41. I’d Rather Go Blind
i’d rather go blind
César
W hen I reach for the doorknob, I hear sobs on the other side of the door. I turn the knob quickly and find her staring back at me with fire in her eyes, unlike I have ever seen.
“Close the door behind you,” she says, far more calmly than what her expression conveys.
“What hap?—”
“Close the door. Please,” she interjects, her tone heavy with irritation.
“Okay,” I resign, shutting the door, waiting for the click to sound before this conversation continues. “Who upset you? I swear.”
“What do you swear, Scar ?” she prods.
I jerk my head back in confusion “? Què? We’re back to ‘Scar’ now?” I ask.
”Mmhm. ’Cause you’re a fucking liar,” she hisses.
“ Where is this coming from?”
“You’re a PI for the Hales? I need to hear you say it. You either are or you’re not.”
This is exactly what I feared.
“I am a private investigator, and they’re one of my many clients.”
“And?” she bites back, staring expectantly for me to hurry up.
“They hired me a few months ago to surveil you,” I finally admit.
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Wrong number, my ass. How long did you watch me before sending that text?”
“Two weeks,” I say in a hushed tone.
She scoffs. “I was that easy. Took the bait from a fucking album. I feel so stupid. Is César even your real name?”
Why would she believe anything I’ve said now?
“Yes. Cèsar is my real name, and it wasn’t like that. I sent that message because I wanted to know you . Deirdre, you have to believe me.” I take a deep breath. “Everything I told you about myself is true, except my job. I never intended to hurt you, I promise.”
“What you intended to do doesn’t matter to my family. I think you know that too. Regina will kill you because I won’t. You need to leave. Now,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Red-rimmed eyes and unshed tears stare holes through me. I did that to her. Fuck.
My stomach sinks at her words. How could I promise to protect her when she wasn’t even safe from me? At this point, it’s not death that I’m afraid of, it’s losing her.
“I’m trying not to raise my voice to alarm them. I know this is just a job for you, but it was real for me,” she mumbles under the weight of her tears.
“It isn’t just a job.“ I sigh, wishing I could explain why I took the case, but that won’t make this any better.
It stopped being about the job a long time ago.
“That night I let you stay over. You told them, didn’t you? I hope you had a good laugh and whatever they’re paying is worth it,” she grinds out, finding her righteous anger again.
Say something.
“I didn’t betray you, I protected you from them,” I say weakly.
I would rather give all the money back than spend another day without her, and that terrifies me.
“Tell them you did your job. ’Cause I don’t want that fucking property if this is what they’d stoop to for it.
I’ll call my agent tomorrow to concede. Those motherfuckers can have whatever they want as long they leave me and Divin alone.
We were here first and will remain, regardless of the games they play. ”
As I study her heels pacing the hardwood, I war with myself the need to hold her. To reassure her. Touch won’t suffice and words won’t heal the pain I’ve caused.
“Have they ever told you they don’t want that property? They just don’t want me to have it. You know why that is? Hmm?” She pauses, leaning against her desk waiting for a response I don’t have.
“Do you know why I need that property? So I can make sure my kids can have a choice between being in in the fucking mob or not. That good enough for you?”
They’ve never said they don’t want the property in front of me, but didn’t have to tell me. Their concerns with Deirdre and Regina are because they’re successful Black women—that’s painfully obvious.
“I am a Klarke. My family prides themselves on not being seen as ‘the good Black folks,’ because there’s no such thing,” she says, putting emphasis on her words.
“They fear us all, but we give them something to be afraid of. People like you and I are expendable to people like them . It doesn’t matter how much harder we work, they still feel we’re undeserving.
“At least Theo Hale appeared to be a decent guy from what I hear, who actually knew the business. Dax is going to get himself killed, so I suggest you find a new employer.”
She isn’t wrong.
She continues, “I’m not letting white people piss on my dreams. Never have, never will.
I’ve made it this far, and I’ll be damned if I walk away.
Whatever they’ve got planned is no match for me.
I will honor my ancestors by behaving exactly how a Klarke should.
That’s what I want you to tell them. You can leave now. ”
I will , but I don’t say that.
I drink her in for what may be the last time, committing her to memory. She deserves to feel seen, and I saw her. I can’t say that I wasn’t warned about Deirdre Klarke. Loving her is dangerous, there was bloodshed, and I may as well be dead because I stole her light.
“I’m sorry, Doe. You have to know that I am so sorry,” I choke out over my own unshed tears.
“Just go. Please,” she croaks.
I said I wouldn’t go anywhere unless she asked me to, and I’ve gotta respect her wishes.
“And Scar?”
“Yeah?”
“I was falling for you,” she sobs, making it ever harder to walk away.
My heart contorts at her admission. It serves as a painful reminder, reassurance, and the final nail in my coffin. If I say it back, I’d be telling the truth, but she won’t believe me, so I nod.
Me too , mi beba . Me too.
I exit the party with my head held high, and it isn’t until I get to my truck that a tear falls. Then another and another. On the ride home, I pass Regina on the road, she honks her horn and smiles, waving with a lit cigarette tucked between her fingers.
For a second, I lock eyes with undoubtedly the scariest woman alive and return the wave.
“Dax is going to get himself killed , so you should find a new employer” rings in my mind the entire ride home. That’s why I contacted Emiliano for help. If anybody can save my ass, it’s him.