Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
Flowers in the Attic and a Fist Necklace
“Y ou’ve done well for yourself. I’m proud of you, Len.” Roman slapped his cousin Lennox on the back as he finished his tour of the remodeled fitness studio. Lennox and his wife, Nadia, had worked their butts off to get the place in tip-top shape. It was big, a state-of-the-art gym, and currently full of members.
“Thanks. I’ve put everything into this place.” Pride was written all across Lennox’s face. “Nadia is almost finished with law school, and we wanna start a family soon, so yeah, I have a lot to be thankful for.” Lennox said a few words to a guy who was working at the smoothie bar. Meanwhile, Roman checked out all of the trappings: an ice machine, sliced fresh fruit in containers inside a see-through refrigerator, and wicker bowls full of pineapples, apples, bananas, and more.
“You want somethin’ to drink? My favorite is the banana, avocado, spinach, and strawberry smoothie. You want one? Mixed berry is my second favorite.”
“Either is fine.” Roman crossed his arms, not feeling particularly picky about the matter. He’d come over on his lunch break and could use a snack to tide him over.
“Make him the B.A.S.S.” Less than a minute later, their small talk was interrupted by the employee handing Lennox the beverage to turn over to Roman. He tasted it.
“Mmm. This is good. Not bad at all.” He smacked his lips.
“Yeah, it’s incredible. Let’s step into my office.” Roman followed Lennox past a bunch of no neck bastards raising barbells over their sweaty heads to the tune of AC/DC’s, ‘Back in Black.’ Good song. When the office door closed, he could hear the music go up almost immediately. Lennox laughed as he slumped in his leather office chair. “Soon as the boss goes away, the boys will play.”
Roman sat across from him. “Feels good to be a boss, doesn’t it?”
“Feels fucking fantastic.” Lennox picked up an enormous blue plastic water bottle that was sitting on his desk and chugged it. “So, fill me in, man.”
Roman placed his smoothie on Lennox’s desk, slipped a gold cigar holder from the inside pocket of his black suit jacket, and pulled out two. Lighting them, he then handed one to his cousin. Lennox dug around in his trash, pulled out a partially crushed soda can, and set it on his desk to serve as an ashtray. Their communal smoke filled the room as each man puffed away like a dragon… Twin flames.
Roman got started and slowed once he arrived at the grand finale of the tale.
“…And that same day that he had those motherfuckers abduct us, bring us to his house and hand us those agreements is the same day that those sons of bitches were in my house, figuring out the combination to my safe. Do you know how skilled you have to be to get into my safe?”
“Well, I’m sure it’s a complicated combination and—”
“I have it set up so that it requires three codes just to get the first door open.” He held up three fingers, wanting this point to be perfectly clear. “Then there’s a second door in the safe that requires two codes that have to be entered within twelve seconds, or it reverts, starting over. If you push in the wrong code twice, it locks up for six hours. If you fuck it up again, it locks up for forty-eight hours. If you mess it up a third time, you’re shit out of luck. You can’t use magnets or any of these fancy gadgets that crooks use to bypass all of that. Grandpa must’ve got someone that spent their whole damn life perfecting this, because he was ready in advance for my ass.” He tsked mirthlessly as ‘Sandman,’ by Metallica played in the background.
“Okay, so what was in the book?”
They hooked gazes through the gray haze as the music thumped within his veins.
Roman leaned back in the chair, dabbed his cigar ashes in the crushed energy drink can sitting near his smoothie. He massaged his temples, and decided to go ahead and spill the complete pot of beans. “My plan for world domination…”
“Come on, Roman! I’m serious.”
“And so am I. It was my world that I was tryna get control of.” Lennox shot him a perplexed look. “I know how to count cards… I did it in a casino in Vegas.”
“Okay, that’s not surprisin’ since it’s you that we’re talking about, and counting cards is frowned upon, but not illegal.”
“Right.” Roman tossed his cigar ashes inside the can. Outside the office window that gave a view of the parking lot, he saw the sky was overcast. Something dark loomed above them, growing. “I can count cards, and I’ve done so often. Blackjack. I can play most card games well, poker and blackjack being my specialties. I needed some money. Some real money.” He swept his hair out of his face, then took another drag of his cigar. “Not that two or three grand I was used to gettin’ on a good gambling day. So, I came up with a plan. I put all of my card game skills to work. I used my abilities such as my communication skills, magic tricks, and everything that I could to my advantage.”
“I remember you showin’ us magic tricks as kids. You were good. Real good. Even way back then. Didn’t Uncle Reeves teach you that shit?”
“Yup. He was a damn good thief and entertained his kids with the art of illusion for fun. We ain’t have no money to go to the movie theater or bowling alley. So, mama popped popcorn, made a big pitcher of punch, and baked cookies, and we sat around watchin’ Daddy do all kinds of cool shit in our own living room for free. As far as the casino situation though, people never saw it comin’. I used all the illusions in the book, and nobody saw shit, Lennox. Trust me. They tried. In these casinos, not only are there cameras everywhere, but there’s also moles, and of course the big guys watchin’ the tables from the back rooms.”
“Man, I don’t play poker or blackjack or any of that shit. Tell me what you did like you’re speakin’ to a ten-year-old.”
“This particular night, I played both games. I was able to match the dealer’s deck with my own. I had been studying this guy’s table for months.”
“How in the hell did you do that?”
“You’d have to see it to get the full gist, but basically, it’s a sleight of hand. I kept the cards I wanted in my sleeve. I knew what deck he was usin’, and I made sure I had it. The way I keep it in my sleeve though isn’t how most magicians do. My way is seamless. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can see it but me. I have practiced that one trick for years. Switched it out for a winnin’ hand. Now, the key was, I jumped from game to game, table to table. I pretended to be just havin’ a casual, good time. Typically, the cheaters will stay at one table, two max. They want to be somewhere they’re comfortable being. I didn’t do that. I’d even leave for a little while, eat or drink, take in a show, then come back.
“I was even intentionally losing some games on purpose so that I blended in even better. With my ability to count almost any cards, being perceptive, and pure desperation and determination, I made it happen. I walked into that casino with exactly ninety-eight dollars that I borrowed from some woman I’d been casually seeing. I turned it into three million in just a few hours.”
“Damn!”
“Exactly. I knew if I got caught, it would be over for me, so, it was scary, I’m not going to even lie, but at the time I felt that I had to do what I had to do. The next day, I gave that lady her money back, with interest. She didn’t know how much money I’d made at that casino—I didn’t tell anyone. I was asked to leave, or I probably would’ve made more. They do that when they can’t figure out how you keep winning, and they want you to go away.” Lennox gave a hearty belly laugh. “I got up and went home to my little shitty apartment. I immediately paid off all of my debts. I took care of some things for my mama, too. Helped my brothers out. My father at that moment was M.I.A. Found out later he was in a rehabilitation center and not allowed visitors. Court mandated. Anyway, still didn’t tell anyone about my windfall. Just pretended I had found a good side gig.
“After all the business was taken care of, I had a little fun. Bought a house, then flipped it. Made a big profit. I did that a few more times. A couple of new cars. Drank expensive liquor. Fucked beautiful, money-hungry women. Lived my best life. After a while, the thrill waned, and I got serious again. With the big dreams I had, I needed a good job. Nobody was going to take a guy who got kicked out of the Marines, had been damn near homeless, was a juvenile delinquent, and had no college degree seriously. Three million dollars starts dreams in this economy. It doesn’t keep those dreams coming indefinitely.”
“Oh, for sure. I get it.” Lennox took a toke of his cigar, then extinguished it.
“So, I enrolled in college, as you know, started an internship, got permanently hired, and flew up the ranks. This is my callin’. If there’s a dollar sign in front of it, I got you covered. The rest is history.”
Lennox lowered his head, his thoughts undoubtedly whirling.
“Diabolical but brilliant plan, Roman. You know you don’t have to worry about me squealin’ on you. That said, why in the hell would you write that down?”
Roman sighed. “I needed to keep myself in check. I needed a record of what I had done, to keep it fresh in my mind. I never wanted to be in that position in life again, where I was literally risking my freedom to pay bills. Where I had to cheat to get right. I also wrote it down because that’s not the only thing in that book… it was just one of many stories. I… I had been writing in that book for years. It was all of my plans. Ideas. My father gave me that book to write in when I went off to the Marines. I was supposed to write a letter every week to him and my mother. Tear a page from it and send it home.
“I did that for a short while, but then, turned it into a journal. I had nobody to talk to. I trusted no one, Lennox.” His cousin nodded in understanding. “All of this rage. This sadness. This confusion… This frustration. It had to come out somehow, some way. That journal was my therapist. She—yeah, I call the book a she—saved my life. I would look back at how far I’d come, man. I’d read about my mindset years prior and see the growth. When I would tell myself that I wasn’t shit… that I wasn’t good enough… that I wasn’t going to make it or be anything in life, I’d pick up that journal, and I’d read from years back…” He paused, swallowing his emotions.
“…I’d see me livin’ in my car. The words on the page took me right back there, Lennox. At the time, I was too prideful to ask my mother if I could sleep at her house. After I got out of the Marines, my life was a nightmare. A big depressing loop of despair. I wrote it all down. I’d re-read that book, and I saw the times I’d strike out at people… how long I’d keep a grudge. Hold on to rage. Some things I never got over. People I trusted who betrayed me… people I should have trusted, I didn’t, and kept out of my life. Some people shouldn’t have trusted me, either. That journal kept me in check. I could see in that book where I had gone wrong and learned from my mistakes.
“It kept me on level ground. I hadn’t written in it in a couple of years, there’s only a few blank pages left, but it’s main purpose now, was just for me to reflect. I had just looked in it about a day or two before it was stolen. If my home was on fire, I’d take my cash I keep on hand, and that book, Lennox. That’s how much it means to me. And then… Grandpa got a hold of it.” Bile rose in his throat. Strawberries and bananas kept repeating like a song on a radio.
“Too bad he’s not illiterate.” Lennox joked.
“I’m not an open person. I’m not like you… I keep secrets, but I could be honest in that book, Lennox. Now he knows what makes me tick. He knows my vices. He knows the things I’ve done and what I think about those things. He knows my failures. My insecurities. My pain. It’s like giving the Devil a list of everything you’re allergic to but hopin’ he doesn’t use it against you.” His jaw clenched. “Trust and believe, Grandpa now has the keys to destroy me. That book is his evidence. My fingerprints are all over it. It’s my handwriting. People over the years have probably seen me writin’ in it. And he knows how to submit it to the right people, so I could end up with a few felonies for other shit I’ve done over the years, millions of dollars owed in restitution, and behind bars for Lord knows how long, maybe even for the rest of my life, if they stack the individual charges.”
“Shit. Fuck!” Lennox closed his eyes and shook his head. “So now he can hold this over your head. He’s doing the same thing to you that he did to me, only he went about it a different way. Mine was the long game. With you, he’s adjusting as new information comes in. What about a statute of limitations? I mean, I’m no lawyer like my wife, but it’s worth asking.”
“That’s a great question, and I looked into that. It’s been way past four years. That’s the statute of limitations in Las Vegas. Now, you’d think that would mean this was over and done with, and that grandpa doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Wrong. They can’t prosecute, but it could still impact my job if they found out. In fact, I guarantee that it would.” Lennox nodded in understanding. “You can’t be a broker, analyst or Associate at Goldman Sachs, period, havin’ been accused of any federal crimes, especially those dealing with mismanagement of funds, or theft. Now sure, it would be illegal to fire me without a conviction, but my reputation would be trashed, and in this business, your reputation and track record is half the battle. Clients would drop me so fast it would make your head spin. Bottom line? I’ve got to get that book back. Without it, it’s his word against mine.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“Well, first I need to figure out where that fucking piece of vintage dirt has hidden it. I’ve been wracking my brains on how to get that information. Just like he told me he knew that whatever filth he’d get on me would be well hidden, the same would be the case with where he put my shit.”
“Grandpa isn’t stupid, Roman. He knows you well enough to understand that you won’t just do whatever he says. He’s going to make you beg for it, and then he’ll have you.”
“I’m not beggin’ a motherfucker for shit. Especially not him. He thinks my greed for money and control will cause me to fail. My greed for the new life I’ve created for myself, through blood, sweat and tears. He believes I’ll sell out to stay on top of the mountain.”
“Well, I know you have to handle this for yourself, or you won’t be free from the blood contract he’s bonded us in, but I’m willin’ to help, just like you and Kage helped me. I did the work, and y’all helped create a fence of protection. I extend the same to you. You just let me know when and how.”
Roman nodded as he rotated the ring on his right middle finger. A gold ram with ruby eyes. “He should’ve never fucked with me and taken my shit. I’ve had fantasies of shooting him in his damn mouth or rippin’ his tongue out, so we never have to hear him threaten anyone again.”
“I’m sure you’re not the only one.” Lennox sighed. “He’d just write his threats down.” They both chuckled at that.
“Grandpa thinks I’m this silly clown who goes around with sticky fingers, crunchin’ numbers, watching trends, crackin’ jokes, dressing in nice suits and smiling with investors at luncheons in five-star restaurants… Nah, I’m somethin’ to be concerned about. I’m somebody else behind closed doors. I’m a motherfuckin’ problem.” Lennox’s eyes fixed on him, and he smirked. He knew it was true. What was understood didn’t need to be explained. Roman took a deep breath.
“So, to finish what I was clarifying, the deranged religious zealot sent a revised contract yesterday. See, when he initially kidnapped all of us, he didn’t have anything on me yet, so he left the punishment for my so-called treasonous ways vague. After the abduction, and when he obtained that journal from a raid in my home, it was a whole new ball game. I didn’t admit to it when he brought it to my attention, and I didn’t deny it, either. If he wants to play ball, we can play ball. He chose to fuck with me, and it’s going to be one of his greatest regrets. He got me falsely arrested, caused me to have a fight with some caveman, had some weird fucker followin’ me while I was out on a date, and now this. He’s showing his hand. He knows verbal threats don’t move me. Insults about me and my family change nothin’, either. I simply don’t give a fuck, and that drives him crazy—but this? This he knows is a sword he can swing, and it won’t miss.” He slurped the last of of his gifted beverage.
“All because he wants to use you to help keep money flowin’ through the pipeline. He wants you to put your career at risk to help him invest, by cheating and stealing from your own clients. That’s insane.”
“To him it makes perfect sense. In his world, family comes before everything. Blood is best, even if that blood is tainted and rotten.” Roman stood to his feet and Lennox followed suit. “I have to head out. Thanks for the smoothie and givin’ me a few minutes of your time.”
Lennox rounded his desk and wrapped his arms around him, taking Roman a bit off guard. “Let me walk you out.”
“No, I got it. I’ll be in touch.”
They saluted one another, then Roman headed out the door.
A few days later…
Two onyx beads were left for the necklace. The tips of Genesis’ fingers grew sore and red as she’d worked practically all night fulfilling an influx of orders at her long dinette table. Ever since her website went live, things had gotten hectic. Roman had put her in touch with a small business marketing manager, and now, here she was.
A clear pot of lavender tea sat to her left, her cup nearly empty, and assorted beads, jewels, scissors, pliers, glues and the like to her right. Chipped mauve fingernail polish covered her nails, driving her crazy, but what could she do? She was in the zone.
Gotts Street Park’s ‘Tell Me Why,’ featuring Olive Jones, played from her iPad. She looked at the time on her watch. Damn. It’s almost 10 PM. She recalled she hadn’t gotten her mail, and figured it was a good time for a break anyway. Grabbing her door keys, she headed out of her apartment. Down to the cluster boxes she walked, humming a tune in her head. She opened her mailbox, pulled out a fistful of junk mail, then returned to her abode. As soon as she reached her front door to go inside, her neighbor, Charlie, popped her head out. A thick fog of cigarette smoke followed her, along with the odor of fried chicken. The sounds of Lil Jon and The East Side Boyz’, ‘Play No Games’, featuring JoeyCrackTS, Trick Daddy and Oobie, were drifting out of the woman’s apartment.
Genesis immediately stuck her tongue out of her mouth and began hopping around, bopping about, and dancing in sync to the music. That was the club jam back in the day. “Hey, Ms. Charlie! How are you?”
“Biiiitch! You know I’m good!” Charlie laughed in that croaky, smoke-and-whiskey-coated voice of hers. “You’re glowin’, girl! You musta gotta hold of some good dick, strong weed, and long money!”
Genesis burst out laughing. “Life has been good, Ms. Charlie.”
“I saw dat pretty White boy crawlin’ ’round here the otha night. In fact, he been here a few times.” Her cigarette had a long log of ash hanging at the end of it. “Whooo weee! His car was cleeeean! He must have money! MONEY! Get it all for him! Lookin’ like that wolf boy from dem Twilight movies! He had pretty eyes, too. Dimples ’nd shit. Sexy man! Is he Italian? He look Italian!”
“I don’t think so. He said his great-grandmother on his father’s side I think was Native American, though.”
“Well, whatever he is, he is sexy! Too damn pretty! Whew! He a tall mothafucka, too! I would climb him like he was Magic Mountain, girl. I might be gettin’ old, but this thang still can grip! I got that snapper!”
Ms. Charlie started moving her pelvis as if she was the main attraction in some peep show. Genesis leaned against her door, laughing so hard, she almost dropped her mail. I see Ms. Charlie has been drinking again tonight…
The older woman danced about, making her reddish-brown hair full of curlers shake and roll as she fell into a fit of giggles. “Now, I ain’t one to get in folks’ business, but I was intrigued, so I turned my music down the other day and heard him knockin’ that pussy out the frame and takin’ you on a one-way trip to pound town! Y’all was smashin’ pissers like a mothafucka!”
“Ms. Charlie!”
“Ms. Charlie nothin’! I should have filed obscenity charges and a noise complaint,” the woman teased. “I might be sixty-four years old, but I’m young at heart, and let me tell you something…” The woman came further out her door and brought it up as if she was sharing some top secret. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with gettin’ with a White boy.” She looked at her real serious like. “I know all this political shit going on in this country got us at each other’s throats, but at the end of the day, it’s stupid. No rhyme or reason. People are people. We all bleed red. God made man in his image, honey, and skin color ain’t have shit to do with it.”
“Amen.”
“I tell you what.” Ms. Charlie pointed her long, clawlike, light pink painted nail at her. “My daughter, Candice… you remember Candice, right? She moved to Oklahoma.”
It took everything in Genesis’ power to not burst out laughing. She couldn’t help but think of when Roman had said her vagina was going to travel to that very same state.
“Oh yes, I remember Candice.”
“Well, she come ’round here wit’ a White man a few years back. They was engaged, and now they’re married and divorced, but that ain’t the point. Mr. Gregory round the way, you know he’s a minister, he was walking past and saw them hugging. Few minutes later, he knocked on my door like the damn police. Candice opened it, and he ain’t say, ‘Hello, you weird bitch,’ or nothin’! No greeting, just rudeness at stage one! He just got to ranting and ravin’. He was waving his Bible and talkin’ ’bout, “ONLY THE BLACK MAN CAN UNDERSTAND THE BLACK WOMAN, AND ONLY THE BLACK WOMAN CAN UNDERSTAND THE BLACK MAN!” I heard him giving my chil’ the business, so I stepped to the door. Asked him what the hell he wanted. He come lookin’ me dead in the face, ol’ fish-eyed fool, and say, “GAWD TOLD ME TO TELL YOU, THAT YOUR DAUGHTER AIN’T SUPPOSED TO BE WITH THAT MAN!”
“I told him, ‘Shut yo’ lyin’ ass mouth, God ain’t tell you to tell me shit!’” Genesis was shaking. She placed her hand over her mouth but burst out laughing anyway. “Girl, this the same man that was playin’ wit’ himself all out in the open, and stole bingo money from them Catholics at that hall, too. Henrietta, that White lady who works at the bus company, told me that he offered to eat her ass. See? These men full of shit. He come to my door with his Bible tryna chastise my child, but when it comes to him and his own needs, well, race be damned. My Candice kissin’ her White man at the time made him mad as hell, but him, with his big black self, eatin’ that White woman’s ass was heaven sent and blessed by the Lord, I suppose. Buncha hypocrites. The only thing God told him to do was shut the fuck up.”
“Ms. Charlie, you are too much!”
The woman guffawed and put her hand on her hip.
“I won’t hold you, chile. I know you have thangs to do. Let me know if you need anything, baby.”
“I will, Ms. Charlie.”
The woman always ended their conversations the same way. How sweet. Sometimes Genesis would come home to food waiting for her at her front door. Ms. Charlie had been divorced for over twenty years and was a retired restaurant manager. She lived on a fixed income but was generous to a fault.
They said their goodbyes, and Genesis walked in her apartment, locking the door behind her. As she placed her mail down on her coffee table, her stomach growled. I need a break. Making her way to the kitchen, she opened her refrigerator but didn’t see anything that struck her fancy. Then she remembered the leftover ice-cream she’d had from when Roman had stopped by the other day…
Roman had arrived at her door with a button-down white shirt. It hung partially open, exposing a delicate silver chain around his neck. He smelled like sugar moons and honeyed stars. His black hair was slightly damp, and he apologized for being nine minutes late. “The Chinese place took a bit too long.” He shook the enticing greasy bag, a devilish look in his eyes. Giving him a big hug and kiss, she welcomed him inside. They proceeded to gobble up the Vegetable Egg Rolls, Crab Rangoon, Chicken Pad Thai, Pork Fried Rice, Beef and Broccoli, and he’d picked up her favorite ice cream for dessert: Rocky Road.
After that, they watched the movie, ‘The Piano Lesson,’ and it wasn’t long before they were naked on her couch, kissing and touching one another all over… sticky with ice cream, pussy juice and cum…
Her phone rang, snapping her out of her daydream. She blinked several times and realized that the freezer door was just hanging open. She grabbed the ice cream and a spoon, and ran to her makeshift workstation.
“Hey! I was just thinkin’ about you.” She could hear noise all around him. People talking and classy music. “Are you still at that dinner?” Roman had an important business meeting in the Woodlands.
“Yeah. I just stepped away for a second. I miss you.”
Her chest warmed. She plopped down at the table, ice cream in hand. “I miss you, too.” She peeled off the lid and slipped her spoon in the sweet, cool treat.
“Roman! You crazy guy, get in here! You’re missing Peter’s story about his trip to Brazil!” some guy yelled in the background, sounding a bit silly and intoxicated.
“Oh, really? Well, goodness! I can’t miss that, now can I?! I’ll be right there, Steve…” She chuckled at how he quickly put on his serious, professional voice, sounding so different. “Look under your couch. There’s something for you. I have to go, baby. I’ll talk with you later.”
“Okay. The couch, you said?”
But he ended the call without further explanation. She sat there for a moment, eating her ice cream, gazing over to her couch. Placing the dessert down, she walked over to it and dropped down onto the floor, on all fours, to peer under it. It took her a while to spot a white box.
Slipping her hand under the couch, she pulled it out and swiped away a thin film of dust. She sat on the couch and removed the white ribbon, then opened the box and took out the soft white tissue paper. Inside was a framed glass shadow box of dried flowers that spelled out her name.
She touched her lower lip as her eyes moistened. She’d told him several phone conversations prior that she loved dried flowers and used to hate her name when she was a kid, but now she liked it. He’d said he loved her name. With this gift, he’d linked the two bits of information together and created something beautiful.
A folded letter sat in the box—so nondescript that she’d initially missed it. Lola Young’s, ‘Big Brown Eyes,’ played as she unfolded the gray piece of stationary paper. It read:
Your name should be written in bright lights, but for now, dried flowers will do. If you’re reading this, it means you found the present, or I told you where it was. Either way, I want you to have this gift. If you ever feel down, look at it and remember you’re the shit.
Roman
P.S. I licked you. That makes you mine now.