I continue my story about Jiang. “He was shouting. I’m like, shut yergeggie, then pressed the unlock button to my ride. But he didna shut hisfeckin’geggie—”
“Ge—?”
“It’smouth. That’s what it means, sorry.” I chew on my thumbnail. “I’mfeckin’irritated. Chevelle has to remind me to speak plainly sometimes too. Anyway, the lad had an accent. I’m told I’ve a bloody accent,” I add with a shrug. “But I paid him nae mind. Only the Chinese lad didna stop.”
“What happened next?”
“Roughed him up a bit. The one-two punch, followed by a forearm to his throat, with a quickskalpto his face to top ‘em off. So, he starts walking away, but then he pulls out a gun.”
With her taco discarded, Wendy nods thoughtfully.
“I took his gun before the lad could disengage the safety. Again, one shot. When I trained and was called anuggetby my da, he says,ye have a gun in yer hand for a reason. If ye’re not intending to use it, dinna use it!” I drop my head in contemplation of how I’m a contradiction to my clan. How I failed my da’s teachings.
“I let out a warning shot.”At his knee, but I don’t include that bit. “That didna penetrate through the lad’s heid.”The next one did the trick.
I let Wendy infer the rest, growing callus at the thought of how Jiang came at me again. The second shot, the one between his eyes, shut hisfeckin’geggie. Before I tell Chevelle this story, I’ll need to dig deep and feel remorse.
The truth is—I feel nothing.
Wendy cuts in. “Do you know if there’s surveillance in the parking structure at your job?”
“Yep, wiped it.” I shrug, rubbing my thumb over the chipped paint on the wooden table.
Huffing, she leans back. “Noooo. I’m not a criminal attorney, Leith, but you’ve described self-defense. A video could assist in that regard, um, without you having to verbalize too much about assaulting him first.”
“Eh, nae. I’m a MacKenzie. Video or not, I’d be in the wrong. Besides, the lad’s gone for good.” I flick the pale blue paint chip onto the sidewalk.
“Still, if something were to happen, you’d have concrete proof on your side.”
“Nae.” I shake my head.
This poor lady thinks I’m a bloodynugget. But ain’t nobody finding that body—least not all of it. In the wee hours of the morning, I took a boat ride to the edge of thefeckin’earth—dropped a cement laden leg here, a cement molded arm there. Of course, the blocks weren’t identifiable. Also, Brody took a few pieces. Hands and teeth. The importantshite. Those identifiable bits will be sprinkled in various parts of the desert on his next cross-country run for MacKenzie Freight Lines.
God forbid Chevelle ever finds out.
Chapter 13
Chevelle
“Out of sight out of mind”has been the driving force of my entire life. That was one of the opportunities afforded me by Lady. There was no way in hell she was spending my money on a shrink to get the past out of my head, so I did it myself. First, with the toys she bought me, next with endless video games.
Still, the image of my momma weighs vividly on my heart. She was a quiet person at times and asked for nothing. Flawless diamonds adorned her supple, black skin, but that spark never extended to her eyes. She had these soulful brown gems that radiated another sad love song. My dad was an extremely light-skinned man. He would rave about how the sun followed his love around, creating this rich, dark beauty until the day they crossed paths.
The two of them once offered me sweet dreams—or the beautiful nightmares of perceived happiness. I didn’t grow up in a house filled with shouting or domestic violence incidents. Momma kneaded Dad’s neck as he spilled over legal documents. I had a vanilla life. I lived on the pretty side of gentrification—private school in Chicago, piano class, stuff like that. I still stop my fingers from softly weaving a tune that won’t be heard.
Today, with Leith and Mia on their outing, I attend to the hops, a plant that helps beer retain its head of foam and keeps it fresher. Then I work with the lavender plants, which I plan to use for my next round of brew.
When I commenced my hobby, I purchased most of the brewing essentials on the great, infinite Zon. Next day delivery was a convenient bonus. Now, I shop at specialty stores for my brewery supplies. I buy my plants from prestigious nurseries. My green thumb and brewing skills will cater to a more refined clientele. I refuse to name my pub and brewery Mia’s Place without coming through.
Digging my hands into the rich soil, I let my mind drift. I wonder if I’m so blinded by love that I’ve neglected to see Leith drawing closer to Erika or the clan in any way? A thought enters my brain bringing me to a stop. The second it pops in my mind that he isn’t working in Silicon Valley and has taken his rightful place in the family business, I groan. “Get behind me, Satan.”
I dust my hands on my jeans and slide my cell phone from my pocket. Two weeks ago, I had a solo lunch at Kelly’s Steakhouse. It was a weekday with not many patrons, so I sat at the bar. Lonely, I made a suggestion to the bartender, who turned out to beOphelia Kelly,the owner. One thing led to another, and she asked about my brews.
I select her number from contacts. Chewing the meat of my top lip, I await her answer. Though I have her cell phone number, catching Ophelia has been extremely difficult. But I’m a friggin housewife, so there’s not much to do but sit around and wait.
When she answers, I stifle my excitement.
“Oh, Chevelle,” Ophelia exclaims, “I apologize for not getting back to you.”