Addicted In Cold Blood (37 page)

“Make sure you take the gun out of there, too...” He opened his mouth to say more, but decided against it. Instead, he turned away from her and opened his wrist to disarm the front entranceway. It clicked, and the entire house flooded in bright blue light. Facing her again, he found her adjusting to the sudden deluge of cerulean. She opened the bag, removed a pair of jeans and a sweater and quickly dressed. Reaching inside again, she grabbed a pair of socks and shoes, surveyed the revolver and clutched it, pushing it into the back of her pants. Finally, she stood and regarded him cautiously while she finished dressing in rapid speed.

“Goodbye, Jayme...”

She grabbed a hooded coat, the wad of cash and raced to the open front door, without saying a word...

*
***

Xzion leaned over the kitchen sink, his stomach in knots. It had been three days and six hours since she’d left his home. His computers buzzed, Aton’s messages remained unplayed, uncared for and unanswered. He turned from the sink and ran a hand down his face. Before her, he’d never cared about how someone felt...

Before her, he’d never questioned his birthright.

Before her, he’d never longed for someone.

And the shit hurt. He refused to give into it. He fought, tried to keep his resolve, tried to act as if he was okay, but everything around him proved otherwise.

Unmade bed, cocooned inside the house—a small part of him hoped the fucking FBI knew he was there now. He even debated letting them kill him. It would be a sweet death, a chance for him to be out of misery or he could enjoy one final showdown and tear them to shreds, take all of his anxiety out on them—it was their fault, after all. The second notion made a maniacal laugh, tinged with heartbreak and rage, erupt from his core. He slowly negotiated the hall to the bedroom and slid under the sheets. He grabbed the pillow, inhaling it...

It still smells like her...

He hugged it, clutched it, forgetting to breathe for some moments...

He gasped for air...

She takes my fucking breath away...

He looked up at the ceiling and cursed. Glancing across the room, he spotted the mixed CD he’d made for her. He got up and played it, listened to the songs that they’d made love to so many times.

Pretty Ricky sang, ‘Make It Like It Was’, then Nivea crooned, ‘Complicated’—the electric guitar riff was his favorite part...

Jayme, I loved you enough to let you go. I can’t keep you a prisoner here. Hell, you stopped asking, I figured you wanted to stay...told me you loved me, had nowhere else to go. We’re from two different worlds, but my heart belongs to you, baby. I just hope you’re safe, wherever you are becauseif something happens to you, I’ll know who did it...and I will make them regret the day they were ever born.

He pushed down the prickly, tangled emotions, sneered at his image in the mirror, gripped his nightstand lamp and cast it with all of his might, shattering the vanity glass into serrated bits. He drew his knees upward to his heaving chest then ran his fingers through his hair, now twisting from the new grown length. The music continued to play, making him hate himself even more.

He now had new emotions to conten
d with. Grief. Mourning. Loss. And it hurt so fucking bad, like a toothache in the pit of his damn chest.

If she knew what I really am, she’d hate me even more...just leave her alone...you should have known you couldn’t have her, that it would come to this...

Aton was calling his phone; he turned away from it, brought the sheets over his head and lost himself in a series of dreams, all of them of his beloved Jayme...

****

The wind whipped through Jayme’s untamed tresses. Pulling the gray hoodie down over her head, she prayed that no one would recognize her as she surveyed the large red brick apartment building across the way. Her brother, Jayson, lived there and it was a wish on a star that he was actually home and better yet, sober enough to open the damn door, let her inside, and allow her to unleash what the hell had happened in the last sordid six months. The last few nights had been brutal. She understood that Xzion was not who she thought he was or wanted him to be—but she felt confident he hadn’t lied to her. But he simply refused to answer questions, which to her, at this point, made him just as guilty. She’d had a nightmare as she slept in a park for a couple of hours, trying to figure out her next move—how to claim her life back.

The two brains were alive and moving, just as they were when she’d laid eyes on them. She watched them pulsating, and though they looked like human brains, they were actually a bit larger. Nevertheless, the wires and electrodes sticking out of the gray matter made her stomach twist. She didn’t have the time to sit back and think about how much she missed the monster behind the scenes, torturing herself with ‘what ifs’ and how could he live that way? Where those brains of his victims and who the hell did he work for that would require him to do something so despicable and grotesque?  She pushed the disturbing memories out of her mind, shoved her hand in her pocket and made her away across the street. Soon, she was at Jayson’s apartment entrance way, punching the buzzer with her dirty index finger.

“Come on, goddamn it,” she muttered under her breath. She heard commotion in the dingy lobby. Old concert and club promo posters dotted the walls with promises of free drinks after twelve and a DJ who would spin all the latest beats. She lowered her head under the fluorescent light.

Two scantily-clad women laughed boisterously, one knocking into her then turning back—“Sorry baby!” the woman cackled, and continued on her way, her friend’s arm folded tightly around her.

Jayme buzzed once again and heard the husky voice come over the static-filled reception.

“Who tha fuck is ringing my goddamn bell at three in the morning!” Jayson roared. It wasn’t a question but a statement—and he was ready for a fight from the tone of things.

“...Jayson, it’s me!” she whispered as loudly as possible, without drawing more attention to herself.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar click and she entered the stairway, the light from his open apartment door ushering her closer for reprieve.

*
***

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

There she was, in the flesh. She’d lost a bit of weight, but she looked healthy, unkempt, but in good form. Jayson grabbed her into his arms, and felt her shake in his grip. He was speechless, and desperately tried to get control of himself. He needed answers, but he was so happy to see that his little sister was alive.

“We thought you were dead!” he gripped her to him, squeezing her tight.

After a while, they made themselves more comfortable.

Jayson propped his feet up on his blood red chaise. Behind him were matching sheer curtains, tied with black silk ribbons.  Jayme recognized them; they were a house warming gift from his favorite little sister, many years ago. She was surprised to see them up, he’d said they were garish, not his taste—yet here they were, blending in perfectly with the fine Oriental rug from their grandmother and large, matching ivory vases. Jayson ran from homosexual stereotypes, one being that all gay men had design flair. He in fact did have impeccable style, but he didn’t want to be stigmatized with it, nor was he effeminate. Jayson was all man—handsome, smart, and would cut someone down like a tree if they hurt a person he loved, especially his little sister, the cop who pretended to need no protecting.

He picked up his cup of coffee from the clear table and took a slow, deliberate sip. Jayme removed her hood, exposing her disheveled tresses. They hadn’t laid eyes on each other in over six months.

“You...look so good, Jayson.” Her eyes focused on him.

“Been sober for four months...” He coughed, avoiding her gaze and readjusted himself on the seat—all six feet, four inches and two hundred and thirty pounds of him. “Instead of me thinking your death was going to kill me, drive me deeper into my addiction, it made me want to get my life together. I knew how upset you were, how you told me I was wasting my life away. That’s all I could think about when the police told me you’d gone missing. Haven’t drank even a beer or snorted a damn thing in all that time.”

Jayme sat still, a whirl of emotions playing havoc inside of her. She’d waited to hear this so long—but why couldn’t she feel happiness?

Xzion…

“Jayme, I’m glad you’re alive but there is no explanation you’ve given as to why you didn’t give a phone call, nothing!” And now the anger poured out. She hadn’t been inside his home for more than fifteen minutes. He offered her food and a hot beverage, which she readily accepted, the crumbs around her mouth from the left-over bacon wraps and biscuits were the proof. She wasn’t prepared for this conversation, but it had to happen—he needed to know the truth, no matter how unbelievable it sounded, so, she told him everything.

When she finished, he was sitting so close to her, she could smell the red cinnamon gum on his breath. Big Red, just like when they were little.

He caressed her hand, his long, dark brown fingers cupping hers. He kissed her cheek and looked at her with love, clearly trying to collect himself.

“You know, no one really knew what assignment you were working on. Wanda told us it had something to do with the ‘XXX’ murderer. She said you were excited about a new top secret assignment and we figured...well, you’d suffered like the rest of the people that ran into him. Regardless, I believe everything you’ve told me.” He crossed his ankles and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.

“You do?” Her eyes watered, certain he was going to tell her that
she
was now the family drug addict—coming up with such tall tales.

“Yes, I do. There are strange going-ons in this world, Jayme. I’ve always told you that.”

“But you’re an old soul, I just figured you got that from Grandma and thought it was sage advice.” She smiled as she took another sip of her coffee.

He grinned and patted her leg. “So, I take it, it wouldn’t be wise for you tell Mama and Dad that you’re still alive, even though I am sure they are going crazy with grief...not that they gave  a damn about anyone but themselves, but I refuse to stoop to their level. They should be told you are okay, if you can, that is.” He rose to his feet.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t be smart. At this point, I just need to lay low. I would like to go to my apartment and get my things, but I’m sure all of my stuff is gone by now, and the place rented out to someone else.”

“Nope. Mama and Wanda packed everything up and put it in storage. I offered to help, but of course Mama rejected my offer, saying Dad might come by later.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess I’d have to show him my weekend pass from Hell, since that’s where he thinks I reside. Thank God for these flame retardant pants!”

Jayme smiled weakly. “Yes, and he is dead wrong, Jayson. Worse yet, I was wrong for not standing up to them for you. I’m sorry, Jayson.”

“Why do you always do this?” He shook his head. “Jayme,” he sighed, “you were a kid then. I don’t care about any of that.
They
were adults, I am
their
son, they should’ve known better. Anyway, enough of that—we need to get you squared away. You know you can stay here...let me call into work and tell them I need a sick day.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Where else would I have you go? You’re my sister and I love you. Now listen,” he pointed to her, “I know you said you and this...Jesus Christ, I don’t even know what to call this man...my head is still reelin’ that you’ve been up in this lunatic’s crib this whole damn time but anyway…”

“I know, I know.” She hung her head, gripping her warm cup with all of her might and staring down into the dark brown beverage.

“Don’t go doing anything, foolish. You said you and he had a plan for the agents that roped you into this mess.  I don’t know what inside track he had, and though I’d like to strangle them with my bare hands, I don’t want you getting into any further trouble.  This guy, Xzion, is dangerous, Jayme. I don’t know what it is like to be a hostage either, to have been kidnapped, especially by someone like
that.
You’ve been through a lot. I’m just glad you are here to tell the crazy ass story. I’m glad you did what you needed to do, to convince him that he could trust you. That’s the only reason you’re alive. You’re smart, always been smart. Let’s just think this through.”

Big brother, if you only knew...after a while, I wasn’t pretending anymore.

Jayme nodded and slid her shoes off and sighed with relief to remove them from her cramped toes.

“And you need some rest, to freshen up, get your mind together.”

“I know,” she chirped, grinning sheepishly. “I will, just needed a place to fall apart in.”

“Let me get you set up. Of course I can’t get your money. The bank accounts are frozen and since I can’t tell Mama, ain’t shit I can do about it, but...”

“He gave me some money, I’m good.”

Jayson’s brow rose. “This shit gets stranger by the minute. We will discuss this further but you need some good rest first.”

Jayme nodded and heard her brother enter into the nearby small bathroom, bustling around, picking out linens and soap. She hated herself for thinking about Xzion at that moment, missing him. She was hoping she could get over it soon, but was doubtful.