The Tale of the Blood Diamond (6 page)

You can’t sell bruised produce to the customers! What kinda shit was that? Your product had to be in tiptop shape in this madly competitive world. There was only so much Clinique make-up could do for a swollen black eye. Lorenzo liked his women perfect, from the top of their heads down to their freshly pedicured feet. When he sent them out for a date, heads would stop and stare. He knew how a woman was supposed to walk, talk, smell and yell. He understood the art of femininity and the power of pussy. His mother, by example, had taught him well. Gloria knew how to work a man into submission, and Lorenzo saw her work magic, even in her older age, to keep a roof over their heads. Unlike his brother, he was more drawn to the females, while they hustled in the streets with dice and dope.

He wanted to be just like his brothers, but he couldn’t shake his attraction to the catty eyes of broken women, to the glitter in their words and wounds, to the way they sold dreams of desire between their legs and promised to take a man to heaven and back for a small fee, but a spiritual fortune. He’d became addicted to the street life, and for him, the street was a Queen dressed in gold and diamonds. Regardless of the torrid love affair, the death of Preacher forced everything to come to a screeching halt. Once his feet hit Baltimore soil, he didn’t waste time. He bought a large house for Carter’s stable, decked it out, and got their hair done — for the funeral, of course…

The ladies of the night paraded around, weeping and moaning in their corals, blacks and blues while Preacher’s widow, with her young, plain self, barely twenty-six, sat huddled with their four children clustered all around her shaking body as she mourned a man that most hated. Too damn bad she didn’t know Preacher had five other children about town or maybe she did, but simply didn’t give a shit. Lorenzo couldn’t tell and didn’t give it another thought. All he cared about was making sure the women, his home, and his cars looked good; and that his sister-in-law, nephews and nieces — the ones he knew of — were comfortable.

He took care of his kin. Blood was bond. The bills stayed paid, he did his duty, but now, he was trapped. He couldn’t let this stable go now that all but one of Preacher’s women chose him once he set foot in town. Lorenzo had a reputation that spanned county lines. They knew who the fuck he was before he’d even caught their attention, so they bowed down as if he were a king, and in his heart, he felt he was. Regardless of all of that, he had one main concern, and one only. He had to find out who killed his big brother. He was fighting an uphill battle, too, but that didn’t deter him.

The police couldn’t stop the bastard. No one could it seemed, but he had a funny feeling, he’d get his day in court with the son of a bitch. That sixth sense, the one his mother told him was an after-affect, the seed of evil from the yellow half-breed father of his, was deeply imbedded in him. From his part, he knew his father didn’t have shit to do with it; he’d gotten it from
her.
Regardless, this third eye was his best friend. It afforded him the luxury of seeing peoples’ true colors, of knowing when he was going to cash in on something that was rightfully his…and revenge
was
lawfully his all right. He’d extract it, make it do his bidding. After all, he was part of a legacy, the Gloria Carter legacy, and birthrights were meant to be infamous…

“We now introduce you to Sergeant Jayme Khrome!” someone belted as she opened the main lobby door to the building of the police station.

The room thundered with applause as Jayme sashayed dramatically, batting her lashes and taking a bow as she laughed and made her way to her paper-cluttered desk.  She fought mixed feelings regarding her recent promotion, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She hid her true mood, and she tried to concentrate on the bright side of the whole thing. After all, she wanted to make Lieutenant; this was just a stepping-stone to land her right at that very spot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Captain Jasper approached her, a big smile on his face.

“Uh, sitting down at my desk,” she said apprehensively, not certain what code she’d violated. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock. She wasn’t late. Matter of fact, she was eight minutes early. She looked back at him; the only sound was soft murmuring, coffee percolating, and men and a few women dressed in their blues milling about, getting ready to leave the precinct for the possible quiet and tranquility of first shift.

“No you’re not. That’s not your desk anymore.” He gently reached over and took her by the hand, ushering her up from her worn, hard wooden seat. He led her back into a small area formerly used for miscellaneous storage only to discover it had been cleaned out. A picture of a park in springtime hung on the wall, and a new computer sat on a shiny, red cherry desk. Jayme cupped her mouth with her palms, smearing her sheer gloss as she lunged forward, her heart thumping in exhilaration.

“It’s mine?” she squealed.

“You’re damn right.” He lightly laughed. “You deserve it, Jayme, and we all pitched in to get it ready for you this morning. I’ll have Kirt and Danny move your stuff in here.”

Just then, she noticed a blue and white shiny box. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“You didn’t.” She smirked as she pointed to the damn thing with the pretty silver bow.

“We did…burger cookies. Knock yourself out.” And with that, he shut the door, leaving her alone to devour the shortbread, fudge-covered goodness in a single gulp. Jayme slumped down in her chair and ran her fingers along the gorgeous wood grain of her desk. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. The room was stuffy; the size of a kid’s closet, but it was all hers. She’d make it grand. She looked behind her towards the small window. She was underground, so there wasn’t much to see except the bottom of trees and debris brushed up against skinny pipes and a desolate sidewalk. She sighed, grateful to at least be provided a slither of light. Out there on the main floor, they received little illumination due to a lack of windows. A tall, old, dark green file cabinet with chipped paint covered in silver knicks stood on the far right side of the room. She surmised all of her paperwork was in there; years and years of research and cases. She kept her own copies of everything she’d had her hand in, for she felt it imperative. Startled by the echo of the phone ringing on her desk, she jumped in her seat. She picked it up, a sheepish grin as she answered.

“Sergeant Khrome speaking…”

“I’d like to file a citizen’s complaint!” came a deep voice, full of mirth.

Jayme closed her eyes, swiveled in her chair and crossed her legs, shaking her head back and forth.

“You nut.”

“You love me anyway though…” he teased.

“Of course.”

“Now that I’m back in town, I think we need to celebrate your promotion.”

“Oh, Xzion, I can’t, baby. I have so much to do today! I still need to meet with the guys this afternoon. I have over thirty reports from yesterday that I need to review and unfortunately, I have to take one guy off the street and put him on desk duty while we investigate a
real
complaint. Unfortunately, thus far, it has merit.”

“Hmmm.” Xzion groaned into the phone, making her throat quake from the depth of his tone. “So, you think he did it?”

“Mmmmm.” She shook her head and ran her finger along the coiled, black phone chord. “My gut tells me yes, but that the story is exaggerated. It’s a real shame, because we can’t afford to lose any more cops right now, but…” She shrugged. “We also can’t have officers abusing people simply because they are angry and lose their cool.”

“Well, I suppose I will have to check you out later.” He sighed on the other end, causing her guilt to morph into something huge. She’d felt so neglectful. She and Xzion barely had time to speak in the last two weeks, let alone cuddle and love on one another. She could tell he was getting restless and in his protests, he declared he was going through withdrawal. She laughed at him, not taking the constantly horny bastard seriously, but then, she became suspicious that he hadn’t been playing around with her at all as a bit more time passed. Xzion’s weight had dropped again. This was the second time in their marriage she’d noticed it.

The first time he’d complained of not receiving enough intimate affection, she had been running a two week shift due to a prolific band of thieves terrorizing the neighborhood. The little free time she did have, she spent with Zachary. Xzion had no complaints about that, but he sure did as it pertained to their sex life. Initially, she shrugged it off, knowing she’d make it up to him. She was in just as much need as he was — but seemed to have better control over the matter. Now, here it was happening again and something dark tinged his voice and eyes when he was in her presence.

Initially, she thought it could be because of this mess he was dealing with concerning Zarkstorm and the recent murders in the alleyway… Yes, the alleyway, another matter she had to deal with. However, even though the streets were currently quiet, he was not. His sleeping pattern had changed; he would sigh and gasp as if having nightmares. He explained to her he wasn’t having nightmares at all, that it wasn’t the cause for his distress. He’d told her many times before, with a smile on his face, that he was addicted to her, and he seemed to grow angry when she didn’t believe him — when she acted as though she thought he was telling a simple joke. He wasn’t though, and she realized he was telling the truth…

“Look baby, I will take off tomorrow, okay?” she offered, yet again thinking better of her initial dismissal.  She needed to take care of her man, no matter how much she had to do and how tired she was. He deserved better than this. “It will be just you and me. Can we do that?”

“Sure,” he said in a clipped tone. He didn’t sound sincere, happy or relieved. It sounded just what it more than likely was; a response simply to not be rude and have her offer go unanswered.

“Well…okay. If you need anything, give me a call.”

“I
do
need something, and I already called you and told you.” His voice was cold, sent chills up her spine. Yet still, he turned her on. Her checks flushed with heat. She was now a B.W.B. - Black Woman Blushing…

“Xzion.” She sighed. “Please don’t act like —”

She was cut off mid-sentence as the door swung open and two officers, sweating and grunting, hauled boxes inside of her cubby of a space.

“Khrome!” one strained, only his arms visible. “Where ya want it?!”

“Xzion, baby, I gotta —”

“…Go. I know. Hug yourself for me.” And he disconnected the call. Jayme swallowed and looked at the phone, confusion spreading inside of her.

“Uh, Danny, you can set those right over there in the corner, love.” She grinned. For the next few moments, she sat at her desk while the men disappeared and reappeared with more of the same. Work was keeping her away from her man, and he was just as busy as she, as of late. With Xzion’s new assignment that he wasn’t giving too many details on, much to her dismay, they were losing their tight connection. Something had to be done about it. Besides Zachary and her brother Jayson, he was the most important person in her life.

I’ll make this right, baby. I promise…

***
*

Xzion stood shirtless by his front door. One bare foot propped over the other, he leaned out the doorway, inhaling the fresh morning air.  More snow was coming, and he was looking forward to it. He jammed his thumb into a loop of his dark blue, loose fit jeans, sniffed as if he were catching a cold, and turned towards Zachary who loitered in the background. The young child grasped a large white rubber ball and walked bowlegged from one end of the foyer to the other.

Zachary had started hobbling at six months of age and walking well by eight. This was normal Zarkstormian behavior, but not human baby behavior, especially since he spoke in short sentences, and most of his baby teeth were already in. Jayme didn’t know much about small child development, but she knew this was abnormal. Her sighs of concern didn’t go unnoticed and Zachary’s daycare center teacher found the tiny tot truly astounding. Xzion had tried to assure her that he would be fine.

He’d warned her before their son’s birth that his development would be this way, and though the Zarkstormian medical exam conceded he was not a warrior, despite his warrior lineage, Xzion had doubts. There was something about Zachary that he could
feel
, connect with on a deeper level, and to him, it felt ‘warrior.’ He had a hypothesis. His human side was hiding it. The information was buried deep within the toddler, and it would take special testing to extract it. He could look in the boy’s eye and see it; though the visual exam showed no three-fold laser, he still believed it was there, and may reveal itself later. One of the boy’s eyes glowed a bit brighter than the other, like all warrior children…

“Zachary. Come here.” Xzion smiled down at his son who now maneuvered towards him. Holding the ball possessively, the little boy looked up at him, dark eyes glowing under the soft, yellow lights. Xzion reached down and picked him up. “You’re getting rather heavy. I take it you liked the spaghetti I fixed you for dinner last night, right?” He ran his thumb affectionately down the baby’s chin and backed away from the front door, allowing the screen to slam behind them. Making his way down the hall and into the kitchen, he flipped the switch. It bathed them in harsh, sterile light, like a medical examining room. Zachary whimpered. He covered his eyes with a tiny, puffy palm, and lowered his black, curly covered head farther into his father’s bare chest.

“Heeeey.” Xzion ran his hand over the boy’s curls then turned the light back off. They stood in practical darkness. The windows weren’t drawn open, and the reflection from the large, stainless steel appliances was the only light that gave much perspective. “I’ve noticed the light has been bothering you lately. I want to check your eyes later.”

He made a note to do such as he begun to prepare the boy breakfast. Keeping his son steady on one hip, he dipped low; retrieving a pan, then hummed a song as he grabbed various items from the refrigerator. He cracked eggs into the skillet, stirring them expertly with his one free hand while entertaining Zachary all the while. The boy looked into his face and grinned, occasionally laughing at the silly faces Xzion was making. After he was finished, he displayed the boy’s feast on the counter: a bowl of raisin oatmeal, two scrambled eggs and four slices of toast. Last but not least was a steak for Daddy, rare, bloody and ready for his consumption. He sat Zachary down in his high chair, turned on the radio and scooted the food towards his son. The boy picked up the spoon and ate like an adult, digging into his bowl and scooping the oatmeal in his mouth. Jayme had complained that their son had grown unusually quiet as of late. It was true. The seventeen-month old didn’t talk as much as he did previously and now when he did, the words were much clearer. The baby babble was disappearing and he seemed to deliberate before uttering anything, much like his father.

Xzion and his son ate quietly, an understanding growing between the two. It was interesting for him to see his son’s human side, like the loud laughter at cartoons, which Zachary still very much enjoyed. He liked balls, trucks and cars. The Zarkstormian side showed in his mannerisms. He was rather robotic, extremely observant and didn’t cry a lot. Matter of fact, if Zachary cried, that meant he was in a world of pain. Otherwise, he sat like a perfect solider during his medical exams and when a needle was presented, he rarely flinched. He didn’t care for sweets. This was a common Zarkstormian trait. And he took an immediate liking to anything electronic and with buttons. After all, his brain worked pretty much the same way. After breakfast, Xzion scooped up his offspring and carted him into his lab.

“I was going to wait until tonight, but I’ve got plans this evening, so...” He strapped Zachary down on a small exam table and snapped his gloves on. “I want to see your eyes, son. I want to see what is going on in there.”

“Tell me about your eyes…” He drew closer to his child, so close, their noses almost touched as he examined him closely, scanning him.

“Hurt,” the little boy offered in his soft, sweet voice.

“Your eyes hurt?” Xzion asked calmly, trying to gain clarification.

“One.”

“Just one? I’m going to point to one of your eyes. Say ‘yes’ if that is the one that hurts.”

Zachary nodded in understanding. Xzion pointed to the left one. The baby didn’t respond. Xzion smirked. He pointed to the right one. The boy nodded.

“Yes.”

“Very good. Now. Daddy wants to take a look.” Xzion scooted closer to his son and pulled gently on the edges of the eye, expanding it. The glossy pink membranes exposed, he looked deeper and closer, not noticing anything unusual. Sighing, he reached and grabbed his monocular ophthalmoscope. Xzion cleared his throat, and moved the instrument up and down and side to side, slowly scanning the entire eyeball. So far, the boy’s eye appeared to be just like his mother’s. He placed his instrument back down, then grabbed the binocular scope, doing the same, tracing the back of the eye. A smile formed and grew until he was lightly laughing. He placed the instrument down. Lowering his head, he shook it, amused and elated.