Retribution (32 page)

She shakes her head, then quietly says, “Jasper's never been good with letting go; unless it's on
his
terms. He's always been like that. I guess
before
I tried to force you to meet him, I should have warned you that he was kind of possessive—”

I cut her off. “
Kind of?
You think?”

“Okay, he is possessive.”

“And obsessive.”

“Okay.
And
obsessive.”

“Yeah, bitch. I'm thinking a heads-up would have been nice.” I shake my head. “Then again, ten, twelve, years ago, it wouldn't have really mattered what you would have told me about his ass back then. You knew I had a thing for bad boys…”

For the first time today, she laughs. “And thug love.”

I wave her on, playfully rolling my eyes. “What. Ever. But you're right. And Jasper's hood swag was on ten. So I would have most likely dismissed anything you had to say about him back then. I would have stuck my hand in the fire, anyway; just to see how hot it got.”

“Yeah, you're right. Your ass had it bad for them street niggas; that's why I
knew
you'd like him.”

You also knew his motherfucking ass was crazy!
I sigh. “Yeah, I sure knew how to pick 'em. Sadly, at that time, Jasper was everything I craved for in a man, everything.”

She reaches over and places the top of her hand over mine. “And, believe it or not, Pasha, you were
everything
he needed in a woman.”

I roll my eyes up in my head. “Then reality hit and we both learned the naked truth.”

“And what was that?”

“That he's a psychopath. And I'm a whore.”

“Ohmygod, girl, stop. I can't believe you'd say that. That's not true.”

I tilt my head, eye her seriously. “Which part, him being a psychopath? Or me being a whore?”

“Both.” She slides her hand away from mine, toying with the platinum Tiffany's pendant hanging around her neck.

I raise my brow. “I don't know why it's
not
true. I
was
a whore.
His
whore. Then, over time—with him in prison, I suddenly became everyone else's whore as well. The difference is, I take full responsibility for what I've done. He won't.”

She shakes her head. “This whole shit is crazy. I really thought the two of you were in love; that what y'all had was real. You both seemed so happy.”

I suddenly feel a slow aching in my chest. “We were…in love; and,
maybe,
even happy. But then the streets, and the whores, and the lies stripped that shit away. What Jasper and I shared is what it is. I'm not going to sit and say we didn't have our share of good times, because we did. But we had a whole bunch of bad times as well. And I'm not going to lie or deny that I didn't really loved him through it all, because I did. Through all the disrespect and the fighting and the streets and the bullshit I put up with, I loved him.”

I feel my eyes welling up with tears and my blood starting to boil. “On the outside looking in, Jasper and I were everything. We were the perfect fit, the power couple. I was the beauty to his beast. But all that shit really was is an illusion. There was nothing ever perfect about the two of us. Jasper's ass went to prison. His
beauty
went off and sucked a string of other niggas' dicks. And the
beast
came home and had me kidnapped. So there was never going to be a happy ending for the two of us. Whatever love I
had
for Jasper died the day I opened my eyes in that hospital bed—all bandaged and wired up—and realized that
he
was the one who did that to me.”

I swipe my tears away, then reach for my flute, gulping down the rest of my drink. I decide not to mention to her my six
A.M.
flight tomorrow morning leaving for Los Angeles to spend the day with my son. I don't know how much information I can trust her with. Right now, she seems too emotionally fragile.

I take a deep breath. “Jasper may be my son's father. And—at first,
even after he threatened to beat him out of me if I told anyone what really happened to me—I still wasn't willing to ever keep him from being in Jaylen's life. But, now, after that motherfucker threatened to put a bullet in my head, then turned around the next day and had one of his goons shoot at me, the only way he'll ever see my son is through a court order.”

Shock washes over her face and her jaw drops. “Ohmygod! What? When?”

I fill her in, then say, “I'm done with pretending that I don't spend every waking moment hating his ass, and wanting him to pay for what he did to me.” I lean in and lower my voice. “After what he's done, his ass is as good as dead.”

Mona gives me a pained look. Her eyes fill with tears. “Has Jasper no fucking shame, no conscience? I know he's my cousin. But I truly fucking despise him for what he's done to you. I can't stand to look at him, or be anywhere around him right now. And now to hear him threatening to kill you and having you shot at.” She shakes her head, choking back tears. “Jasper is going too far.”

“And you
still
don't think he's a
psychopath
?”

She lets out a disgusted grunt. “After everything you've told me, I don't know what to think. I'm still having a hard time digesting everything. And, honestly, a part of me doesn't want to believe it. But I know it's true. Still…” She shifts her eyes around the room, then looks back at me, exhaling deeply as if she's struggling to keep things in perspective. “It hurts knowing it's true. It hurts knowing Jasper's more cold-blooded and heartless than I ever imagined. Seems like all of them niggas on my father's side of the family, with the exception of Stax and Sparks, have a screw or two loose. Jasper, Jaheim, Dez…”

I blink.
She can't possibly be talking about Desmond, my cousin Paris' man.
“Dez? Your cousin
Desmond
?”

She nods. “Unfortunately, yes. Why you think he spent six years in prison?” I give her a blank stare. By the expression on my face she knows I had no clue he'd been locked up.

Locked up for what?

“Dez is happy-handed,” Mona continues as if she's read my thoughts. “He's beat up at least three of his girlfriends; that
I
know of. There's no telling how many others.” I blink, wondering if Paris knows this. “The last girlfriend he had, he beat the shit out of her so bad she was in a coma for almost two weeks. They tried to get him for attempted murder, but somehow his high-priced attorney got it down to an aggravated assault charge, and something else. I think it was a weapons charge or something.”

I'm stunned by this news. And I'm even more surprised that she's sitting here telling me as much as she is. Whenever it's come to members of her family, especially when it has anything to do with her brother, Sparks, and her male cousins, she's always been guarded and extremely protective of them, of what she says.

She looks away for a brief moment. “I know every family has their share of secrets. And you already know mine is no exception. But from what other family members have said, and from what I've gathered from overhearing some of Sparks' hushed conversations over the years, all of them niggas, Jaheim, Jasper, Dez, and about six other cousins of mine have done some real scary shit.”

Yeah like…

Kidnap, beat, and sexually assault me.

Molest you.

And attempt to rape and kill Booty.

My heart leaps in my throat. “Um, why'd Desmond beat her, his girlfriend, up like that?” The question is stammered. I bite the inside of my cheek, holding my breath.

Mona shifts in her seat. “I'm not really sure of all the details. But, from what I remember, he caught her in bed with another guy.”

I swallow back a wave of emotions pulsing through me as I look her in the eyes and ask, “And what happened to the nigga he caught her cheating with?”

I watch as her eyes shift nervously around the room before she finally lands them on me. She whispers, “They never found his body.”

My voice catches in the back of my throat. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Frantically, I start scrolling through my memory bank, drudging through snapshots of my last horrible night down in that basement, where I'd lost track of time, lost hope, lost every last piece of me—tied up, used up, and beaten up.

The basement door opens at the top of the stairs, and a bunch of loud, rowdy niggas come stomping down the stairs. In my mind's eye, I can see all of them, standing there in their different colored basketball shorts, talking shit and cat-calling as they grab their crotches and stroke their dicks.

As I'm sitting here quickly sorting through that sordid night, I'm now wondering why they didn't keep me blindfolded, why they'd allowed me to see as much of them as I did. Did they think I'd be too traumatized to remember anything else? Did they think I wouldn't get out of there alive? Or did they just not really give a fuck?

Red Shorts comes to view. His large hand is squeezing my face. A blunt dangles out of his mouth, smoke blowing in my face.
“Yo, ma, you pretty as fuck. But I will beat you the fuck up if you scrape, cut, or bite my shit, ya dig?”

Ohmygod…what if…?

I swallow. “Mona…w-w-what
if
…” I try to shake the thought out
of my head, but it sticks to the surface. Somehow it fits. Somehow it makes sense. Mona said it herself. She's practically admitted it. Her cousins, the
three
of them, are capable of almost anything. Jasper's already proven that. Jaheim's proven it.

“Bitch, I will fuckin' kill you…”

I can feel the blood draining from my face.

“What
if
what?” Mona pushes, her stare intently locked onto mine. Her eyes taking in the look of shock, then dread, plastered all over my face. “Pasha, what is it? Are you okay? You look like you're about to faint.”

I swallow hard. A burning feeling of panic slowly rises up in the pit of my stomach. “What
if
Desmond is…
was
…there, too? What if
he
was another one of those niggas forcing me to suck his dick?”

She gasps. Behind her stretched open lids, I think I see a flicker of possibility behind the fear in her eyes. She falls back in her seat, the color in her face draining.

“Ohgod, no.”

A bitch caught in a fire will either end up burnt, or eventually rise from the ashes…

“H
ey. Thanks for calling me back,” I say, flipping through tomorrow's appointments. I glance at my watch, checking the time. It's a little after eight-thirty in the evening. It's been a long day, but I'm energized. Having lunch in the city with Mona earlier was exactly what I needed. It gave me life. It gave me perspective. And most importantly, it gave me validation.

That my anger is justified.

That my need for justice is warranted.

That I've suffered long enough.

That reconciliation is not an option.

That retribution is the
only
way I'll ever be free.

“Ohmygod, no,” Mona shrieked when I told her that if I found out her cousin Desmond was also involved in any way with what had happened to me, that he was going to catch it, too. She did everything she could to keep it together. But the possibility of him being there is real. And I meant what I said.

I narrowed my eyes. “For his sake, Mona. I
hope
he wasn't involved. But if he was, he'll suffer the consequences along with everyone else. He's going to wish he'd never pulled his dick out and shoved in my mouth.”

She leaned forward. “Pasha, please tell me.” She blinks twice. Her hand goes up over her mouth, a look of terror in her eyes. She takes several deep breaths. “Ohmygod, Pasha,” she pushed out in a whisper. “You're
not
thinking about having any of them…
killed,
are you
?
”

I took a deep breath, mulled the question over in my head, then blew out my answer. “I don't know.”

“Ohmygod, Pasha. This is going to become one big bloody mess. It's bad enough JT's considered
missing
and his body might not ever be found.” She wiped tears, shaking her head. “I don't think my family will be able to handle any more tragic losses. I don't think
I
can. I love my cousins, Pasha—all of them. But I know they've done some grimy shit. I wasn't the one down in that basement. I can't even imagine what that was like for you.”

“It was
fucking
horrible, Mona. And something I'd never wish on anyone.” My eyes become narrow slits of rage. “What Jasper had done to me was brutal. Only a fucking wild animal would orchestrate the shit he pulled. And
anyone
who was callous and cold-hearted enough to want to participate needs to fucking pay, Mona. And they will. By whatever means necessary.”

“Why won't you just go to the police? Tell them everything you know. Let them niggas go to prison for what they did; especially now that he's threatened to kill you.”

My face was expressionless, my tone low and chilling. “No; I'm not trusting the police, or some jury to decide what any of their fates should be. From here on out, I'm going to become the judge and the jury. So going to prison for any of them niggas isn't an option until,
after
, I'm done with them; until every last one of them suffers so bad that they
beg
me to put them out of their misery. So the less you know, Mona, the better.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand, fighting back tears. “I'm scared to death, Pasha.”