was not an option. It was never an option.

Valentine. I nodded toward the host of the quarter.

Tension, as thick as a well-done steak at the finest steakhouse, thickened a bit more as my presence was added to the stirring pot.

There was no beef.

There was no competition.

There were no ill feelings.

There were only rules and regulations neither of the families within The Triad cared to abide by. But, to maintain peace and order within the city of Clarke, we had no choice.

If order was ever lost, empires would burn and so would the city we cherished. To evenly distribute the land so the three most powerful families could remain in control without bumping heads, The Triad of Ara was formed.

The first letter from the wives of the leaders” names was combined to identify the triad and solidify its presence in Clarke. Though ghostly in nature, there wasn’t a soul in the underbelly that didn’t know of its existence.

Ashland. The wife of Kalvin Valentine.

Rhea. My father’s wife, my stepmother.

Angela. The wife of Henry Baptiste.

“Four steps too many,” I informed.

“Noted,” Priest responded with a nod. “Pardon my–misalignment.”

“Shall we get down to business?” Honor cleared his throat, unable to stand still longer than a few seconds. The youngest of the bunch, his head was the hottest.

Situated in the back of the truck with the meeting behind me and a missed call from my father staring back at me, I contemplated dialing him back before allowing everything that transpired to register. It was business as usual, but the presence of a few cats from Perry had ruffled a few of The Triad’s feathers.

Nothing had come of their presence yet but could change at any given second. When it did, if it did, peace wouldn’t be possible in Clarke.

I’d comb every cranny to dead every nigga with a Perry stench so Rugger wouldn’t have to. Some shit was below her pay grade and Perry niggas were at the top of the list. Her attention was better elsewhere.

“Rhea,” with difficulty, I sputtered.

I expected my father’s baritone on the opposite end of the line. Her silky, feminine resolve caught me off guard.

“Yes, son.”

“I received a call from my father.”

“He’s been napping for a while now. By the time you arrive, he will be awake.”

“I didn’t insinuate my–”

“There aren’t many reasons he’d call, Chem. He’s requesting you.”

“Then, I’m en route.”

Wordlessly, I ended the call. The altering of direction made it clear Aden had gotten the memo and knew my father’s compound was the new destination.

Knots gathered in a central location, twisting my stomach to the point of discomfort. Coiled and contorted, it increased the saliva in the pit of my mouth.

Weekly, I shook my father’s hand and sat at his table. Often, I joined him on the golf course. Spring, early fall, and particular days in the summer when the weather permitted and the winds were low, our shoes treaded the artificial greenery for hours as our bellies grew hungry and we’d quenched our thirst a hundred times or more.

In forty-eight minutes, exactly, we arrived at the gates. Our entry was granted immediately. They were waiting. They always were.

A semi-loop around the fountain in the center of the estate led to the double doors of my family’s home. A perfectly manicured yard would impress his neighbors if they lived close enough or could see over the brick. My father valued his privacy. He didn’t care if anyone ever knew who was behind the walls he’d built, as long as he was living comfortably behind them, then all was well.

I entered the familiar space. The comfort that usually wrapped me in its arms was replaced with a cold stillness I quickly learned I wasn’t fond of. Nothing felt right. Everything was displaced.

I stopped, momentarily, hiking my nose in the air. There was a stench, a repulsive one that began to drain the blood from me without considering the failure of my organs, including the large one that was surrounded by vessels that kept me alive.

Death. It was potent. The smell of it was one I was far too familiar with to dismiss. Flared nostrils and a panged heart led me toward the dining hall where I could feel my father’s presence. It pulled me deeper into his home until I reached him.

Quickly repulsed, I slid my back teeth across each other, applying pressure. Naturally, my hands drew inward, fingers curling to accommodate my palms.

Unkempt.

Unwell.

Unrecognizable.

My father sat before me without the beaming smile one would miss if they blinked or the stern gaze he wore most often accompanying him. Confusion gripped me by the neck, threatening to end every single thing right then and there. I tugged the fabric around the button closest to the top.

Finally, once I’d freed the small, round piece of plastic, did I feel my lungs refill with oxygen. There wasn’t a day, not one, I recall seeing my father anything other than at his best.

The finest threads covered his body, daily. A gold tooth covered each tooth next to the largest in the front of his mouth. A toothpick rolled between them nearly every waking hour of his life.

Crisp.

Though one word, it described everything about him. Everything about his appearance.

Hairline.

Pant crease.

Shoes.

Jacket.

Coat.

Shirt.

Whip.