Chapter 27 Mehar
Mehar
After the men left, Zainab and I cooked for everyone. We stuffed salmon with crab meat, pan-seared some broccolini and made garlicky mash potatoes. Cooking helped us get our minds off of Serenity for a bit while those brothers made sure they brought her home.
It felt good to be amongst them because I’d been running around so much the last few months that I hadn’t had a chance to really connect with my sister or the rest of the family.
We all sat around the table and ate. Justice’s girls, Zainab and her babies, Yusef, and Grandma Rita. And I felt a bit more at home. Shortly after dinner, we all dispersed into different pockets of Rita’s vast abode. Yusef and I stuck together.
“I started writing my own music,” Yusef announced proudly as we sat at Rita’s kitchen table doing homework.
“What genre?” I asked.
“Oh, he writes a little bit of everything. Jazz, classical, R&B,” Rita chimed in from her chair in the living room. That woman had the ears of a bat. She wasn’t even in the room and she heard every word.
“Sometimes Prime joins in on his guitar,” Yusef added.
“I forgot Prime plays the guitar,” I laughed.
“It’s easy to do with all his other activities,” she said from around the corner.
I laughed and looked across the table at my nephew. He was thirteen now, all elbows and concentration, hunched over a geometry worksheet. He looked more like Zahara and Zainab every year. Same eyes and smile. Sometimes when he laughed, I had to look away because the resemblance hurt.
“I’m proud of you, Yu. You’re doing amazing.” I reached across and squeezed his hand. “I gotta come around more.”
“Yeah, I miss you a lot. I know you’ve been busy with school.”
“That’s no excuse. I’ll be at your next recital. Front row.”
A smile stretched across his face and then dropped just as quick. He looked down at his worksheet and pushed his pencil around without writing anything.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Is Serenity gonna be okay?”
The question caught me in the chest because I didn’t know the answer. But I needed to comfort him.
“Yes, she is,” I said anyway. Because what else do you tell a kid? “You know those guys. They will do anything for family. They’re going to find her and bring her home.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He nodded and went back to his geometry and I went back to pretending to study for my exam on chemical peels. Neither one of us was actually doing the work. We were both just waiting for someone to come through the door with news.
Rita came into the kitchen and sat at the table with us.
“Yu, baby, go. I want to talk to your auntie.”
Now, it was just me and Rita in the room. Storie and Dream were downstairs watching television. My sister had taken the twins upstairs for a nap. With how much she had to run around to keep up with them, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was sleeping too.
“What’s going on, Rita?” I asked her as she sat next to me.
“How is he?” she asked, referring to Quest.
“He’s…” I stumbled because I couldn’t really answer that question.
Quest had been through some shit and he just pushed through and let it roll of his back.
He hadn’t fully dealt with that shit about his mother and how his real father wasn’t who he had always thought it was.
No sooner had he found out that Rashid was his real father, the casino was shot up and then I was kidnapped, and now there was the whole Serenity situation.
“You know Quest. He’s putting on his brave face but I think he’s suppressing anger.”
“I need you to look out for him just as hard as he’s looking out for you and everyone else in this family.
When this mess blows over and we get Serenity back, he needs to really deal with his pain around Rashid.
When you don’t process grief, it can eat at you and turn into disease.
I saw that on Oprah once,” she chuckled as she turned her head to the side.
“I know. I hope we get Serenity home soon and that he can take a breather.”
“Me too.”
But there was still the matter of Janelle. I wanted her dead for what she did to me. However, it felt inconsequential. Maybe we should let it go and move on. She wasn’t going to try that shit again. And if she did I’d be much better prepared.
“Storie! Come up here and help with these dishes,” Rita called out to her. “You and Zainab cooked for us, she can help with clean up,” she continued.
Then there was silence. No running up the stairs to obey Rita’s order. “Maybe she didn’t hear you.”
“STORIE!” I called out.
Nothing.
“Dream!” Rita yelled.
Immediately I heard the pitter patter of tiny feet climb the stairs. “Yes, Grandma,” she said in her sweet little voice.
“Where is your sister?” Rita asked her.
“Watching television. She said that she don’t feel like washing dishes,” Dream responded as her eyes darted from side to side before landing at her feet. Even she knew that this was a big no-no.
“You go tell her if she don’t bring her butt up here I’m gonna knock her into next Wednesday!” Rita’s eyes were wide and raging to the point that Dream was shaken.
“Baby, I’m not mad about you. Just go get your sister, okay? I’ll give you some chocolate chip cookies when you get back,” Rita continued as she grabbed her tiny trembling hand.
Baby girl nodded her head, those pretty coils shaking back and forth, then ran downstairs to retrieve her defiant sister.
“What in the hell is going on with her?” I asked.
“Justice told me she’s been having problems in school and in the house. That she’s been back talking. I told him to leave her with me for a week. I may be old but I’ll nip that shit in the bud.” She smirked.
“Jesus.” I shook my head in disappointment.
In a matter of moments I heard feet stomping up the stairs and in walked Storie with a look of annoyance contorting her face.
“What?” she blasted.
“Lil girl, wash those dishes and then sit in the living room in the dark until your father comes back.”
“You wash them. I heard being active at your old age will keep you from dying.”
“STORIE!” I barked.
Rita smirked and walked out of the room. When she returned she had a thick leather belt. “You’re right little girl. I do need to be active.”
Immediately Storie started to back away but it didn’t matter, Rita swung that belt and tore up her legs and ass. Yusef came back into the room to see the commotion but then immediately turned right back out with a look of “oh shit,” strewn across his face.
“IF. Whack. YOU. Whack. EVER. Whack. TALK. Whack. To. Whack. Me. Whack. LIKE THAT AGAIN. WHACK. I will send you back home to GOD!” Rita beat her.
“Shiiiit…” I muttered under my breath. I remember getting beatings when I was her age. I always felt like I was too old for it but my beatings were never justified. My father beat me for any reason he could land on.
“I’m sorry, Grandma Rita…” she cried as she turned around and washed the dishes.
Dream went into the living room with Yusef and I could hear him comforting her.
I stayed behind in the kitchen and watched Rita recover from whoopin’.
Her chest puffed and receded as she regained her composure.
Neither a lack of sight nor being older held her back from garnering the respect she deserved.
“Come out with me and smoke a joint, ” Rita said as she turned on her heel and led us outside to her sprawling back yard, complete with a beautiful garden filled with orchids, roses and peonies.
I stayed for another hour. Got high with Rita, which relaxed her deeply.
Checked on the twins and Zainab and they were knocked out.
Hugged Yusef twice on my way out. Kissed Rita on the forehead and promised I’d call her before bed.
Then I walked out and got into the back of the SUV with Davis behind the wheel and Rider in the passenger seat.
“Home, Ms. Ali?” Davis asked.
“Home.”
We pulled away from Rita’s house and headed toward the highway. I leaned my head against the window and let myself feel the exhaustion that I’d been holding back all day. I thought about Mateo’s texts. My life was a series of fires and I was running out of buckets.
About fifteen minutes into the drive, Rider shifted in the passenger seat.
“Davis.”
“I see them.”
“What?” I sat up. “What’s going on?”
“Two motorcycles behind us for the last six miles. Same speed, same distance. They’ve turned every time we’ve turned.”
“Vipers?” But why would my brother’s crew be on me? Did they think we had done something to him?
“Maybe. Or somebody else.” Davis’s eyes were on the rearview. “I’m gonna take this next exit and see if they follow.”
He hit the off-ramp at the last second without signaling. I twisted in my seat and looked through the back window. Two black motorcycles, both with riders in dark helmets, smoothly took the same exit behind us.
“They followed,” I said.
“I see that.”
The exit dumped us onto a back road that wound through trees and farmland on the way back to a different stretch of highway. No streetlights. No other cars. Just dark woods on both sides and the headlights of two motorcycles closing the distance behind us.
“Get down,” Rider said. “Both of you. Now.”
Davis hit the gas. I dropped to the floor of the backseat and pulled my purse with me because Quest had given me a Glock 19 when we started this and I never went anywhere without it. I dug it out and chambered a round and held it tight against my chest.
The engines got louder. The motorcycles were beside us now, one on each side, and that’s when I saw them through the window before I went all the way down.
Both riders in dark gear, both faces covered, but their hands on the handlebars were bare and their necks above their jackets were visible. No tattoos. No ink. Nothing.
These weren’t Vipers.
“They ain’t Vipers, Davis. No tattoos.”
“I see that too.”
The bike on the driver’s side pulled even with Davis’s window.
I heard the sound a half second before the side window exploded.
A single shot through the glass. Davis grunted and the SUV swerved hard and Rider was already pulling his weapon and shouting but the truck was out of control.
We hit the ditch on the right side of the road at maybe forty miles per hour and the SUV tilted, almost flipped, then settled hard on its side with the passenger windows facing the dirt.
My head slammed against something. Pain bloomed behind my left eye. I tasted blood in my mouth and I couldn’t tell if it was from biting my tongue or something worse.
Rider was groaning. Davis wasn’t moving.
I gripped the Glock tighter and forced myself to focus. The motorcycles had stopped. I could hear the engines idling and then cutting off and then footsteps on the gravel. Two sets. Coming toward the driver’s side of the truck which was now the top because we were on our side.
“Get her out alive,” one of the men said. His voice was calm and accented and I didn’t recognize it. “He wants her alive.”
He. Somebody specific had sent these men for me. Not the Banks family in general. Me.
I heard the driver’s door wrenched open. Heard Davis’s body shift. Heard one of the men curse and say “the driver’s done.” Then footsteps moving around the back of the truck to the passenger side, which was now the bottom, against the dirt.
The back passenger door above me opened. A face appeared in the gap, a man in a dark balaclava with eyes that weren’t looking at me with intent to harm. He was looking at me with intent to retrieve.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Time to go for a ride.”
I shot him in the face.
The Glock kicked in my hand and his head snapped back and his body dropped and I was already moving, rolling onto my stomach, gripping the gun with both hands because my body remembered what to do even when my brain was still catching up.
The second man appeared at the door a second later, gun already raised, and I shot him twice in the chest before he could pull the trigger.
He fell backward out of view and I heard his body hit the ground and then nothing.
Silence.
I lay there in the back of an overturned SUV with blood in my mouth and ringing in my ears and a Glock with seven rounds left and two dead men in the dirt outside. Rider was still alive, I could hear him breathing rough. Davis was still and quiet.
I needed to move. Whoever sent those two could send more.
I crawled out of the back through the cargo area, glass and debris cutting my hands. The night air hit me cold and I dropped down onto the gravel and stayed low, scanning the road in both directions. Empty. Just the two motorcycles parked a few feet apart and the two bodies beside them.
I moved toward the woods on the far side of the road. Crouched, gun up, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run. I made it into the tree line and dropped behind a thick oak and pressed my back against it and pulled my phone out of my back pocket with shaking hands.
Quest answered on the first ring.
“What’s up Peach.”
“Someone came for me. Two motorcycles. Davis is dead. Rider is hurt. I shot both of them but there might be more coming.”
“Where are you?”
“Back road off Route 50. Maybe ten miles past the exit. I’m in the woods. I’m hiding.”
“Stay there. Don’t move. I’m coming. I’m leaving right now.”
“Quest, they weren’t Vipers. No tattoos. Different operation. The one who opened the door said somebody wanted me alive. He said ‘he.’”
Silence on the other end. I could hear him breathing. I could hear his brain working through possibilities.
“Stay hidden, Peach. Don’t make a sound. Don’t move from that spot. If you hear anything that’s not me calling your name, you shoot first and ask questions never. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“I love you. I’m coming.”
“I love you too.”
The call ended. I crouched lower behind the oak tree with my back pressed against the bark and the Glock pointed at the road and listened to the woods around me. I knew exactly who did this.
Mateo
It had to be.