A Commitment to Love, Book 3 (21 page)

Lou came over to where he stood to gather more pieces. He stepped to the side, but kept his gaze on Troy. “Yes. Just a little bad news, but I plan to handle this quickly.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Benny stormed off and then stopped walking after a few feet. “Let’s keep communication to a minimum today, everyone.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, but he continued to stomp off to his room. “Benny?”

“It means no calling anyone.” Troy shoveled eggs into his mouth. Earlier, he’d held a serious expression. Now, he wore a grin as he ate.

I leaned his way. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, but I bet you a million dollars it’s about Chase.”

“You don’t have a million dollars.”

“I will once they finish killing each other.” Troy crunched on the bacon. “I’m sure one of them has me in their will.”

I ignored the stupid statement. “How were you able to call people before?”

“I didn’t.”

I checked to make sure Benny was gone and lowered my voice. “Then why—”

“Why what?” Troy glared at me.

“Yesterday, you said—”

“Does it matter? Today is today.” He winked at me. “I don’t have a way to call anyone, Jazz. And all I can tell you is that you shouldn’t call anyone either. Especially not Rich Boy.”

I whispered, hoping the lowered voice would get him to tell me the truth, “But—”

“Let it go, before you get your lover killed.”

“I wasn’t even going there.”

“Yes, you were.”

“I just wanted to know how—”

“Let it go.”

“Fine.” I slumped in my chair, unable to eat anymore, and turned to Vivian whose granola had shifted into a sludgy gray liquid. “Did you bring some ganja?”

She mumbled, “What?”

“Weed? Do you have weed? Marijuana. Sticky icky—”

“Stop, Jazz. Half of those terms aren’t even used.” Troy held his hand in front of him. “You’re too young to be out of style with slang.”

“Whatever. Vivian, do you have some?”

“Yes,” Vivian said. “I’m in a decaying mansion against my will, of course I have a bag.”

“The money, too!?” Shouting came from down the hallway as Benny must’ve yelled into his phone.

I backed up from the table and couldn’t even look at the bun again. “Give me some. I’m going to need to be as high as hell today, just to get through it.”

Troy grabbed my arm. “Naw, man. We’re with a psychopath. You sure you want to be high right now?”

“Sociopath,” I corrected. “And the only thing that I’m sure of, is that something fucked up is going to happen to all of us.”

He squeezed my arm. “Don’t think that way, Jazz. As soon as you believe you’re defeated, you’ll be defeated. Shit is going to work out like it always does. And he’s a psychopath, not a sociopath.”

Vivian set her spoon next to her bowl, her gaze stuck on the small movement as if she had to focus on one second at a time, so she wouldn’t lose her mind.

I turned back to Troy. “Sociopath.”

“Psychopath.” He picked up another piece of bacon. “Both are dangerous. I don’t know why you even care which one it is.”

“Because I get sociopaths. I’ve lived with them. They’re easier to survive.”

Troy gave a sad nod, surely remembering our brothers and Mom, and the tragic household that scarred and sliced through most of our childhood. “Benny isn’t our brothers, Jazz. His head is fucked up.”

Vivian slumped in her chair and bit her bottom lip. Water glazed over her eyes. Small rippling pools of blue that more sparkled than showed her grief. In anything she did, she looked beautiful. Even as she trembled in fear, I found her breathtaking. The urge to grab her hit me hard, but I couldn’t move. I was stone. Hard. With each second, I bricked in my emotions. My fears.

Rock up.

Troy whispered, “We’re going to survive.”

“Because?” I asked.

“Because we always do.” He grabbed his biscuit and sopped up the butter and cheese that had melted together in a swirl of yummy goo. “We know what the solution is. Either Chase will do it, or we will.”

Vivian parted her lips. “I can’t.”

Troy continued to eat and kept his gaze on me.

“Sociopath,” I whispered.

“Really, Jazz?”

“Yes, really. Sociopaths are easily agitated, volatile, and always display emotional outbursts. They don’t have any regard to society’s rules. No guilt or remorse—”

Troy waved me away. “Psychopaths don’t regard rules or have guilt and remorse either.”

“Yes, but sociopaths can form emotional attachments. Psychopaths can’t.”

“Who’s Benny attached to?” Troy rolled his eyes. “We’re locked into his chest, Jazz. And he won’t let us out. This isn’t love.”

“I didn’t say love. I said emotional attachment. Benny cares about us.”

“Are you fucking crazy? He’s trying to kill a man that you love. He’s—”

“Benny won’t kill him.” I shook my head. I had to make that clear. “He promised.”

“Psychopaths lie. He’s going to go after Chase. You just can’t deal with it. Rock up.”

“Fuck you. Don’t tell me to rock up. I’m here standing strong, while you’re munching on biscuits as if everything is just fine.”

“We have to eat. All of us. And get our sleep, and work out. We have to stay healthy. Get our mind right. And when it’s time to make a move, we do it. You’re sitting there spurting out little facts about psychopaths and sociopaths because you read it in one of your college books.” He hit his chest. “I lived it. Jails cage both types, and after a few years of being behind bars with them, I can tell one right away. Benny is a psychopath.”

Vivian’s voice sounded low. “Who cares?”

“I do.” I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. “You can work with a sociopath.”

Troy laughed.

“You can. Think about our brothers. They could’ve killed a lot more people than they did, but I’ve heard stories about them letting some guys go.”

“Stories, huh?” Troy smirked. “Don’t matter. Sociopaths don’t plan. They’re not organized.”

“Sherman was.”

“Sherman listens to Mom. That’s the only reason why he was able to get away with so many things.”

“Let’s not do the Mom-hate-thing today and focus.”

One thing Troy and I never agreed on was Mom. He believed she knew about all our brothers’ drug activities from the very beginning. I didn’t. She kept her hand in my pockets too much. And back in the day, a drug fog filled her head. Other moms walked their kids to the bus stop. Mom lay on the couch, snoring, her legs and arms sprawled out like a starfish, drool dripping from her mouth. Thank God Mom finally got it together. My nieces and nephews had no one else but her. Their parents sat in jail, my brothers and their baby mothers, all locked up from the drug game.

“Mom’s in this shit, too.” Troy grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth. “Now only God can see what will happen next.”

“What do you mean Mom’s in this?”

Troy leaned all to way to me and gestured for me to come closer. My stomach did flips.

Oh God. What now?

“Viv and I left Lucy with Sherman. How the hell did Benny get Lucy and kill her, unless someone told him where everyone was at?”

“Mom didn’t know where Sherman was at. No one did, not even Chase and me. You kept it a secret.”

“Not from Sherman. I mean, the man is there. He could’ve told someone, and it got back to Benny. I bet he told Mom.”

I shrugged. “He could have. Sherman hasn’t been out of jail in five years. You know how he loves his little girls. I bet he called Mom’s house to speak to Tee-Tee.”

“The thing is, I told Sherman not to say anything. He understood the whole situation. Sherman always keeps his promises, unless one person makes him break them, and that’s Mom.”

I blew out a long breath. “You’re losing it. None of this has to do with taking care of Benny.”

“You think Sherman would give two fucks about Benny and not kill him? He was happy to watch over Lucy, just to see if he could have a chance at him. Those two never got along. It’s like some sick competition. He’s been imagining murdering Benny for a long time. Now all of a sudden Benny overpowered Sherman, grabbed Lucy, and hurt her?”

Lucy’s decorated corpse dangled in my mind. “Benny did more than hurt her. He tortured her.”

Vivian looked away. A tear fell from her eye.

“He put glitter and diamonds on her body, and hung her corpse up at the—”

“Stop.” Vivian held up her hand.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

She wiped the tear off her face. “Why aren’t you both worried about Sherman?”

“He texted me a few days ago,” Troy admitted.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“One word. Sorry.” Troy checked down the hall for a few seconds and then returned his attention to us. “Sherman had Lucy. Then Benny got her. Neither man would work with each other. Sherman only listens to one person. Mom. She’s involved.”

Vivian ran her fingers through her hair. “Why does this even matter? Shouldn’t we be focused on Dad?”

“Yeah, but Mom being involved changes the game. She’s a psychopath just like Benny, but less—”

“Mom’s not crazy.” I pointed at him. “Fucked up? Sure. A neglectful mother? Yes. Mind always on money? Definitely. But, Mom’s not psychotic.”

“She’s manipulative. Psychopaths are charming and gain trust to control them. That’s her. She mimics people. I’ve watched her do it. When psychopaths commit a crime, they plan it.”

“Mom has never killed anyone.”

“Psychopaths don’t have to be killers. You’ve got con artists and white-collar criminals that are called intelligent psychopaths.”

I eyed him. “Where are you getting all of this?”

“Due to our current predicament, I have a new interest in psychopaths. There’s three levels to it, too. Confused, mastermind, and then lord. Mom is a mastermind. She hides her true personality. Masterminds plan out evil stuff because they enjoy it. They don’t care about anyone getting hurt. When they use empathy, it’s to understand the weak points of the other person.”

I turned to Vivian. “It’s like we both grew up in different households.”

“No, you just like to pretend that Mom is a loving person. You can’t see evil in people like me.”

Vivian tucked hair behind her ear. “None of this matters.”

“In a way, it does,” Troy corrected. “In any game, you have to understand who your players are and what the rules are. If Benny controls the game, then we can figure out how to win. But if Mom is involved … well, we’re fucked.”

Vivian’s mouth dropped open.

“I’m sorry, Viv. Not fucked.” He let go of my arm, appeared for a minute like he was going to get up and hug her, but then stopped. “I’m just saying, Mom makes things difficult. She’s good at getting inside of Jazz’s and my head. Plus, I can’t figure out why she would even get involved. Why get Lucy killed?”

“This is stupid, man.” I looked at Vivian. “Can you grab that bag?”

“Now?” Vivian asked.

“Hell yes. I’m smoking.”

“But—”

“Please, Vivian.”

Vivian pushed her chair back and rose. “Fine, but don’t talk about anything until I come back.”

We both nodded in unison, in that perfect way we’d practiced, when we were young. People always found Troy and I adorable. As kids, we’d used that little factor against everyone. At eight, we’d go to the corner store, look up at the old Indian woman that cashiered, and give her the saddest eyes.

‘We love you,’ our gazes proclaimed. ‘We are so cute, and we love you.’

Like clockwork, she’d suck her teeth and toss us our favorite candy. For me, pink Now and Laters. Troy had a thing for watermelon Airheads. It was the only sort of watermelon he would eat. I’d never witnessed him eating the actual fruit. He believed it made him a stereotype.

“Not all black people love watermelon, Jazz.” He would roll his tiny eyes, yet drool as I munched on my chunky slices of juicy fruit.

In Benny’s prison castle’s kitchen, Vivian placed her hands on her hips and stared at us. “You both look like you’re lying to me.”

Together, we smiled.

“You’re going to plan something without me, right?” Vivian frowned.

We shook our head no.

“For my own good, apparently?” Her sad expression shifted to annoyance.

We said nothing.

“I’m going to get the stuff. Try not to plan something stupid until I get back.” She gave up and walked off.

When she disappeared into her room, Troy fixed his attention on me. “What, Jazz?”

“You’re leaving something out.”

“Am I?”

“Your reasons for Mom being involved are shaky. What’s going on?”

“You’re just going to get mad and even more pissed, so why go there?”

“What?”

“I’m not even sure if I’m right.”