Chasing Bliss (17 page)

He laughed and put on his other sneaker. He was wearing black socks, too, Bliss noticed. “Go
ahead. Seems like me and you are pretty good at getting things out of the way, like I said.”

“Okay. Are
you
a drug dealer?”

Again, he stopped what he was doing and looked her in the eye. “No. I’m no drug dealer. I
promise you that.”

She wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but she didn’t let it out yet because there was still
something else. “All right, I believe you. One more question though.”

He stood and ran a brush over his hair as he looked at her expectantly.

“Why are you dressed all in black like that?”

He put his brush down. “Well, Bliss, considering my brother just took a bullet, I might have to
kick somebody’s ass tonight.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Is that all? You look like a damned ninja.”

“Good. You know what they say about the element of surprise.”

She stood up, slipped her dress over her head, and turned around so he could zip her up. “I wish
you wouldn’t go. What if you get hurt?”

Chase winked at her. “Don’t worry about me. If you gotta worry about somebody, worry about
the shooter.” He kissed her forehead and put his hands on her waist. “Why don’t you stay here until
I get back? I’m not really finished with you.”

“Can you promise me you won’t kick anybody’s ass?”

He shook his head but smiled. “No. I don’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

She didn’t think he would promise, but it didn’t hurt to ask. She gave him a peck on the lips.
“Then I’m not going to stay.”

“All right, but can I come to you when this is over?”

She stared at him. He was a man with his own definite way of seeing things. There was probably
nothing she could say that would keep him from doing whatever it was that he was going to do, but
she was going to let him know she wasn’t happy about it. “Could you zip my dress up, please?”

Chase kissed her bare shoulder before he did, and it was like a little shock of electricity. He
spoke in her ear, and it made her dizzy. “Don’t be like that, Bliss. If you won’t stay, let me come
see you, honey.” He kissed her neck, and all her resolve dissolved.

She sighed dramatically. “Okay, Chase. How can I tell you no?”

She felt him smile against her skin. “You really shouldn’t ever try. You hurt my feelin’s every
time you do. I love you, Bliss.”

“I love you too. Now, drop me off at home, and I’ll let you in when you get there later.”

Bliss slipped on her shoes, and Chase put on a plain black baseball jacket. He took her hand,
and they walked to the elevator like they were taking a casual stroll. He started kissing her when
they got inside, walking up on her so her back was against the wall, covering her with lovely,
little, intimate kisses that were killing her. She put her hands in the back pockets of his jeans and
pulled him against her, standing on her toes. They rubbed against each other, and the friction was
beautiful. Chase moaned and started pulling her dress up.

Bliss laughed and started pulling it down. “Chase, don’t you have somewhere you need to
be?”

He pulled on her dress again, and she pushed it back. “I do, but you’re puttin’ up a fight.”

“So I’ll owe you one. Go see about your brother.”

He let her go with major reluctance. “Yeah, right. Cyrus. Okay. I’m goin’, but there’s one more
thing you’re gonna get mad at me about.”

“What’s that?”

They stepped out of the elevator and into the garage.

Chase walked past his Porsche, and Bliss frowned. “You’re gonna have to ride in my
Charger.”

Bliss started to argue with him but changed her mind. Chase held the door open for her like a
gentleman, and she got in without a word. She didn’t care for the car at all. Chase got in and started
the engine. It gurgled mightily and then settled into a dull purr.

It was cold in the car even though the night was pleasant. Bliss shivered involuntarily, and
Chase looked at her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I just don’t like this car.”

Chase looked at her like she was overreacting. “What’s the big deal, Bliss?”

“I just don’t like it. There’s just something I just can’t put my finger on.”

Chase reached over and dropped her hand in his lap. “Here. Put your finger on this.”

Bliss laughed and pulled her hand away, looking at him like he was a bad boy—which he was.
“You’ve got a little nasty side to you, don’t you, Chase?”

He laughed devilishly and backed out of the garage. “I got a
huge
nasty side. You ain’t seen
nothin’.”

She smiled. “I can’t wait.”

“You won’t have to,” he said and slid his hand up her thigh.

They drove to the light, and Bliss reached for the radio.

Chase reached for her hand before she touched it and kissed her fingers. “That’s not a real radio.
It just looks like one.”

She frowned. “Chase, how you gonna have a car with no radio? It’s already old and ugly and
cold. No radio makes it seem like a hearse.”

Chase surprised her with a short burst of real laughter. “A hearse? That’s really funny, Bliss.
You have no idea. You’ve got a vivid imagination, sweetheart.”

“What are you driving this thing for anyway? Why didn’t you just take your Porsche?”

He looked over at her patiently. “Because my Porsche seats two.”

Bliss stopped talking and looked out the window. “When you finish seeing about Cyrus, just
come to me, okay, Chase?” She glanced at his scars and winced. “I really don’t want you fighting.
I mean it. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He smiled. “I really ain’t lookin’ to
fight
, Bliss, okay? I won’t let anybody hurt me. I promise.”

They rode for a while in silence, while Bliss turned things over in her mind. “How come you
were really upset until you found out Corey was okay? Why are you so calm now? Aren’t you
worried about Cyrus?’

“If I wasn’t worried about Cyrus, I wouldn’t be drivin’ around in the middle of the night. I’d
have you in my bed, Bliss, trying to get my point across and make you see things my way.”

Bliss smiled. He was already making her see certain things his way, but she kept at him. “Don’t
you like Cyrus, Chase?”

He glanced at her as he pulled up in front of her building. “I don’t really want to talk about
my relationship with Cyrus right now. One day soon, I’ll tell you all about us, but now’s not the
time.”

Bliss stared at him until he looked back at her. She couldn’t read much in his face, and it was
clear he’d shut that particular door to her. She let it go. “I’m sure you will. I’ll try to wait up for
you. Just be careful, Chase. Don’t do anything…crazy.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “There’s that word again. Give me a kiss.”

Bliss kissed him and made sure to make it a good one. “You make sure you hurry up and come
back to me. I’m not playing, Chase.”

He hugged her and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She got out of the car and leaned back in before she closed the door. “I hope Cyrus is okay.”

Chase shrugged. “Whatever. I’m sure he’s not dead. I’ll be back. Bye, Bliss.” He watched her
in, then drove away.

Bliss went up to her apartment, wondering what was going on with Chase but loving him
anyway.

Chapter 11

B
y the time Chase managed to make it to the hospital, he was very pissed off for a lot of
reasons. First and foremost, the needles drama involving his hot-headed, controlling-ass
brother had cut into his time with Bliss. Secondly, Corey had been with tired-ass Cyrus when all
the shit went down and could have gotten killed. And lastly, it just meant more shit he’d have to
do for Cyrus. In spite of their differences, he couldn’t just let somebody shoot his fucking brother
and not answer for it—and they would answer for it that very night.

When he got there, Khalid was sitting next to Corey, who was looking absolutely miserable. J.T.
was watching them with his arms folded across his chest, looking at Khalid like he was something
nasty. When Chase walked in, everybody looked at him—something he was very weary of. He just
wanted to go home and be with his woman, but now he had to deal with that crew of fuck-ups. “All
right, Corey. Clue me in on what the fuck’s going on here.”

Before Corey could answer, Khalid stood up. “They was drivin’ down Saratoga, and these
niggas in a BMW—”

Chase turned his head slowly and pointed his finger at Khalid. “Is your name Corey? No, so
shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear shit from you until I ask you.”

Khalid frowned and looked outraged. “Who the fuck you talkin’ to, Smoke?”

Chase raised his eyebrows and reached for his back pocket. “You tryin’ me, Khalid? Don’t press
your luck with me, ‘cause your shit is already thin.”

Khalid fell back and J.T. laughed.

Chase looked at his brother. “Get up, Corey. You okay?”

Corey stood up obediently. “I’m good, Chase. But those fuckers shot Cyrus!”

Chase frowned and nodded, looking everywhere at once, very discreetly.

J.T. moved closer to him and spoke low. “Chill, baby. The cops left about an hour ago. It’s
cool.”

Chase looked at Corey. “Did you give a statement?”

Corey shrugged and continued to look miserable. “Yeah. I
had
to.”

“What did you tell ‘em?”

Corey shrugged again. “I told ‘em we was ridin’ down Saratoga, and we stopped at a bodega to
get a newspaper. All of a sudden, some niggas in a dark blue BMW rolled up and started sprayin’
bullets. Yo, they shot Cyrus, Chase! Shot him right in front of my face. They wasn’t even aiming
at me.”

“I take it you stopped your story at the part where they started sprayin’ bullets?”

Corey nodded.

Chase turned to Khalid. “Where the fuck were you at?”

Khalid frowned. “Oh, so
now
you want to hear from me?”

Chase smiled at him maliciously, and his eyes glittered. “One more fucked-up word outta
you, and you won’t have to worry about nobody hearin’ from your stupid ass again. Answer me,
motherfucker.”

Khalid blinked and looked seriously offended. “Smoke, why you talkin’ to me like that? What
you disrespectin’ me for, man?”

Chase advanced on him, and J.T. stepped between them, trying to keep some order. “‘Cause I
don’t…fuckin’…like…your…sorry…ass. Now, where the hell were you?”

Khalid shook his head. “That’s some personal shit you need to work out, Smoke. I was home
with my woman. That okay with you?”

Chase stared at him blackly. If there was any living person he hated, it had to be that muthafucker.
Besides the fact that Chase thought it was Khalid who sent Herc to murder him and Corey that day
long ago, he also felt Khalid had always been a huge and horrible influence on Cyrus, feeding the
flames of Cyrus’s fucked-up ways. Chase turned away from him and back to Corey. “How bad is
Cyrus hurt?”

“Not that bad, thank God.”

“They shot him in his
ass
, Chase. Oh…and once in the back, on the right shoulder, high up.
Another one got him in the elbow. Chipped some bone in there, I guess,” J.T. said.

Chase nodded, somewhat relieved, but also a tiny bit disappointed. “Okay, so them niggas are
bad shots. Where’s Cyrus at?”

Corey pointed to triage. “Over there. He’s got a bed in the middle.”

“They’re gettin’ ready to move him,” J.T. added.

Chase nodded again. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He walked through the double doors and scanned the room. Thankfully, it wasn’t a busy
night at the emergency room. There were people peppered through the room in various stages of
physical disarray. A doctor walked from behind an area with the privacy curtain pulled, and Chase
instinctively turned his face away. The doctor talked briefly with a nurse and headed down a long
corridor to the exit. Chase waited until he was gone, then stepped behind the curtain.

Cyrus was hooked up to several machines. He was on his back, with one arm in a sling and his
nose splinted and bandaged. He appeared to be sleeping.

“Wake your ass up, Cyrus,” Chase demanded, standing close to him.

Cyrus’s eyes opened slowly. “I’m not asleep. Thanks for comin’ to see about me, Smoke.”

Chase laughed a cold little laugh. “How could I stay away? You’re my damn brother, like it or
not. You all right?”

“Considering how bad it coulda been, I’m ready to do the Electric Slide,” he said with a smile.

Chase ignored his attempt at humor. “Who did it?”

“Two of Wolf’s boys, Mooch and Post. I think it was Mooch who did the actual trigger work.
You know ‘em?”

Chase nodded. “I know Mooch, and I’ve seen Post around. I know who he is.” They looked at
each other for a long time before Chase continued, “I’m gonna handle this thing for you, Cyrus.
I’m gonna handle Wolf, too, and I’ll help you finish your club. After that, I think we should go
our separate ways. I’m not gonna be cleanin’ shit up for you forever. I meant what I said this
mornin’.”

Cyrus looked away from him, but Chase recognized the insolence and the smugness in his face.
He planned to keep using Corey as a weapon. “Okay, Chase. I appreciate it, and I can’t thank you
enough.”

Chase frowned at his insincerity. “Fuck you, Cyrus. You don’t mean that shit.”

Cyrus looked surprised at Chase’s words and made a superficial attempt to smooth things over.
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Smoke. You don’t mean it. You’re just angry.”

“No, Cyrus. I’m just tired.” He didn’t want to be there anymore, and it was time to leave. “You
must be tired too. Somebody will let you know how things turn out. Take care of yourself.”

“You too, little brother. Watch your back.”

Chase looked at him hard. “From the looks of it, maybe you should watch yours. Bye, Cyrus.”
After Chase returned to the waiting room, he made a beeline for Corey. “I want you to go home.
You don’t need to be any more mixed up in this shit than you already are, Corey.”

Corey was visibly angry at such a suggestion. “Nah, man. Fuck that! He’s my brother, too, and
I was there when those niggas shot him up. I’m goin’ with you.”

“No you’re not. Go home, Corey. I mean it.”

“But, Chase, I—”

Chase wasn’t in any mood to argue. “Corey, I told you to go home. I’ll call you before daybreak.
This shouldn’t take that long.” He put his hand on Corey’s shoulder and gently guided him out of
the hospital.

When they got to Khalid’s car, Corey turned to face him. “You treat me like a damn little kid,
Chase. I
am
grown, you know.”

Chase smiled at him. “You may be grown, but you’re still my little brother, and I love you. I
want you safe, Corey, and to stay that way, you gotta listen to me, grown or not.” Chase knew
Corey was pissed at him, but that wasn’t important at the moment. It was more important to him
that Corey remained unharmed. He turned to Khalid. “Take him straight home, no stops, and then
go home yourself. I’ll be in touch.”

Khalid nodded, but he didn’t bother expressing any false gratitude like Cyrus had.

Chase could envision himself cutting Khalid’s throat, and he almost smiled at the thought as he
turned and walked away. “Come on, J.T. You’re drivin’.”

They got into the Charger, and J.T. drove to Brooklyn. “Who we lookin’ for?” J.T. asked.

“Mooch and Post.”

J.T. shook his head “That’s fucked up.”

Chase shrugged. “They shoulda thought about that.”

“Well, they shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Not at all. Let’s get Mooch first. Turn here.”

They drove down Bushwick Avenue, and Chase’s eyes scanned the street.

“Here, right?” J.T. asked, pulling up in front of a block of row houses. It was 3:00am, but it
was a warm and early Saturday morning, so there was still a small smattering of people still out in
small social circles.

Chase opened the glove compartment as J.T. turned on the radio that wasn’t a real radio at all;
it was a police scanner. Chase took out a pair of black gloves, a black baseball cap, and a face
visor—the kind skiers wear in the winter to keep the wind off their faces. He put the gloves and cap
on, then reached back into the glove box and took out a black nine with the serial numbers rubbed
off. He tucked the weapon into his jeans and looked over at J.T. “Meet me two blocks down, by
the light.”

“Done,” J.T. replied in true yes-man fashion.

Chase got out and went up the steps of Mooch’s residence. He’d done this all before, so it didn’t
take him long. He took a small black case out of his pocket and used two metal tools to tumble the
lock and get inside. To any onlookers, he would have looked as harmless as a resident who was
having a little trouble with his key. He opened the door and stepped soundlessly into the entryway
like a man coming home from work.

It was dark and deserted, which made things easier. Apparently, Mooch called an apartment on
the second floor home. Chase started up the stairs with liquid grace. The stairway was dimly lit
and unoccupied, as was the hallway, but he was glad it wasn’t too quiet in the place. Somewhere
someone was playing their TV too loud, and a baby was wailing—both helpful, noisy distractions
for what was about to take place in the building. He jogged up the rest of the stairs and withdrew
his trusty razor from his pocket. He stopped just outside Mooch’s apartment door. He was going to
put the visor on, but he decided against it.
Fuck it. I want the last thing this trigger-happy Mooch fucker
to see is my face.
He was in it now: Chase was gone. Smoke was here.

Chase smiled to himself as he lifted the ring of the brass knocker and let it fall three times. He
knew niggas get real stupid when they’re in a panic. He tried to squelch the thrill of anticipation
that leapt up in him, tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t be feeling exhilarated. After all, murder
isn’t supposed to be fun, like a damn hobby or something. He stepped out of the view of the
peephole when he heard footsteps on the other side.