A Commitment to Love, Book 3 (30 page)

We’d rolled some joints, taken them with us, and smoked on the west wing, where everything was the most neglected. Troy had scouted out the area days ago, in one of his explorations of this massive property. He still kept that secret phone in a large room that was the size of Vivian’s and my old apartment back in the States.

That was where I danced.

“What do you think they used this room for?” Vivian handed me the made joint. “It must’ve been something grand.”

Although an unsettling emptiness touched every wall and inch of muddied floor, the place seemed to breathe. Like the mansion had come alive. When the place inhaled, wind rushed into the broken windows. When it exhaled, birds flew out of cracks in the wall and squirrels scurried off to their burrowed corners.

I pointed to the chandelier, picked up the lighter near Troy’s feet, and lit the joint. “Maybe this was some sort of ballroom.”

“Naw,” Troy said. “You wouldn’t have a big ballroom on the second floor.”

“But those drapes wouldn’t go into a regular bedroom.”

Dirt-smudged, white, silky curtains dangled from rusted rods that had been carved into a vine of flowers and leaves. Little animal footprints decorated the bottoms of the material, mud and matted-fur covered the rest.

I took a hit and passed it back to Vivian. “How can the owners just let the whole place go?”

It was such an odd thing. Rotting things growing out of luxury. Most of the ceiling had fell away. It looked like a person’s ripped open chest—the broken away ceiling representing the skin. Wooden bars stuck out of the torn flesh. Wires dangled like split veins. Everything above our heads spoke neglect and damage, except for the sparkling chandelier. Even coated in a layer of dust, it shined.

“You didn’t show Jasmine the box of letters?” Vivian hit Troy on the arm. “We have to show her the letters.”

“What letters?” I asked.

“Some crazy person delivered mail to this address. They filled two boxes. Most of them were unopened. I checked the old ones that had been ripped open.” He tossed me a grin. “The writer was saying some ill shit, like, he was the soul of the house.”

Vivian waved her hands in front of her face. “No. No. You have to say it in a dark voice.”

“Fine.” Troy slipped into a deep base. “I am the soul of this house, and you are not worthy to live here. Leave now or I will come and spill blood to feed the body.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“That was it pretty much it. Some crazy man wrote a bunch of letters like that and the person just dropped them in a box. After a year or so, they stopped being opened.” Vivian chuckled. “All of the letters said that. Tons of them. I bet that’s the reason why the owner got out of here.”

“Benny says that’s just the nature of Bishop’s Avenue.” I twirled. “Lots of these mansions are supposedly abandoned.”

Troy mocked me, “Benny says that’s just the nature of Bishop’s Avenue.”

I rolled my eyes. “Very mature, Troy.”

“Why are you still listening to this man?”

I huffed. “Because I bet some of the things he says have some truth to it.”

“And the rest?” he asked.

“Probably lies.”

“Psycho.”

“Sociopath.”

“Stupid twins,” Vivian blurted out as she handed the joint back to me.

Dirt and cracked tiles decorated the floor. It all snapped and crumbled under my feet as I strolled around, doing a twirl or turn every few steps. Streams of weed smoke swirled around my body as I swayed.

“Jazz, are you going to smoke or dance with it?” Troy rubbed his eyes.

I leapt toward them, did a curtsy, leaned over, and handed him the joint. “There you go, kind sir.”

“Just give me the damn thing,” he snapped.

Vivian raised her eyebrows. “What’s your problem? You’ve been grumpy since we came back.”

“Leave it alone.” He gestured to the walls and ceiling. “Anybody could be listening.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.” I pointed down.

Is it time to call Chase yet?

Troy sucked his teeth. “You’re just over there bursting with anticipation, aren’t you?”

“Ah ha! Is that why you’re dancing?” Vivian grabbed the joint from Troy.

“Really?” I asked. “
You two
are judging me?”

They both shut up. Troy looked the other way. Vivian blew out smoke.

I walked over to them and knelt. “How much longer do you think we have?”

“Before what?” Troy asked.

I whispered, “Before Papa Bear gets home.”

“Maybe he’ll be back tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

“We may not get another chance. We should go down there and do the thing.”

Troy grumbled, “I don’t know, Jazz. I never tried calling twice in one day. I figured we could try tomorrow.”

Hell no. I just want to hear his voice one more time. I can’t wait until tomorrow.

“We can’t wait. If he returns tonight … then there’s no way to do what we want to do.” I formed my mouth into a smile. “Now is the time.”

“Can you look a little bit more serious and less like you’re talking about climbing out of the window and sneaking away to go make out with your high school boyfriend?”

“I never did that.” I took the joint from Vivian.

“I bet you want to right now, don’t you?” Troy said.

“Duh.” I inhaled.

He leaned my way and whispered, “This isn’t a freak call, Jazz. Get as much information as you can, get Sherman on the phone, and then hang up.”

“I know it’s not a freak call.”

“This shit could get Chase killed.”

Darkness waved through me. The reality sprang back. It had never disappeared. I’d just pushed it away a little to relish in the fact that I would hear Chase’s voice again.

I exhaled and handed Troy the joint. “I got it. Make it quick, and make sure it matters.”

“And none of that freaky shit.”

“We don’t do freaky shit.”

Troy nudged Vivian’s arm. “Remember Italy? ‘Oh Chase. You’re the lord. You’re the savior. Oh God!’”

I frowned. “I’ve never said anything like that.”

“Don’t forget what he was saying.” Laughter fled Vivian’s mouth as she changed her voice to a man’s tone. “Mine, when I want it. Mine, when I beg!”

“And then the booming started.” Troy made like he was dry heaving. “All that noise spread through the house. I didn’t know if he was beating my sister or what.”

“Or what, clearly,” I mumbled.

Vivian beat her chest with closed fists. “Mine, when I want it. Mine, when I beg!”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay. I get it. The proper level of mortification has been reached. New topic.”

C
HAPTER
17

Chase

S
ophia
stood next to my seat. “Why do you look so scared?”

I had no reply.

The knowledge that she’d allowed this pedophile to come close to her kids, just to gain more power, it frightened me. She represented the lowest of the low. A vile human with no morals, just the cold of the wild pulsing through her wicked veins.

“Chase?” she asked again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look frightened.”

Due to that horrible night, both Jasmine and Troy had changed forever. My tesoro learned fear of men, barring herself from males for years. She claimed her over-bearing brothers stopped her from dating. I doubted it. I saw some of her high school pictures. She appeared silent and uncomfortable in her own skin. That night had taught her that her body could be used against her, and she’d spent those childhood years hiding inside of it as much as possible.

And according to her, Troy transformed overnight from a funny science geek to cutting school every day and hanging out with bullies. A year later, the police arrested him for assault and threw him into a juvenile center. His criminal path continued after that.

She ruined both of their lives.

I understood Benny. Although a calculated monster, he’d had military training somehow, and thus lived by this code for humanity. It was a gray code, dotted in blood, but he still followed a framework that flew above him.

Sophia had no code or common dignity. Anyone could be her pawn. Anybody could die on her watch. The only person she cared about was her. That was the purest evil.

“What’s wrong, Chase?” Sophia glanced at the journals on the floor. “You read something that got you scared?”

“Yeah. Something shoved me off the edge.” I thought back to the Sun Tzu comment she’d made.

Sophia had widened her mouth into a mischievous grin. “To know your enemies, is to become your enemies.”

I had to learn more about Benny and Sophia if I hoped to protect Jasmine and I from her. They both had me going crazy.

As if she heard my thoughts, she said, “Benny will do that to you.”

“He sure will.”

“I don’t get why you’re even reading these journals.”

“Have you?” I asked.

“No, I don’t need to read about his life, I lived it.”

“He does talk a lot about you.”

Her expression faltered for a second, and then she recovered. “And what did he say?”

“Not many good things.”

She smirked as if I was just a little kid covered in dirt, and in need of a bath. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Nothing’s changed for me. We both want the same thing—Benny dead.”

“You’re a good boy.”

“I try.”

And this time, you didn’t even pretend like this whole mission was about Jasmine.

“Are you going to keep being a good boy?” she asked.

One of my guards stood up and walked to me. “Everything okay, sir?”

What is a good boy to you, Sophia? Was Benny a good boy? When did he stop being your version of good?

“Sir?” my guard asked again.

My focus remained on Sophia. “Yes, everything is okay.”

“You’re getting nervous.” She sat in the seat across from me, after the guard went away. “Now’s not the time to get jittery. There’s some hard days in front of us. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She grinned. The expression made me shiver. “I’ve never been to Paris before. I bet this is your fifth time, huh? I’ve never left the country.”

I still hadn’t told her that the plane switched course to London. The less she knew, the better. “Benny never took you away?”

“No. He liked me right in the hood, where he could hide me and do what he wanted. But you never answered my question. How many times have you been to Paris?”

“About twenty.”

“Last time was when you took Jasmine?” she asked.

“That’s right. How did you know that?”

“I called her, when you both got back. I’d been calling her over and over for weeks. She’d been ignoring my calls.”

“That’s right.” I bobbed my head. “You needed money for your electricity bill.”

Her grin widened. “Yes. Times were hard back then. Thank God she met you. Everything’s going much better.”

Were times hard? Why would your electricity go out, if you and your sons controlled South End’s drug market? Something isn’t adding up.

“Did Jasmine pay your bills a lot?” I asked.

“Almost monthly.”

“Times were hard?”

“And it was her task. We all have to give back. You can’t just eat, leave my house, and move on. There’s always a debt.”

“The electricity bill was the debt?”

“No just a reminder to take care of home.”

The stewardess brought over a small glass of brown liquid filled to the rim with ice. I grabbed it immediately and gulped the hard stuff. My tongue stung. My throat burned, yet I welcomed the pain.

“Thank you,” I said to the stewardess as she rested a glass of red wine in front of Sophia.

“We have a long trip.” She lifted to glass. “Feel free to ask me as many questions as you have. I’m in a giving mood this evening.”