Brick (Double Dippin') (37 page)

Anya tugged the long, flowing scarf from around Horatio’s thick neck and stuffed it inside his mouth. Wild-eyed and bucking his body, Horatio made a futile attempt to escape his fate.

Brick reached inside his boot and pulled out a dagger. Brick walked briskly toward Redbone.

Surprised, Redbone recoiled. “Any last words, bitch?”

“I didn’t hurt that girl. Horatio did it. He’s the one that’s supposed to die—not me!”

“Whatever, trick,” Brick said, coldly. He grabbed a handful of butterscotch ringlets and yanked her head back.

“No…wait! Please!” Redbone scratched and fought to no avail. A slash across her throat sent blood spurting from the gash, closing her eyes forever.

Horatio had been momentarily captivated by the sight of blood pulsing from Redbone’s gaping neck. So much blood. Gushing like a geyser. Horatio gave a sigh of relief that Redbone had been sacrificed instead of him.

“Now it’s your turn, nigga,” Brick promised as he made strides toward the man that he’d skewered. From his other boot, Brick withdrew his Asian-style knife.

Terror once again filled Horatio’s eyes. He erroneously thought that he’d been given a reprieve. Groaning like a madman, he shook his head wildly from side to side.

Brick shot a dark look at Horatio. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get some justice for Misty. Not only did you ruin her life, you destroyed the only family that I ever had. Now it’s time for retribution.” Brick released a sigh. “This is gon’ be long and painful. I’ma take my time.” Brick closed his eyes blissfully. “Gon’ savor every moment.”

Brick gave Horatio a close look at his two sharp weapons. “You like competing with females, so I’ma help you out. Give you some surgery on your genitals. Turn you into the bitch that you are.” Brick paused and began cutting open the crotch of Horatio’s tight jeans. Horatio bucked upward, ripping flesh from his impaled hands.

“Calm down, Horatio,” Anya joined in, rubbing the perspiration
from Horatio’s forehead in a feigned act of tenderness. “We can’t have you bleeding to death while you’re on the operating table. You gotta be still while the doctor works on you.”

“Now listen up while I explain the procedure. My nurse over here is gonna get rid of your dick and your nutt sac.” Brick paused while Horatio went wild again, frantically trying to rip his hands away from the hardwood floor.

“Don’t worry, I’ma free your hands up after I slice off every one of your fingers,” Brick assured him. “After that, I’ma amputate your toes. But it’s your lucky day, mufucka. You’re getting a face peel—no charge. You gonna look refreshed and so damn pretty after I slowly peel all the skin off your fuckin’ face.”

Brick handed Anya a knife. “Do your thing, mama.”

As Anya went to work, Brick whispered in the suffering man’s ear. “I’m getting ready to fillet you like a fish, mufucka. And then gut you like a pig.”

Horatio was dead long before Brick got a chance to cut his belly open. Splattered with the dead man’s blood, Brick and Anya escaped through a window. In the cover of darkness, they jogged to the rental car, satisfied.

“This is where we part, baby.”

“No!” Anya was horrified by the suggestion.

“Have to,” Brick said, firmly. “I gotta turn myself in. Serve whatever time they wanna give me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“For my son. I can’t keep running. I can’t let my flesh and blood grow up thinking that I deserted him. I have to own up to what I did to Misty. I figure, the sooner I get it over with and do the time, the quicker I’ll get to be with my son.

“Even if he hates me…I at least want the opportunity to tell him that I love him. That I’m here for him.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Anya said. “But why do we have part ways? I can help you. Get you a good lawyer—”

“Nah, you don’t understand,” Brick interrupted.

“I understand that I love you. Even if you end up having to do a bid, it won’t be that long. I’ll wait for you, babe. Visit you and keep money on your books. I would never abandon you while you’re down. I got your back. You know I do.”

Brick solemnly nodded. “C’mere, baby,” he said, his arms stretched out.

Crying, Anya stepped into his arms.

“Remember when you told me, ‘no strings attached?’”

Sniffling, Anya nodded.

“Well, I’m holding you to your word. We both got the revenge we were yearning for. Now it’s time to move on.”

“But…I thought—”

Brick interrupted her. “Concentrate on finding your pop. A while back, you mentioned hiring a detective. You have a lot of money now. You can get a top-notch private investigator. Someone experienced with tracking down missing people.”

“You’re right,” she reluctantly agreed.

“As for me…” He paused. “I gotta do everything in my power to reestablish the bond between me and my son. He’s only a toddler. I gotta do this jail time so I can hurry up and get back with my son.”

“Are you sure you’re not trying to impress your wife…you know, a last-ditch effort to save your marriage?”

“No. It’s over between Thomasina and me. I know that for a fact. She’ll never forgive me. And I accept that.”

“Can we be friends—you know, stay in touch?” Anya asked, her voice cracking a little.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. What’s done is done. Why drag it out?”

Anya couldn’t argue with Brick’s reasoning. As badly as it hurt, she had no choice but to let him go.

Realizing that law enforcement had most likely been provided with their descriptions, the pair decided to travel separately.

Brick took a flight out of Las Vegas to Philadelphia.

Disguised in a long wig, Anya drove to Las Vegas. From Vegas, she planned to book a trip to Trinidad. Maybe she’d luck up and connect with family members on her mother’s side. And
hopefully, a private investigator could reunite her with her missing father.

Separating from Brick hurt like losing a limb. Tears welled.
No more tears!
She wiped her eyes. From the very beginning, Anya had realized that she and Brick would eventually part ways.

B
efore turning himself in, Brick wanted to say goodbye to Misty. Brick walked into the hospital with a heavy heart. He was barred from visiting her, but with nothing to lose, it was worth the chance to attempt to slip in. He was surprised when none of the hospital staff tried to prevent him from entering Misty’s room.

Misty!
There she was, lying in the hospital bed, surrounded with all sorts of equipment that facilitated her tenuous hold on life. Looking around the room, he noticed a vase filled with flowers, and knew that they were placed there by her mother. Knowing Thomasina, she probably brought fresh flowers every day, hoping to somehow brighten her daughter’s day.

Brick gazed at Misty and winced. She was so frail and helpless. He’d really screwed up. Misty had wanted the peace of death, but here she was after all this time, still alive but comatose.

As broken and tortured as she’d been, her previous condition seemed a lot better than this.

A deep, damning shame came over Brick as he drew closer to Misty. Gloomily, he sank in the chair next to her bed. He looked at Misty’s shrunken face. Her complexion was a sickly shade of gray. She seemed barely alive.

Brick shook his head hopelessly. “Misty. This is not… I’m so sorry,” he uttered, giving a halted, mumbling apology.

He couldn’t blame Thomasina for hating his guts. There was
no getting around the truth; he’d screwed up what was left of Misty’s life and had destroyed his marriage.

He’d assumed that getting revenge on Misty’s assailant would bring some relief from his inner turmoil, but he was still a tortured soul. Brick pictured himself being handcuffed and, instead of resisting the idea, he welcomed it. He needed to pay for what he had done and deserved to be arrested. He should be put underneath the jail!

Distraught, Brick covered his face with both hands and silently wept.

A painful moan that was followed by the sound of difficult breathing entered his awareness. Brick hadn’t made a sound; his sobs had been muffled by his hands. Confused, he pulled his hands away and looked around. He glanced at Misty, and noticed her facial muscles forming into a frown.

“Misty?” he whispered with urgency.

Her eyes blinked and then opened. Brick shot up from the chair and hovered over her. “Misty,” he repeated her name again, this time in a hushed, awestruck tone.

Her eyes moved back and forth, taking in the surroundings. Her lips moved.

Brick grabbed the call button and pushed it repeatedly.

“Brick,” Misty mouthed, gazing at his face.

“Misty, baby. You’re back!” Brick lifted her contracted hand to his lips, kissing it prayerfully with tightly closed eyes.

His prayer of gratitude was interrupted by Misty’s raspy and barely audible voice. “Water, please.”

The water that Brick quickly provided quenched Misty’s great thirst and soothed her parched vocal chords.

Finally able to speak, though haltingly, she said, “Didn’t want to come back. Shane said…not my time.”