Excerpt: His neck had been snapped by her dainty satin gloved hands...Part I
Chapter
Three
Chazzmine
(The last pure blood cloud dancer)
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I mean there she was attired in finery equal the accommodations and it just wasn’t going as planned. She was supposed to be playing her own game; outsmarting her keeper at his own game, the ultimate double cross. Yet she’d only succeeded in proving herself a fool. Oh how she’d been so sure of herself, so cocky. How she’d smiled to herself in the mirror as she fixed her makeup and pondered her meticulously laid plans. She’d relished the every moment down to the care she took with her clothing.
She’d chosen a wispy yellow high how
low dress that hung low in the back with tattered swirls sweeping the floor.
The swirly tatters became shorter as they receded to the front creating a
sweeping effect that draped her small lush frame so well, displaying her
magnificent tawny legs. Her sun kissed red brown skin miraculously showed her
beat red blush as she flushed in frustration. Her loose waves of chestnut curls
began to frizz as her increased perspiration washed out her press and curl
while her eyes turned a midnight blue flecked with gray to match the night sky.
All her hard work went for naught.
Though she’d vowed upon tasting her
first bit of freedom that she’d part sea and Move Mountains to have it in full
measure there would be no escape today. She plopped back on the bed with her
arms raised gracefully and let the failure wash over her. She supposed the
failure was a relief. It couldn’t have been healthy to hope as fiercely as she
had as of late. She was snatched from her reverie as a loud crashing knock
sounded on the oaken door. Her keeper did not wait for an answer and it did not
matter to a man such as he that door had been locked.
He marched in and caught her
springing from the bed, heart in her throat. He was an uncommonly large
man, though his suit did hide his many pounds of lean muscle, he did have to
stoop to enter. The awkwardness did little to mare his eloquent grace. He moved
with assured fluidity; his handsome deep co-co features smooth and possessed of
a seemingly impossible gleam, honey eyes ablaze with fiery orange flecks. Those
blazing eyes swept the room and found the dead man then swung to her and
bespoke a ferocity that froze her on the spot.
Still he did not speak. Instead he
kicked the door closed and hefted the man over his shoulder as if he weighed no
more than a rag doll. He carried him into the bathroom and disappeared from
view. With those devil eyes no longer upon her she finally exhaled and flopped
back onto the bed. She knew without seeing what would occur in the bathroom,
her Keeper’s ungodly fire. There would be no smoke, nor ash, nor soot. The man
would simply heat up, as if from within and combust, leaving no more than dust
easily washed down the drain.
It was his fault she desperately rationalized. She’d tried to warn him, damn him! Was it her fault he was too drunk to listen? Was it her fault he couldn’t get his mind off sex for two damn seconds to listen? He was supposed to have agreed to work together when she confessed. She’d explained plain as day. She told him she was supposed to rob him. She told him how dangerous her keeper was, she told him. And still he hadn’t listened. He was going to go to her keeper with what she’d said instead of them both escaping out of the back. He would have gotten them both killed, stupid, arrogant fool.
He was falling down drunk and
thought he could just confront her keeper. As if he stood a chance on his best
day. He hadn’t even stood a chance against her. It had been so easy to kill him,
like squashing a particularly stupid bug. Not that she’d done it on purpose.
Truly she’d only meant to subdue him until he began to fight her. Damn fool
panicked and bit like one their prize pit bulls and it had been instinct for
her to put him down like a rabid dog. It was a reflex wrought by the intensity
of her training. It really was a freakish accident though this made the man no
less dead.
Perhaps once she recovered from her
own distress she’d feel remorse. Maybe she’d imagine the man’s grieving wife
and orphaned kids. For now she was simply happy to be alive. She’d survived to
plot again while the man whose name she’d already forgotten would never again
see the light of day. It was a hefty price for her failure and she did lament
her lack of proper guilt but she suppressed this feeling as she had all others
her entire life.
Before long her keeper returned and
she stood to leave without being bid. He held the door for her and his devilish
orange gaze burned into her as she passed by him. The unearthly glow was most
prevalent in his eyes after he’d loosed his fire. He dropped his shades from
his head to cover them, their orange brilliance were sure to draw unwanted
attention. The couple proceeded out of the hotel as if nothing had occurred.
Neither of them worried over trifles like security cameras and witnesses for
her keeper was nothing if not thorough. Cameras will have conspicuously
malfunctioned on this particular evening and witnesses of the party Chazzmine
and her Vic had attended would only be able to describe his companion as a
women that looked nothing like the real Chazzmine.
So her unease had little to do with
the murder minutes prior and everything to do with the silent well dressed man
beside her. Oh sure they attracted the usual amount of stares, from gawking men
and women alike. It was only natural with him in his expertly cut suit and
jaunty orange bow tie that so complimented his eyes and her in the dress that
draped her frame with near indecency. But it was still only the usual amount of
stares, not suspicion. It wouldn’t have mattered if they were caught anyhow.
She was far more frightened of her
keeper than the police. So she was left contemplating her inevitable
punishment. As if reading her mind her keeper finally broke the silence by
saying, “You of course must think of what you’ve done, 48 hours should do.” She
almost breathed a sigh of relief. Two days in the windowless dungeon she called
her thinking space was, as a product of her upbringing, at least bearable.
“For now”, he added raising his
glasses to show that his pointed gaze stilled burned with anger and the relief
washed away. She was in full sulk by the time Malik, their young valet, sped up
with her keeper’s smoke gray Lamborghini. They came to this place often so Malik
knew her keeper well; which explained the liberty he took by pulling the
screeching donut, smoke billowing from the tires, by way of parking. Malik then
brought his tall, handsome, caramel self forth and coolly tossed her keeper his
keys
“Don’t stunt,” came her keeper as he whopped the boy about the back of his head. Yet his perfectly straight and dazzling white teeth were present as he dealt the blow so the boy went unchastised. In fact he hardly seemed to feel the blow as he was soon rushing to the other side of the car to open Chazzmine’s door. Only he did not wear the doe eyed grin he usually reserved for her. Their hands brushed as she climbed in and his look of stoic resolve melted into intense longing.
She did her best to convey how sorry she
was with her eyes alone but she knew it was no good. He would of course think
she’d chickened out and left him hanging. Yet all was not lost as he did mimic
the usual call me as they drove away. “In case you were thinking of taking him
up let’s add another day of self reflection shall we.” She was dead quite in
response, all her concentration went to schooling her features, appearing aloof
as she panicked inside. ‘He didn’t know’, she repeated franticly in her mind.
He couldn’t know! Her nerves we on edge with the prospect of her keeper finding
out that her Malik was the beginning of their end.
Malik and his well built six foot
six frame, Malik’s big brown eyes and long dark lashes, Malik’s caramel skin
and short cropped tight knit curls, Malik’s lips. He’d stolen her first kiss.
She was 18 and two months ago she’d had her first and only kiss. It was
defiance. It was magnificence. It was her first act of freedom, how she
realized that her life was apparently all wrong. Here she sat beside the man
she knew only as her keeper. He was not her father, nor her lover, for he’d
collected her from the St. Paul home for girls all but 15 years ago. He’d bid
her call him keeper and the rest was history.
He’d always made it clear that she
meant nothing to him and never would. She was his assignment. He was to train
and keep her until they came for her. He never bothered to elaborate as to who
‘they’ were and when they’d come, he claimed not to know. Well she could wait
no longer. She’d always suspected that her life was freakishly cruel, some sad
farce really. She now had that confirmed by her handsome knight. She inwardly
cringed knowing she’d have to wait the three days and surely far longer to
avoid suspicion to call him.
She dare not risk showing her
longing so instead she closed her eyes and let herself bath in the memory of
that glorious night. She’d gone outside for air and to relax her face from all
the fake smiling. Again she’d been dressed to the nines, even more scantily
clad in a Swarovski glitter mini dress. What did not sparkle was covered in
black sheer mesh; still there was plenty of flesh unbound by mesh or anything.
A good majority of her heavy bosom was part of that unbound flesh. She’d just
been closing her tawny spotted white mink when she saw him.
She remembered smiling and waving
goofily then beckoning him over, which he ignored. So she went to him instead.
She could not say why she did it; perhaps she liked the effect she had on him.
It felt good to have some small power over someone or something as she was
truly powerless in her own life. “Whatcha doin’” she asked as she purposely let
her coat fly open. As she’d expected his eyes went big and shined bright in the
darkness right before he averted them. When he looked to her again he was
annoyed. She could never understand how quickly he went from happy to see her,
akin to most of the men she met, to sour faced like most of the women beside
them. It amused her.
She was of course completely unaware
of her sexuality, very much like a child in that regard. But she understood
reactions, it was the only human interaction she encountered save her keeper’s,
and she found Malik’s reaction to her fascinating. “How can I help you ma’am,”
he managed with strained cordiality.
She gave
her most charming smile. “I just want to know what. You. Are. Doing” she said
in a singsong voice as she danced around him.
“Look,
I’m on break so Marco can help you with whatever…”
“I don’t
need help,” she began snatching the hand rolled from him and taking a puff. She
immediately began to cough as her eyes watered.
“Hey
gimme that, damn it!” he said snatching the blunt back and snuffing it out
against the brick wall of the dark alley she’d found him in. “Man you bet not
tell yo’ daddy I gave you that.”
“He’s
not a parent,” she said skipping to follow him. She caught up fast enough to
catch him roll his eyes.
“Fine
your boyfriend, sugar daddy, whatever just stop following me.”
“I’m
sorry I just never get to talk to people my age,” she said truthfully
continuing to follow him as he moved beyond the shadows of the alley.
“Stop
dating men old enough to be your daddy for money then,” he said with a ghost of
a smirk upon his lips.
He found
even her unladylike snort was pretty as she said, “Gross we’re not dating.”
“Oh word
so he another kinda daddy huh?” He now wore a full grin and the effect was
startling. He had big white teeth and his eyes held a mischievous glint. He
allowed himself to stare at her unabashed, looking her up and down he gave an
appreciative whistle then shook his head. “Naw I’m sure I can’t afford you.”
Being as
naive as she was she was still unaware of his meaning but was insulted nonetheless.
“I’m not for sale,” she said finally closing her coat and crossing her arms
over her chest. Her intent was not to cover her charms, as she was unaware of
the intent of his gaze. She’d noticed how his look had become predatory;
unconsciously she began to pose herself in defense. All the while poor Malik
stood helplessly unaware that he was frightening a master of the deadly arts.
Luckily her fear passed before he made any sudden movements.
“Really then what are you doing in there with him dressed like, like well like that?”
He gestured to her itty-bitty dress and was comfortable enough to light his
joint again. He took a deep pull as he walked a few paces and slunk into
another alley.
“Being
quite and looking good,” she replied simply mimicking exactly what her keeper
had told her.
“That’s
pimp,” he said in between snickers. “So if you’re not an escort what’s your
deal?”
“I don’t
know, could be lots of stuff but I’m not an escort.” She didn’t even know what
it was. But the young valet was not convinced and merely rolled his eyes.
“Okay so
if money bags in there ain’t cha man, or ya daddy, or ya pimp, what is he
then?”
“My
keeper duh,” she added the duh to deflect. This conversation was starting to
make her feel stupid especially when he just raised a brow and continued to
smirk. Finally he said, “Oooohkay, I guess.”
She
didn’t respond and continued to squirm under his steady gaze. She wanted badly
to say that he must have had a keeper at some point as well, didn’t everyone?”
Only she didn’t want to appear even more strange and above all slow.
“So if
he’s just your keeper, whatever that is, then you can do whatever you want then?”
He said this with his chin jutted upward and his eyes downcast, looking at her
sideways, appraising her. Suddenly she felt as if she was being led into a trap
but didn’t know how to avoid it.
“Yeah,”
she lied while looking at her feet and shuffling nervously. He smiled like the
cat that ate the cannery.
“You
wanna come with me for a lil’ bit?”
Her eyes
grew big as saucers and she was stock still like a deer in headlights
remembering her keeper’s words when he’d first allowed her freedom to roam
unaccompanied. ‘Don’t let the freedom go
to your head,’ he’d warned. But what good was freedom if it was never fully
explored. And he was talking to her. No one ever talked to her like she was a
real person and not just a prop, a guarded possession of her keeper’s. He
didn’t shy away from her eyes like the household staff or ignore her outright
like her keeper’s business associates.
“Right,
just like I thought,” he said turning to walk away.
“No wait
I’ll go,” she gulped, “I can go for a little, we have some stuff later a little
later but…” she stopped short as he took her hand and she had to jog to keep up
with his long strides. He led her around the back of the large hotel and
through a side door that’d been propped open by a brick, her heart thudded in
her ears all the while.
He sped
her up several flights of stairs until they finally emerged outdoors again.
Before her was the lavishly decorated rooftop pool, replete with white linen
cabanas and plush lounge chairs.
She
shrugged not wanting to admit that both the indoor and outdoor pool of her
keeper’s manse were larger and more luxuriously done.
“Yeah
you are,” he said with a laugh. “Not this guy though. I’m from the west side.
But best believe I’m gon’ have all this and more one day.” He walked to the
roof’s ledge and propped one leg there.
“Girl
look at this view.” She did and it was astounding the whole city spread out
beneath them. To one side there was a billion dancing lights, the other side
was the lake with the moon casting its pale light on its surface.
“I
couldn’t agree more,” he said with his eyes on her. She didn’t know how to
respond so she merely blushed becomingly to which he smiled.
“Come
sit down,” he said gesturing toward one of the many cabanas with fluffy lounge
chairs. She obeyed and he didn’t leave an inch between them as he sat beside
her.
“You
wanna hit this again?” He’d lit another joint and promptly took a puff then shoved
it in her face. Again she obliged taking a tepid pull. “Hit it and hold it in
for little,” he instructed. She did so and went into a fit of coughing.
“Virgin
lungs,” he said smiling and shaking his head. “Don’t freak out okay.”
Chazzmine
didn’t hear him as tingling warmth spread up from her toes to her skull. She
was giddy. She even giggled. She’d never giggled in her life.
“Girl
you tweakin’,” he said laughing. Still she did not seem to hear. “So how long
have you known daddy Waurbucks in there?” When her only response was a look of
sheer bewilderment he rolled his eyes at her black stare. “Your keeper,” he
explained.
“Oh um
fifteen years,” she said matter of factly.
“Fifteen,
fifteen years, what is he a friend of your family?’
“I don’t
have a family.”
“Shit,”
he exclaimed rubbing his hand from his forehead to his chin. “So he like
adopted you. Man he is your daddy, you lied! I knew it.”
“No, no
I mean yes he adopted me but he’s not my father. He just keeps me,” she
explained in an even mellow voice oblivious to the note of panic in his.
“Keeps
your for what. I mean is he gonna like sell you of something? I mean fuck,
keeper, what does that even mean?”
“I never
really thought about it.” For a several seconds she was powerfully alarmed but
it passed into another fit of giggles. “Well I suppose it can’t get any worse.”
Now she laughed in earnest
“Awe
hell I shouldn’t be here with you. I must be crazy. Come on I’m taking you
back.” He stood and grabbed her arm attempting to pull her up but she wasn’t
cooperating.
“No just
a little longer. I never get to talk to people my own age,” she pouted but it
fell on deaf ears as he finally hefted her onto her feet.
“Girl
stawp, call a friend from school or…”
“Didn’t
go to school, tutors.”
“Damn
dude prolly is a human trafficker,” he stopped pulling her along and looked at
her with pity in his eyes. Finally he shook his head and continued on. “Got my
own fucking problems,” he mumbled.
Though
the more he walked with her being drug along solemnly the more agitated he
became. Without preamble he stopped again and rounded on her. “Look you gotta
be at least eighteen and even if you not just leave if you want. ‘Cause I
promise you it won’t get any better.”
“I’m
eighteen but I can’t just leave.” The
very idea was absurd to her. Where on earth would she go? What on earth would
she do?
“Of
course you can girl. Be the master of your own destiny, Carpi Diem. Know what
that mean?”
“Seize
the day,” she said laughing again. “I know but that’s not real life Malik.”
Finally she didn’t feel like an idiot about something. No one was truly the
master of his or her own destiny in her world. Not even her keeper
“But it
is baby. I’m living proof. I love my momma but she was a religious fanatic that
put Carrie’s mom to shame. She was a straight up nut. So I broke out at
sixteen. I had to get my hands dirty but I’m here and I’m my own man see.” When
she continued to stare blankly he hurried on mumbling “Wasting my breath.”
Finally
they stopped at the bottom of the stair case ending in the door propped open by
a brick. He reached into a broom closet adjacent and startled her with a blast
of air freshener. She sputtered but he didn’t wait for her to catch her
bearings before he was steering her towards the third and final door in that narrow
hall.
“Say you
were in the bathroom,” he said shoving her thru. She barely had time to
register her forced abrupt departure before he was pulling her back. Only now
he cradled her in arms, his nose touching hers with the warm caress of his
rapid breath. The sensation was both odd and alarming as well something,
something she couldn’t name.
“God
you’ll haunt me forever if I don’t” He was so close that his lips brushed hers
as he spoke and she gasped, riddled with confusion but he must have taken it as
ascent. She promptly found her self pinned into the door she’d just recently
been shoved through. His hands found the small of her back to pull her closer
as his mouth ever so gently teased hers until her lips parted in surprised
elation. And then he was rapturous; clutching her desperately, tasting her
mouth as if to quench a ravenous thirst.
“Damn,”
he finally said breaking the sweet contact. “Dude prolly got bucko gun, don’t
he?”
She was
slightly deliriously from the weed and the heat of his embrace but she managed
to nod.
“Figures
never thought I’d be a sucker for a pretty face. Here take my number.” He
produced at pin and mini paper pad stamped with the name of this fancy hotel.
He quickly jot down his number and handed it to her. Still dumbstruck she made
to put it into her purse.
“No don’t keep it memorize it. Say it back to me.” She rattled off the numbers to him.
“Again.” It was several times before he was satisfied. Finally he took the paper from her and crumbled it up. Before she knew it she was in his arms again and he claimed her feverishly now, raking his fingers down her back.
“No don’t keep it memorize it. Say it back to me.” She rattled off the numbers to him.
“Again.” It was several times before he was satisfied. Finally he took the paper from her and crumbled it up. Before she knew it she was in his arms again and he claimed her feverishly now, raking his fingers down her back.
“Well if
a nigga gotta be a fool at least once something tells me you’ll be worth it,”
he said this as he blazed a hot trail of moist kissed down her neck to her décolleté.
He stopped to look in her eyes as he caressed her throat with his thump. “Bet
not be playing me though”, as he spoke his thump tightened on her throat ever
so slightly as his eyes narrowed. The threat was plain for all of three seconds
but then his eyes went back to normal and he smiled before pushing her through
the door.
The
recollection was so vivid she may have transported herself back in time to that
glorious moment and then she was catapulted back to the present with the
streetlights dancing to the tune of her misery as her keeper flew by them in
his smoky Ferrari. He switched lanes suddenly and she jerked towards him, their
skin almost brushing. He looked down at her, their eyes meeting in their
closeness, so like Malik’s embrace. Yet in his face she found only revulsion
and his devil eyes still burned bright with his unholy fire. She pushed herself
away as far as she could go in the tiny space of the car, laying her head on
the window pan and closing her eyes.
All to
soon she spied the gates emblazed with her keepers iron wrought symbol in the
center. She pondered it as she had so many times, this time she was sure. The
queer design was a sphere that seemed to be imploding with unmistakable flames
and rays shooting forth, a ruined sun. It was monstrous, as was he. He used it
everywhere; branded on table clothes and stationary, on the archaic wax seal he
used for his letters. The monster branded a ruined sun on everything he could.
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