RedBone 2 (18 page)

 

 

“You’re driving too fast, boy!” Farah screamed at the top of her lungs. “Slow down ’fore you get us killed!”

He didn’t decrease his speed.

“Let me out!” She laughed. “Please!”

After Farah snatched the steering wheel to the right, Bones brought the two-seated go-kart to a slow roll and parked. Laughing at her nervousness, he removed his helmet and held out his hand to help her out.

She removed her helmet and accepted his hand. “I should kick your ass. I see already you like to play too much.” She stood up and dusted the back of her blue jeans off.

“Promises, promises.” He chuckled as they walked to the counter and returned their equipment before walking toward his white Lexus. He opened the door for her and she slid inside. “Hungry? After all that yelling you did, your throat should at least be dry.”

She playfully hit him on the arm. “I’m a little hungry, but thanks to you, I am thirstier.” She smiled. “I think you were just doing that shit to hear me scream.”

“I can’t lie. I do love a good scream.”

As he slid into traffic, she couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that she was going on a date with someone other than Slade. Although she loved everything about Bones, including his long dreads, dark chocolate complexion, and the way he carried himself, there was still a lot of mystery surrounding him.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“First we gonna hook up with Mayoni and Carlton, and then we gonna grab something to eat. After that, the night is on you. Why? You got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

She shrugged. “Not really.” She looked at her hands. “I’m kind of feeling this time we have alone. We been hanging out, but I don’t really know anything about you. Can you tell me about yourself? Whatever you want me to know.”

“What you want to know, Farah Cotton?”

She swallowed. “Can you tell me about your life in Crescent Falls?”

He moved a little around in the driver’s seat. “What you want to know about it? It was so long ago, and I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about me.”

“Why were you there? And were you . . .”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t castrated. I’m definitely still intact.” Farah appeared relieved. “I knew eventually you would ask me about that place, but I hoped I’d have more time to explain to you.” He sighed. “I was one of the first fifteen that Dr. Weil was talking about.”

“Why were you in there?”

“I grew up thinking there was something wrong with me because I loved inflicting pain on my girlfriends when I was in high school. It was always consensual, but one day, my girlfriend’s mother walked in and caught us fucking in her room. I had one of her father’s ties wrapped around her neck and was fucking her from behind. She was loving it.” He grinned, recalling the event. “But her mother didn’t. And instead of fessing up that we’d played that game at least fifteen times before, she claimed I raped her. I was arrested, and everything I owned, in my room, was searched. They were trying to figure out what caused me to act that way.” He shook his head. “My parents were popular in the political community, and they didn’t want the flack, so to their minds, it was easier to send me away and not deal with it at all. That was ten years ago”—he sighed—“when I was seventeen. I’m twenty-seven now, and I haven’t seen my family since.” He looked over at her. “So what’s your story?”

“I suffer from something called porphyria. All my life. My family members suffer from it too, but they seemed to do okay on the medicine the doctor gave them. It never quite worked for me.” She paused. “Well, one day I met with Grand Mike, and he gave me my first taste of blood, and everything about my life changed at that moment. I felt complete, I felt right, and I never looked back.”

“You grow up in a violent home?”

“Yes.” She thought about Brownie. “Very violent.”

“So it’s not about the pain with you. It’s about the blood?”

“Yes.” She looked over at him. “So what is it for you?”

“Administering pain. Always.” His eyes stayed on the road. “Do you think you could ever be a Slave?”

She shrugged. “I never thought about it before. I guess I would be willing to try. For you.”

They continued down the road until they met up with Mayoni and Carlton in the restaurant parking lot. Both of them wore huge grins on their faces as they approached Bones and Farah. “You haven’t looked at the news today, have you, Farah?”

Farah shook her head no. Carlton whipped out his phone and showed her a news article about a twenty-something female who was found on the side of the road with her throat slit. That part of the story was ordinary. There was always some dead girl on the side of the road. What stood out was the victim’s name: Rhonda Marshall.

Farah looked up at them and met their grins. “Are you serious?” They leaned against the car and chuckled. “Wow, you guys work fast, don’t you?”

“You haven’t seen—”

Before Carlton could finish his sentence, a bullet whizzed between Carlton and Farah, removing the tip of his nose. He dropped to the ground and released the .45 on his hip. The driver in a black car bombarded the area where they stood with bullets. Firing in the direction of the shooter, Carlton had one mission: to kill. Not alone in his quest, Bones and Mayoni matched his shots blow for blow to put down whoever wanted them dead.

Farah hid behind a car and did her best to avoid getting killed, but the loud noises of the gun popping off didn’t put her at ease. When Bones stood up and moved toward the car, aiming in the driver’s direction, it was only then that she lifted from her spot. Suddenly it was quiet and no one was shooting. The driver was dead, and the windows were splattered with blood.

“Fuck!” Carlton said, holding his nose as blood poured from his face. “Who the fuck was that?”

Farah was just as shocked as they were, until she saw someone opening the car door and taking off running. When the person turned around and she saw her face, she felt faint. It was the person she’d been looking for the past few months—Eleanor McClendon.

A rage like she hadn’t felt in a while crept over her, partly because instead of going into hiding, Eleanor had come after her. And secondly because she knew she could never tell her new friends that someone she knew was involved, for fear that they would blame her and cut her off. It was settled. No matter what she had to do, she was going to kill Eleanor McClendon, even if it was with her bare hands.

 

 

Although it was cool outside, Elise had all of the windows to her apartment wide open. She did it whenever company came over, knowing that not too many could deal with the natural scent of her body. In all honesty, she didn’t want to be speaking to her present guest anyway, but wanted one last attempt to talk some sense into him.

They were sitting at an old wooden table in the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?” Elise asked Dr. Martin. “I just made a fresh pot.”

“It smells delicious.” He rubbed his arms for warmth. “Yes, I’ll take a cup. Although I like mine with cream and no sugar.”

Elise stood up and opened the refrigerator. “Will milk do?”

He smiled. “Of course.” He rubbed his arms again. “Is there any reason why you have all of the windows open?”

“Is there any reason you keep interrogating my family, after getting all of the information that you needed already from Farah?” She made the cups of coffee.

“I really wish you didn’t look at it that way, although I understand why you would.”

When both of them held cups of coffee in beautiful pink mugs, Elise got to the question at hand. “And the windows are open for your comfort, not mine.”

“If it’s because of your odor, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve been knowing you for years and understand your concern.”

Elise closed all of the windows and sat back at the table. “What can I do for you, Dr. Martin? You seemed very upset on the phone earlier today.”

“I am upset.” He took a sip. “I spoke to the officer again when she called me to follow up, and she admits to applying for a room in Farah’s apartment. What she didn’t admit to is harassing her. In fact, she claims Farah’s friends pulled her over at a gas station and threatened her life.” He wiped his finger along the rim of the cup. “I guess I can’t understand why you and your family can’t seem to see what’s going on with Farah. It’s so obvious that she’s out of control and exhibiting signs of psychosis. I mean, are you okay with your granddaughter hurting other people?”

Elise sighed heavily. “Me and my family are my business, Dr. Martin. I can’t understand what you want me to say differently about it. If Farah says she isn’t hurting anyone, than she isn’t. I mean, does the authorities have proof?”

“It’s not what I want you to say, it’s what I want you to do.”

“Dr. Martin, like I told you at my granddaughter’s house, there was a misunderstanding on what I shared with you, and now you’re taking things out of context.”

He shook his head in disgust.

“Even if I wanted to control her I couldn’t. She’s an adult.”

He placed his cup down. “I believe you have more control over her than you realize.”

“What exactly do you want, Dr. Martin? If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a man beating around the bush.”

There was an eerie silence, a silence so long it felt like a third person was in the room. “I want you to have her committed. I have the information to a great facility that can assist her. There used to be another facility for people with her mental illness, called Crescent Falls, but it was dismantled many years ago.” He paused. “Anyway, Farah’s the first of her kind with this type of multiple diagnosis, and I think she could benefit if she was observed around the clock.”

“And what diagnosis is that? Far as I knew, you only treated her for porphyria.”

“You’re right, and I can’t be sure without seeing her that she has anything else, although I’m fairly positive. Elise, I believe she has porphyria and a touch of something called Renfield’s Syndrome.”

“What is that?”

“Renfield’s Syndrome is when someone believes that in order to survive, they must drink blood. It’s modern vampirism. I don’t know what happened in your granddaughter’s life, but she’s pretty delusional at this point. Was she raised up in a violent home?”

Elise thought about Brownie and Ashur. If they weren’t terrorizing people in the neighborhood, they were hurting people who they believed did them wrong. Of course they were violent. In fact, Ashur was in prison for killing a family of three, just because their son scratched his car. But in her opinion most black children grew up in less-than-savory environments and learned how to survive.

“My granddaughter wasn’t raised up in a home any more violent than other people. She had her problems, but then again, don’t we all? It doesn’t mean she needs to be committed.”

“Elise, to my understanding, her mother is dead.”

Elise wanted to jump across the table and snatch his throat out but she refrained.

“And, if that’s the case, you’re pretty much all she has left. She needs you. You are a strong woman, and I’m asking you to help me heal your granddaughter.”

“I’ll talk to her father,” Elise responded. “He’s in prison right now, but I don’t want to make a decision like this without him.”

He seemed irritated and twisted in his seat. “He can’t even make decisions for himself. How can he for her?” he asked in a serious tone. “She needs
your
help, Elise. The kind of help that an in-house facility could provide. And right now, I’m coming to you out of respect.”

“You want me to agree to have my granddaughter put in a facility over something she said to me over the phone? Are you that delusional?”

“She told you she was drinking blood. I know you said she was drunk when she shared the information, but I don’t believe it. A lot of people have gone missing in her building alone. This deserves some serious attention.” He looked at her with pleading eyes.

“Even if she is”—she swallowed—“drinking blood, how do you know she’s hurting people?

“Because nobody in their right mind would rightfully give up their blood. That’s why.”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “If she is drinking blood, she may have ran into someone who can provide. There are a lot of people out here who may have the same fetishes she does. Whatever the situation, it’s her life and she has the right to live it.” Elise pushed her coffee to the side. “Now, I know you’re concerned, but it’s time for you to let it go.” She sat back in her seat. “At this point, there is nothing else I can do.”

“You need to know that I will never forget what you told me that night on the phone. I haven’t told the officer yet, because I wanted to come to you and your family first.” He took another sip of coffee. “But what you said keeps me up late at night and ruined any chance of me having a normal life. I want peace, Elise, and I can’t have it knowing what your granddaughter is out there doing.”

“What does that mean?” She frowned, feeling violence wash over her.

“It means that I have a responsibility to let someone know. Now, I want to have her checked out by a licensed professional and, hopefully, committed willfully into a facility. If we don’t do it that way, the only other way I can think of is by contacting the authorities. I hope you understand, but you really leave me no other choice.”

Silence stood between them for an eternity. “Dr. Martin, I had Brownie when I was twelve years old. A teacher I cared about decided that he would teach me how to be a woman by taking my virginity. It was the worst experience of my life, prior to losing my daughter and grandchild.”

“I’m sorry—”

She put her hand up to silence him. “I don’t need sympathy.” Her hand dropped. “Before Brownie died, I shielded her from everything because I wanted her to be safe and never violated like I was. I was strict with her in some ways, lenient in others. I allowed her to say and see more things than she should have as a teenager and because of it, she developed a fucked-up sense of entitlement. Make no mistake, I feel responsible every day that my leniency may have been the cause of her murder. But yesterday I made a decision that nothing matters. My daughter is gone and my other grandchildren are still here, and I’m going to protect them to the best of my ability, and I won’t let you or anybody else get in the way of that. I hope I’m making myself clear.”

“And I want you to protect them, starting by getting Farah the help she needs. Don’t you see, Elise, we are saying the same things?”

“Dr. Martin, if you dumb enough to think that we saying the same thing, you need the help, not Farah.” She grinned. “I need you to stay far away from my family, so far that I won’t see or hear from you ever again.”

“What about Mia and Shadow? They have porphyria, which I have successfully treated for years.”

“Not a problem of yours anymore. This is my final warning, and another will not follow it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He backed up in his chair. “I have a feeling you are threatening me, and I don’t take well to threats.”

“And you should know that I’m making a promise. Stay away from Farah. Stay away from Mia. Stay away from Shadow, and stay away from me. I will do everything I can to see to it that Farah gets the help she needs, but it will be on my time.”

Dr. Martin stood up, drank the rest of his coffee, and set the mug back on the table. “Thank you for the coffee, Elise. I really appreciate it. It was the best I had in a long time.” He put his coat on. “You have a good day.”

“You do the same.”

She was certain that it wouldn’t be the last time she’d hear from him. But she put her warning into full effect, and whether he lived or died was all on him.