Chapter 20 Villain
Villain
The fire crackles low in front of me, smoke drifting upward into the night.
I toss an empty wrapper into the flames and watch them eat away at the material.
The smell is sharp and familiar now. Part of the nightly routine.
Behind me, Ari moves around quietly, checking through the suitcase, counting what we have left.
“How we lookin’?” I ask, tossing another wrapper in the fire.
She glances up at me. “You want the positive version, or the realistic one?”
“Ummmmm…” I think about it like a waiter just asked if I want my drink neat or on the rocks. “You know what? I’m feeling good tonight. Give me both.”
“Well, the positive is that we have plenty of food and water to get us through tomorrow.”
“Cool.”
“The realistic is that we’ll probably be very, very hungry next week.”
I nod slowly, watching the fire lick the edges of the last wrapper.
My eyes find her again, and I notice it—her body’s already changing.
She’s in a plain white t-shirt and grey boy shorts, and I see it.
She’s losing weight. My first instinct is to say something, but I stop myself, because you never really know how a black woman will take a comment about that.
I’ve seen women take that shit real hard.
I ain’t riskin’ it.
Besides, she’s fine as fuck either way.
When she finally settles on the blanket, I stare at her. Bare legs stretched out, hair all wild and free, a little lip gloss shining on her mouth. She’s so fuckin’ sexy, and without even trying. My mouth runs away from me before my brain can catch up.
“Aye,” I grin, “you feelin’ lonely right now?”
Her eyes narrow slightly, her smile small and tight. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”
“What you mean?”
“I shared something personal with you, Villain. And instead of actually listening and understanding, you just turn it into a joke. You use it to tease me.”
Anger flares, and I open my mouth to fire back and defend myself, but something stops the reflex.
She’s right.
Shemari be on me about that, too. Well, she just tells me I play too fuckin’ much, but she never really explains it. She just cusses my ass out, then we argue, then we fuck. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But sitting here looking at Ari, hearing her say that shit plainly, I feel shame about it.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”
She nods once, but I can still see it in her eyes. It hurt her feelings. And I wanna fix it. I wanna do something to smooth out the rough edge of my words.
“Can I…wash your hair tomorrow?” I ask.
Her brows lift a little, then her face goes back hard again. “I’ll think about it.”
“You got shampoo?”
“I have body wash,” she says, her eyes locked on the flames. “And leave-in conditioner.”
“That’ll work,” I say. “But your hair is beautiful just like that.”
She hesitates before answering like the words are too expensive to say. She finally croaks out, “Thanks,” but she didn’t want to. That’s clear.
The fire snaps, throwing glowing embers in the air like confetti. I take a deep breath and try again.
“What’s something you would want people to know about you? Something old boy never bothered to ask you?”
That softens her a little. She leans back on her hands, moving her feet from side to side. “This isn’t really anything profound or deep. But, like, he doesn’t know what I like to do sometimes when I’m at home by myself.”
I lean in a little.
“I like to eat boneless chocolate chip cookies and watch true crime.”
“Boneless, what?”
She chuckles. “Like when you bake cookies just enough that the edges are crispy, but the middle is still kinda doughy.”
“Okay. I know what that is,” I say. “I ain’t never heard nobody call it that, though.”
She shrugs.
“True crime, huh? Fuck. You gon’ murder me in my sleep, ain’t you?”
Her lips twitch, but she holds it together.
So I keep going.
“How would you do it? Gun? Knife? Antifreeze?”
Now, she’s smiling as she points to me. “You watch them, too, don’t you?”
“Hell, nah.”
“Yes, you do!” She’s laughing now. “There’s no way you just happen to know about women using antifreeze.”
“Alright, I may or may not have been in the room with my auntie before when she was watching them. Snapped. That’s the one she like.”
“I knew it,” she says, her smile triumphant.
“While we’re on this, what’s the deal with y'all and true crime? Every female I know—“
“Woman.”
“Huh?”
She looks me in my eyes. “Don’t say female to me. Say woman.”
I spread my hands, palms up. “What the fuck for?”
“It’s dehumanizing. A female can be anything. Female dog. Female horse. Even a plug can be female.”
“Yo, you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” she says. “Which I coincidentally know how to make a murder appear to be, so don’t play with me.”
Now I’m smiling. “Yes, ma’am. Every woman I know watches. What’s the deal with that?”
She nods once. “I actually looked it up. A psychologist said a lot of women love true crime because it gives us a sense of control. Like, studying the thing we fear the most makes it a little less terrifying. We get to feel like we’re in charge of it, even though we’re not.”
I nod. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense, especially for you.”
Her head tilts. “What does that mean?”
“You like being in control. It’s obvious.”
“So?” She shrugs. “Capable people should be in control.”
“Do you control your relationship with old boy?”
She doesn’t answer. She don’t have to, though. Her silence tells me everything.
That’s the reason she freaked out about the storm and the snake. Two small things that weren’t really anything. She cracked because she couldn’t control what was happening. Only reason she didn’t freak out on the plane is because she was in work mode, and that was still under her control.
Out here?
We ain’t runnin’ shit.
And that’s hard for her.
“What about you?” she says suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I smirk. “Now you know good and well I wear the pants.”
She smiles knowingly, but my smile fades quick.
Because hearing the words come out my mouth got me thinking now.
“Truth is…I don’t even know if that shit is real,” I say.
“Like, the respect I get, is it because of who I am? Is it cuz I’m capable, or is it just because I’m the one with all the money? ”
She stops smiling, furrowing her brow, listening intently.
“I can’t lie, it’s been a few times that, way in the back of my mind, I wondered if the money wasn’t there…if I wasn’t Villain…would anybody stick around? Would they listen? Would they give a fuck?” I stare at the flames. “But it’s whatever.”
“It bothers you,” she says gently.
I shrug, not trusting myself to answer.
She sighs, pushing to her feet. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and go to bed.”
She takes a few steps, then pauses, glancing back. “And you can wash my hair tomorrow.”
I grin. A warm feeling washes over me, and I don’t even try to hide how happy I am.
“Looking forward to it.”