Reality Illusion 653w33

Reality Illusion

Shellie L. Spencer

Copyright © 2021 Shellie Spencer All rights reserved First Edition NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING 320 Broad Street Red Bank, NJ 07701 First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2021 ISBN 978-1-63692-497-7 (Paperback) ISBN 978-1-63692-498-4 (Digital) Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18

Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30

Prologue

What is reality? In most dictionaries, reality is defined as “the quality or state of being real; or, the totality of real things and events.” Then, when you look up the word “real,” it’s defined as “of or relating to fixed or immovable things; not artificial; not imaginary.” What a contradiction! Take air for instance. It’s neither fixed nor immovable. But see if you can find a person on this planet, other than a misinformed child, or a lunatic, who would depose it to be unreal. And, when we consider an event, is it not true that it only becomes reality once those who witness it confirm that it occurred and relay it to those who didn’t see? “Not imaginary,” one of the definitions for “real.” But isn’t it true that every small or great innovation, invention, structure, or creation began with the imagination? If someone would have asked me what reality was, prior to the events that took place recently in my life, I would’ve told them to read the dictionary, that the only reality there is, is the one created by us as a people, as societies, societies which are fueled by power and control, ed by tender—lots and lots of tender. Everything else is not worth a second’s thought. I would’ve agreed with the masses that all that mattered was living life to the fullest and leaving behind a legacy people would talk about for generations to come. I would also tell them that love was a delusion for “suckers.” And faith was for people weak enough to believe that a “higher power” could save the day.

As it stands now, my sense of reality has been utterly shattered by recent events that rocked me, not only off my foundation in this world, but also off this plain of existence. Am I alive? Perhaps? But I guess that depends on what you perceive as being alive. Does being alive, to you, mean that “you’re aware of things considered ‘real’ and deemed imperative to the composition of ‘reality’”? Then yes…and no. Yes. Because how and what makes me exist is real to the extent that I believe it to be. My experiences are only as real as I allow them to be. Not to say that you are bound by the laws of physics and I’m not, or that gravity affects you and not me. Nor am I saying that objects that appear solid, like walls, trees, and buildings, are solid only in your reality. What I am saying is that my life experiences, i.e., people, places, and things, are simply as real as my perception of them. Therefore, I may not be alive in the way that most people believe that I am. No! I’m not crazy. That, I want to establish right here and now. But then again…if you perceive being crazy as “being disconnected from the norms and taboos of societal standards,” well, then maybe I am. Which could also mean that we all are, because every single person on this earth experiences and lives a different, separate reality from the next. For instance, you and a friend are at a party, sharing the same time and space, at that exact hour, only you are having a lousy time, while your friend, on the other hand, seems to be having the time of their life, mingling, dancing, drinking. Now, within the hour, you witness a terrible, brutal brawl. Consequently, during

the entire altercation, your friend was in the bathroom barfing like mad. You look to see if he/she is present. You don’t see him/her, and you are too entranced in the moment to tear yourself away from the action. Minutes later, the fight is broken up, both men are taken out of the party, and the blood cleaned up. Just as the party resumes, your friend reemerges, feeling revitalized, accompanied by someone they hooked up with at some point during this soiree. You attempt to make your way over, but they slip out and are gone before you can catch them. In such a situation, what’s the reality? Yours, or your friend’s? You had a horrible time and witnessed violence. Your friend, however, had a great time and only witnessed how barf looks and feels after one too many drinks. Now he/she may have heard about the fight at the party at some point, and even how lousy a time you had that same night, but only after the fact. It was not a part of their reality until they were made aware of it. And still both realities are different. Now just bear with me, and let’s review the facts. Did a fight really break out? Of course, it did, for those who witnessed and heard of it. But for those who did not, it is no more a reality than the fountain of youth, and fairies, which is not to say that they are not or were not realities in some point in time. Word of mouth travels, but it is rarely accurate once ed along. Things change from person to person; details get misconstrued or embellished upon. Take prison, for example. Everyone appears to know that prison exists. And these prisons are believed to house the criminals or villains of a society. When the truth is they haven’t got a clue. Only about 15 percent of the prison population can be deemed “bad people” or

“true villains.” The rest are just people who’ve made some pretty bad decisions, or were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ask any ten people who have never experienced prison what they think about it, and you would get ten different perceptions of what they believe it is like. Hell! If you asked ten people who’ve been to prison, you’d get ten different realities, with many similarities. Which just goes to show that everyone experiences their own version of reality. Some even create them, with minimal exceptions indeed. Even at this very minute, I check my watch and it says that it’s 2:11 p.m. This is supposed to be a reality. Yet, so many great sages, and books for that matter, state otherwise. It is said that “time is an illusion.” On this plane of existence, time is the reality of the beholder. In the United States alone, there are a few different time zones. Imagine how a tribal culture, or cultures, existing today relate to time. Most have never seen a clock, let alone a watch. Their concept of time must be extremely foreign to that of most modern societies. Just consider if you happened to come across a tribesman and ask him the time, what do you think his response would be? And pain, how real is that? A lot of us would swear it was incredibly real. Yet, there are those who appear to be exempt from pain. There are individuals who can lie on nails, or walk on hot coals. There are people who can sit in caves, in extreme weather conditions, for hours on end in meditation, wearing nothing but a tunic. And let’s not forget that monk who set himself on fire on national television, and sat there calmly, as if oblivious to the flames that engulfed him. Do you think pain was a reality to him? There are also those who swear that death is actually the ultimate reality. Funny, right? I agree that death is certainly something we will all experience at some point or another. But what is death itself? The definition states, “To cease to exist in the

flesh: to feel nothing: to not be conscious…to deteriorate.” Or is it a transcendence where we become more than the flesh could ever be? Is the reality of death really life, and we awake to eternity, where the dream called “reality” crumbles and the reality of “God” and the spirit flourishes? I’ve never been a religious man, and I can’t say that I am now. I don’t know if there’s a heaven or hell, or if we will be judged by a higher power, so to speak, then be rewarded, or punished as a result of how we chose to live our lives. I don’t even know what faith really is, let alone “true faith.” All I know for sure is that I, myself, am a contradiction. I exist for the sake of existence—only to be. What I believe to be real is real as long as it appeases the five senses. When, and if this reality ceases to do that, then my whole being becomes chaotic. If what is real to me is not confirmed by others, I am no longer linked to this life, or those who cherish it. I am simply “what is.” And that “is” has yet to be determined. Money, power, and control are no longer what drive me. Love, lust, desire no longer entice, or stimulate me. Status, prosperity, success, and ego have become minute, minuscule. What claims me now, mind, body, heart, and soul, is purpose. I need to know why I exist. Then maybe I can decipher what part of this existence is reality and which part is an illusion-based perception of a reality created by “the powers that be” to condition the masses? I no longer care who I am, or was, but only who I’ll become. If there is no reality of the flesh, then why should I pretend that there is? These words I write have their purpose. If in the event that I meet my untimely demise, I feel it is my duty to spread this very significant message. One, which, I believe, is vital to curing humanity of its current mind state, and maladies, a message that must be relayed to the world, or perhaps just the one who finds this script. And that message is…

Chapter

1

“So tell me…,” the sophisticated fellow in the crisp charcoal suit replied skeptically as he smoothed his silk gray tie. While he spoke, he kept a keen eye on the man standing before him, hoping to detect any sign of discomfort or doubt in his expression. “Are you certain that my profits from last year will multiply threefold…just because of a label indicating all my products are insured?” His gaze was focused as he looked for indication that he may be getting duped out of fifteen million dollars of his hard-earned money. “Not just a label,” the other man stated with a cavalier demeanor, “but my label.” Laquez Fortell stood before his potential client with an air of confidence, seasoned with just the right amount of cockiness. He was confident that he would close this deal, not because his presentation was stellar, which it was by all means, but because the insurance company that he not only controlled, but also owned and built from nothing to something, was now the best in the region. The entire state of Connecticut was aware of it. So, his confidence was wellplaced. He was positive that the only way his client’s profits wouldn’t triple was if the product itself was junk, and he knew that it was top-notch, which made his prediction as good as gold. Just as any savvy investor would do, Laquez had done his homework on this potentially new client and his product prior to this meeting. He learned that the man was a multimillionaire, who made it big by investing in car parts, both foreign and domestic. He then sold them at top dollar to many of the auto parts stores throughout Connecticut, New York, and Massachusetts. His name was Vaughn Shem, and the only reason he was not seeing the profits he expected was because most auto parts suppliers wanted a guarantee, some insurance to make them feel comfortable. Up until this point, this was something Mr. Shem was lacking. “As you may very well know,” Laquez continued, “my company is renowned throughout these parts. You wanted the best…you got it. And if you weren’t sure

about the quality of my services, you would not be here willing to invest.” Mr. Shem looked deeper into Laquez’s eyes, only his skepticism had lessened, replaced by that twinkle that occupies a man’s eyes when there is big money involved. “Well,” he said with a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “you sure do know how to drive it home. Where do I sign?” He rose from the plush leather chair he was sitting in. Laquez moved in toward him, and as they met, they shook firmly. Laquez placed a reassuring hand on Mr. Shem’s shoulder as they shook. “You’ve just made a very wise decision, my man.” He released Mr. Shem’s hand and guided him over to a rectangular-shaped table, made of the finest Polynesian redwood on the market. Twelve high-backed plush leather chairs, the color of Perot, were placed at the table, five per side, with two head chairs. At the table, both men gathered around the contract that rested upon it. Mr. Shem eyed Laquez graciously, with a big smile. Laquez returned the smile while reaching in the breast pocket of his blazer, where he pulled out an exquisite pen, one that was capable of writing underwater, upside down, and in all sorts of extreme conditions. “Sign right there, my friend.” He pointed to the line on the contract. “I’ll sign after you.” With just the slightest hesitation, Vaughn Shem signed where indicated, then handed the pen back to Laquez, who signed immediately after. Once completed, he looked up and placed his pen back in his breast pocket. “That’s a nice pen.” Vaughn could not help but to notice. “I know,” Laquez commented with an edge of conceit. “And be assured that you’re in good hands. In fact, you’re in the best hands.” “Is that a fact?” Vaughn returned with a hint of unease. “Absolutely. In fact…I am so certain of my prediction”—he took a few short steps away from his client—“that if you do not see three times more than you did last year, I will refund half of what you invested.”

Vaughn brightened again instantly. “Are you serious?” he asked, amazed. “Of course,” Laquez stated slyly. “I’m a business ‘mannn’!” Vaughn chuckled slightly and reached to take Laquez’s hand once more. “Thank you, good sir!” “No…,” Laquez countered, “thank you. Now let me see you out.” They moved back to the table. “My assistant will provide you with a packet and a copy of the contract before you leave.” He scooped up the contract. “Just give this to her on your way out. We’ve already established payment arrangements. So…I think we’re all set for now.” He led Vaughn to the door and simultaneously placed a gentle hand on his back as he ushered him out. “Be easy, my man. I will talk to you next week.” “Sounds great.” Vaughn acquiesced. “Have a wonderful day, Mr. Fortell.” “Please…call me Laquez.” “Will do.” “Later.” Laquez closed the door after his client and turned with excitement. The biggest grin played across his features. He began rubbing his hands together anxiously, as if trying to warm them. He was in such high spirits, which was not unusual after making such an impression on a client. Money wasn’t what caused this emotion to swell in him, for he made multimillion-dollar deals almost daily, and for that reason, by age 38, he was worth 17.8 billion dollars and rising. What excited him so was the act of victory, of being successful at yet another business venture. For him, the ego boost was the real prize to be obtained. Vain to the core, Laquez prided himself, on himself. He was six feet, one inch tall and slender, with a muscular and toned physique. He was quite handsome. His skin was a light caramel complexion, creamy. His hair was dark and wavy with a sheen, and his face was smooth without a blemish, making him look ten

years younger. He kept it clean and trimmed with slight mutton chops and a low patch beard, minus a mustache. Large dark brown eyes stared out at whomever he decided to glance at. Women found him irresistible, while men found him to be intimidating at times. Born in Chester, Massachusetts, Laquez’s mother, Sya Ether, worked as a secretary for a criminal defense lawyer named Derris Fortell, who lived in Westfield, Massachusetts. Over time, Derris fell in love with Sya, and after dating for about nine months, he asked her to leave her one-bedroom apartment in Chester to move in with him in his home on West Silver Street in Westfield. She accepted his offer without much thought, and six months later, she became pregnant with Laquez, her first and only child, as well as Derris’s. Before Laquez was born, Derris proposed to Sya, and she happily accepted. The wedding was scheduled for one month before Laquez’s expected due date. Unfortunately, two months before the planned wedding, Derris was gunned down by a former client, right in front of the courthouse. Apparently, the client felt that Derris sold him out. Since Derris had no children and had never been married, nor had he written up a will, all his property and s went to Sya, the soon-to-be mother of his child. Being that Derris was only thirty-four when he was murdered, and had only been practicing law for eight years, he hadn’t accumulated much of a fortune, but he did have a good nest egg put away. The house he had financed had quite a bit of mortgage left to be paid when he died. Its original cost of $250,000, to be paid over a period of forty years, seven of which Derris had diligently paid, was too much for Sya to maintain with the secretary salary she currently held. Derris had a little more than $175,000 in assets and s, which Sya, being a pretty smart, independent woman, was able to fully utilize to cash out and move away. Her decision to move was based on the pain of losing Derris and having to raise Laquez fatherless and the memories that would suffocate her emotionally if she remained. Her decision was to leave Massachusetts as soon as she had the baby, which she would name Laquez Fortell, only because that was the name that Derris had suggested which she did not like, but would honor for his sake. As it turned out, because of legal technicalities, moving preparations, and certain

provisions, by the time Sya finally up and left Massachusetts, Laquez was three years old. And the place she decided to move to was the first place that offered her a decent position as an insurance adjuster which was in Stamford, Connecticut. She had never been to Stamford, or Connecticut for that matter, but she had heard good things about it. And at the time, any place was better than where she was presently. So Stamford became that city that Laquez was raised and would thrive in. He had always been a good kid, smart and eager. He attended good public schools and later, with all expenses paid by Sya, attended college and graduated with honors. Although his schooling was thorough, he had acquired almost everything he knew about the insurance field through his mother. It was to her that much of his success was owed, if not all. From the early age of six, Laquez was taught numbers, estimates, and many other aspects of the insurance game. By the time he was twenty-one, he knew insurance like he knew his own face. College merely added to the knowledge he already possessed, but the deeper roots of his profession were planted by his mother. Now as he looked around his office, from the high-rise it was located in overlooking downtown Stamford and beyond, he could not help but feel a sense of superiority. Once he was done relishing the moment, he walked deeper into his office. Further in, he spotted himself, through his peripheral vision, on the wall mirror to his right as he ed it. Instantly he stopped and turned so that he was fully facing the mirror. Suddenly a smile washed over his face. He began to dip and bop, in a hip-hop fashion. As he extended both of his hands out, as if attempting to embrace the world, he began rapping. “I woke up out the beeeeeeeedd…turn my swag onnnn. Took a look in the mirror, said, ‘What’s up!’ Yeaah, I’m getting money, ohhhhh!” Then immediately he chuckled to himself. “I don’t even like Soldier Boy,” he stated sardonically then proceeded into the interior of his office. The office he occupied currently was one of the three offices he ran his insurance business out of. The other two were located in Manhattan, New York, and in Los

Angeles, California. His main office was run right out of Stamford, which was also the area he oversaw personally, and for that reason, it was the most exquisite out of the three, though the others weren’t too shabby in the least. The Stamford office consisted of three huge sections located on the top floor of the tallest building in downtown Stamford. The section where he was presently was the middle section. When one first entered the office, mounted on the wall was a four-foot-by-fourfoot mirror, which happened to be the mirror he just recently performed in. Past the mirror, the wall stopped and receded further back into the room, which was twenty-five square feet by twenty-five square feet. On the left and right were double pane glass doors, leading into the west and the east sections. There was no back wall, for that portion of the structure was composed of huge reinforced tinted glass windows, giving the viewer or viewers an extravagant view of the city and beyond from any part of the office. The area was lavishly decorated. A four-foot-by-twenty-foot Polynesian red conference table, equipped with twelve plush black leather chairs, was positioned in the center of the room. Dynamic paintings on the walls and elegant vases on expensive stands highlighted the area without clutter; classy yet easily noticeable. To the left of the conference table through the double doors was the lounge area. It was marvelously furnished with a few chaises and recliners for comfort. There were padded sitting chairs that coordinated flawlessly with some unique glass tables that had peculiar frames. There were a few floor chandeliers and an ebony stand that housed a DVD player, a game console, and a stereo system. Two fiftyinch flat-screen HD TVs were mounted on either wall, set up before the chairs, which were facing the huge glass windows. A seventy-inch-wide, one-hundredfoot-long pull-down projector screen was attached to the ceiling. To the right of the conference room was Laquez’s personal office. It was equipped with a state-of-the-art six-foot-by-eight-foot granite top desk. Four expensive butter-soft burgundy leather chairs were angled two to the right of the desk and two to the left, all facing him. The desk was positioned so that the huge glass windows were to his back, entitling his clients not only to a view of him sitting at his desk, but also to a bird’s-eye view of the city behind him. In the far corner to the right of the desk were three bookshelves, stocked with literature on

technology and business. This area, like the previous, was also expensively decorated with sassy stands and end tables, erotic art, crystal, and tasteful vases. Standing by the conference table, Laquez stared out the window, his success on his mind, not the view which was breathtaking for anyone with the sense to notice. The sun was setting, and there was a purple and pink splendor across the sky as the sun slowly faded into the horizon. But all Laquez was aware of was how powerful he felt. The world belonged to him, even if it didn’t know it yet. After a moment, he moved closer to the window and looked down. He watched the cars, which looked like toys speeding by, and the dots that were people bustling from place to place, totally oblivious to him, their God. How insignificant they all were and “He” so important. So far, life had been good to him, almost too good. His smile widened, and just as his reverie began to deepen, he was startled into the now by the intercom. Immediately he rushed through the double doors that led into his office. When he got to his desk, he hit the talk button. “Yes, Jesse?” he said expectantly. “Mr. Shem just left. All is in order.” Her voice seemed to boom over the intercom. “Great!” he replied, glorified. “Is there anything else scheduled for today?” He already knew the answer to that question. If he was nothing else, he was diligent and extremely focused when it came to his business. He only asked as a formality. “Well, at 4:45 you have that video conference with your board regarding a status update on the New York and California offices,” she stated professionally. “In a half hour, you’ve scheduled a meeting with your attorneys concerning the Bellinger , and at 5:45 sharp, you’re supposed to meet with your tailor.” She hesitated a moment then continued, “But I’m sure you already knew that.” She concluded with a touch of sarcasm, but more humor than anything else. Jesse Hayes had been Laquez’s secretary for nearly five years, and they had worked closely together for most of that span. In that time, there was never a moment of intimacy, only genuine friendship and respect. Not that she wasn’t attracted to him. She felt he was the fliest man she’d ever laid eyes upon. Nor

was it because he was married or even in a relationship. She knew he had been single for the last eighteen months prior to the breakup with his ex. The real reason why she hadn’t expressed her attraction to him was because of his strict professionalism, which was the cause of a purely professional business relationship between them. And although she felt he possibly had intimate feelings toward her, she felt that the wrong approach could corrupt the relationship they currently shared. There was certainly a level of love and respect. “You know me too well, Jes,” he said with appreciation. He really did appreciate her services. “It’s becoming a little scary.” Truth be told, ever since he hired her, his business had grown substantially. She was very important to his efficiency and success, and he believed she was aware of her value. She was thorough, diligent, and professional, which correlated rather evenly with him. But she never seemed to let that inflate her ego, or affect her work, or how she conducted herself. That’s why he paid her more than any secretary in the history of secretaries. “Sometimes it’s good to be a little scared,” she quipped playfully after a moment. “Who said anything about…” He paused, feeling silly about having an intercom conversation when she was only a few steps away. “Hold on.” He clicked the intercom off and headed out of the east wing, through the conference room, and out into the reception area. Immediately he came to a waiting area. Straight ahead and to the right of him were four pleated black leather chairs against one wall, another four chairs of the same kind, only white, lined the opposite wall. Beyond those chairs was a door that led out into the reception area. Over a hundred employees worked in this area at cubicles where they answered insurance calls. In the northeast corner was Jesse’s office. She could see the entire area from her perch behind her desk, which was almost as exquisite as Laquez’s, only smaller. Her office was decorated much more modestly. He told her spare no expense when he assigned her the office and allowed her free rein on how to decorate it. And she had done just that, and it was hardly expensive, which showed her sense of character.

Laquez found her sitting at her desk, gazing at him with an expectant smile. “So, what do I owe the pleasure of a face-to-face?” She was being humorous, and he easily read her demeanor. As he did, he smiled shyly and took in her appearance. As always, he noted how attractive she was. She had a modest beauty to her, simple and innocent. Her hair was ravishing red, curly, and usually kept crimped in a pinned-up loose bun. Baby hair bangs hung on either side, just below her temples. Her skin was tanned, her features smooth and delicate. Her eyebrows were plucked and perfectly shaped, cherry colored like her hair. Her cheekbones were nicely set, bordering a nose that was neither large nor small, but structured for her face. She had a pair of full shapely lips, the kissable kind that many men adored and even some women. Her chin curved, making her face present, yet not overbearing or too sheepish. And her most magnificent, glorious feature were her eyes. They were aqua blue-green, mesmerizing. Her smile exposed dimples so deep and set that they appeared as black holes in her cheeks. Laquez had always felt a special love for her and would have certainly expressed that love if not for his very strict code or rule which was to never mix business with pleasure or, in this case, love. And that rule ran deeper than all his desires, which was why no matter how many of his beautiful female employees came on to him, giving him open invitations between their thighs, he never bit. He declined in every situation, never being rude, always subtle. “As I was saying,” he picked up where he left off during their intercom chat, “I never said anything about being scared.” “OOOK,” Jesse replied, faking embarrassment, “excuse me for misstating.” The smile she gave him nearly melted his heart and shattered his resolve. “But…,” he began, playful, “since it is you, I can let it slide.” His eyes connected with hers as if compelled. He saw that she, too, harbored some unspoken affection for him. The realization caused him to drop his eyes and stare at the ground awkwardly. “Uh,” he stammered, “I better head back and prepare for this video conference.” Jesse stared back at him, not once allowing her gaze to shift as he had just done. When she spoke, she made sure her tone did not portray her disappointment.

“Back to business, uh?” “Yeah,” he stated with slight discomfort and quickly headed back toward his office. Jesse watched him go with regret, feeling that she had missed an opportunity. The only good thing was that she was certain that she noticed something in him, something that assured her that she would get another shot at expressing her feelings. Only she would certainly capitalize on their next interaction.

*****

The video conference took longer than expected. It was six minutes to five, and there was no way he was going to make it to his appointment with his tailor. That meant he would have to reschedule, and he hated having to do that. Nonetheless, he made the call. It was time to clock out. Odd thing was that for the first time, today of all days, he felt self-conscious about walking out of his office and having to encounter Jesse. He felt he revealed something, unintentionally. He could not deny the fear and anxiety he felt and feared that things were somehow different and it would show the instant they made eye . At the moment, he wished his office had an alternate route, where he could slip out without having to encounter her. He looked down at his diamond-encrusted Rolex. It was already 5:20. He knew she was aware that the conference was over because the switchboard at her desk displayed a red light whenever he was in meetings. Yet here he was huddled in his office like a chicken. He refused to remain in this cowardly state. Nothing had changed anyway. For all he knew, she hadn’t noticed the spark between them. Perhaps the moment was more one-sided than he supposed it was. The only way to be sure was to go out there and face her. After about another forty seconds of working up the nerve, he headed out, intent on not only walking past her, but also looking her in those eyes and saying, “Good night, Jesse.”

The instant he opened his office door, dread engulfed him. It was not a fear for his safety, but of confrontation. So, instead of doing as he planned, he rushed through, past her office and toward the exit, looking at his watch as if late for something. “Good night, Jesse!” he shouted without looking back as he exited. “See you tomorrow.” Then he was gone, moving through the reception area as if being pursued by a pesky salesperson. He did not slow his pace until he was in the underground parking garage and safely in the driver’s seat of his cranberry Aston Martin with the door shut. As he started the engine, he realized he would have to see her eventually. If not tomorrow, then the day after. He had blown it. Things were different already. With that thought in mind, he casually pulled away, up into the city.

Chapter

2

The entire drive home, Laquez thought of Jesse and how horribly he had handled the situation. He went over it in his mind, all the ways he should have and could have dealt with it. He wondered what she must be thinking. She had to be aware of the sudden shift in his demeanor. Rushing by her like that had to raise flags. They had known and worked together for five years, and on this day, their feelings and attraction to each other finally came into light. How could he ignore what had transpired between them? Eye had a tendency to reveal it all, to give away things, emotions that one did not want discovered. He had felt the connection. It was strong. She undoubtedly felt it too. The question was where did they go from there? As usual, traffic was terrible. The only good thing was that he lived only thirtyfive minutes from where he worked. On most days, it took him fifty minutes to an hour to get home. But on this day, the roads seemed to be a bit more cluttered than usual, which gave him way too much time to think about Jesse. The funny thing was that he found, at the moment, he really didn’t want to do anything else. If he wanted a distraction, he could’ve easily blared his music, as he had done most times on the way home. He could have gotten on the phone and called up one of the dozens of women desperate for his attention. Or he could have called up one of two close friends just to chop it up. Instead he welcomed the silence, for it allowed him time to clear his mind of everything except Jesse. What would be the best way to deal with her moving forward? Truthfully the only thing keeping him and Jesse from being exclusive was himself. He hadn’t been aware of that fact up until this point. It was his code that kept him from opening up to her. His code.

The more he thought of it, the sillier it became. In fact, he couldn’t recall the reason he chose to live by such a code, at least as far as she was concerned. She was different than all the other women he had working for him, who came on to him every opportunity, parading themselves before him, available for the taking and fully on display. Many of them, if not all, he was sure, had specific motives. Not Jesse. He was baffled by the fact that what took place earlier could change things between them so significantly. And so suddenly. It was strange that he had interacted and been around this woman constantly over the years, and not once did these feelings, so easily suppressed, overwhelm him so. How many times had he noticed her beauty? Hundreds. How many times did her smile or laughter lift his spirits no matter how sour his mood? Lots. And how many times had he thought of making sweet, ionate love to her? Never. That’s what made this predicament so puzzling. He hadn’t once looked at Jesse in an intimate way. He always viewed her in a professional light and kept their encounters predominantly businesslike. Even at that very moment, he could not or visualize how her body was proportioned, having never really looked upon her with sexual scrutiny. He very much wanted to put a body to the face of the woman he appeared to suddenly be head over heels in love with. Is this what being in love is like? he thought. If so, he wouldn’t know because he had never been in love, or truly loved a woman he was intimate with, including Tasa Richards, in which he referred to as his ex, who never aroused in him the emotions that just the thought of Jesse was stirring up in him currently. Tasa had started off as just a superhot fling. She was drop-dead gorgeous, with a body to maim for, and a strut that could cause a man to prematurely ejaculate at the thought of a night with her. She knew what she possessed, and better believe she flaunted it. With her, it had begun a strictly sexual thing that escalated unexpectedly into a love/hate relationship. Unofficially they dated on and off for three years. Mainly because he would not commit to her and frequently had relations with other women. Of course, this enraged Tasa. Fortunately for her, she was the only one who knew what he liked and what to do afterward. Eventually she wore him down and finally got her

commitment. Once it was official, he was dedicated, as he was with everything he committed to. And he was faithful. Things seemed to be going smoothly. He had a booming career, a super knockout for a girlfriend, and the finest things that money could buy. He didn’t think there was anything else left to obtain. They lasted for two full years. Then things changed as most things are prone to do. Tasa became over-possessive, wanting more and more of his time. She wanted him to retire, leave his business in the hands of someone else so that he could be available to her at all times. She wanted more trips, more vacations, more love, more sex, though they hardly took a break as it was from that, and she wanted, above all else, to get married and start a family. All of this he believed to be a possibility, so that did not drive him away. Where Tasa made her crucial and final error in their relationship was when she stopped catering to his ego. She became more fixed on them, or an “us,” than on him. He ended it weeks later. Eighteen months later, there he was contemplating a new relationship with an employee who was more like a business partner. This was completely against his code. Things could spin out of control too easily. It was too risky. It would definitely interfere with his work performance. Since he had genuine feelings for Jesse, he could not bear to see her hurt on of his actions, or to be hurt by her. Pondering this dilemma, he lost track of his whereabouts but not his sense of direction. Suddenly he found himself in his driveway, facing his four-car garage with one of the doors raised up, ready to receive the Aston Martin. The garage doors were wired to raise by sensors that activated when either of his four vehicles were within twenty yards of the driveway. They also raised when he started either vehicle. Laquez sat in the Aston for about forty-five seconds before shutting it off and exiting. He stood by the driver’s side door and looked over at his thunder cloud gray Camaro, then over to his pitch-black Range, with fully tinted windows. These were his ego boosters, for sure. He smiled arrogantly. Then he looked to his left at his souped-up customized Isuzu Via Cross. Though it was older than the other three vehicles, it was his favorite. Only 1,500 were ever made, and

none were as stylized as his. He patted the SUV on the roof as if it were an obedient dog, then he walked past it, took a left up the stairs, and entered his luxurious abode. Laquez’s three-story panoramic stucco-style home was nothing short of fantastic. Fancy as they come, and then some, this lavish dwelling was a marvel to any interior decorator. To try to describe its allure and extravagance would only cheapen its visual design and style. It contained huge rooms, glossy wooden floors, plush carpets, sophisticated tiling, marble and onyx countertops and cupboards, expensive ceiling fans, crystal chandeliers, and there was even a water fountain positioned in the center of the house that displayed dynamic light shows. The upper level was where the ten bedrooms were located. The master bedroom contained one of three full bathrooms, all of which were equipped with large Jacuzzi tubs and a three-headed shower with tinted glass sliding doors. There were king-size beds in each room, dressed and quilted. Unique dressers and an armoire complemented each room, along with sitting chairs of various colors, all leather with pleated designs. The carpet coordinated with the color patterns of the rooms. On the second level was the entertainment area. It consisted of plush furniture, flat-screen TVs with surround sound, amps, and woofers. There were elegant glass tables with golden frames and a full bar and pool table. All the furniture was organized and positioned to entice the eye and impress. Nothing was random. Everything had its place and its purpose. Hardwood floors and tiles covered this area. The second of the three bathrooms was on this level as was the kitchen, decorated with all state-of-the-art appliances, all very costly and efficient. On the lowest level, there were four additional rooms, all carpeted except for one of the rooms, which had padded flooring. This room was used for recreational exercises, and it resembled a small Planet Fitness. The other three rooms on this floor were empty, being that he hadn’t found any use for them yet. This was where the third bathroom was located. The level that Laquez entered from was the second. The first thing he did upon entering was check his messages. He had the ability to check his messages from

his cell, but he liked to wait till he got home. It gave him something to look forward to. His call log showed that he had thirty-four new messages. As usual, he played every message, listening to the first three seconds to determine if they were worth being addressed before deleting. Only two messages intrigued him, but there was nothing urgent. He decided to shower and change. If he felt like some entertainment after that, he would weigh out his options. He headed up the stairs to the upper level where he usually showered, mainly because it was the floor his bedroom was on. It was more convenient. Up there, he stripped, threw the worn clothes in the hamper, and looked at his self in the full-length mirror attached to the bathroom wall. He eyed his physique, iring his muscles, flexing them just to watch them ripple and tighten. He was so full of himself that there wasn’t a compliment that anyone could give him that he hadn’t already given to himself. Fascinated by his reflection, which he should be well tired of, or at least used to, but wasn’t, he struck poses for two to three minutes, observing every bulge before finally blowing a kiss to himself and getting in the shower. The water felt good, hot, all the showerheads activated and spraying at full blast from different angles all around him, massaging and soothing his body. He allowed the water to caress him into temporary oblivion. He lathered up and washed. He got out feeling rejuvenated. He dried off thoroughly and opened the door to leave the bathroom, but before he did, he cleared the mist off the mirror for one last look. He really did love what he saw. Quickly he changed into a gray Champion sweat suit for comfort. He put some fresh Ziggs on his feet and padded out of the room and down the stairs to the lower level. The instant he got there, he looked at his answering machine and saw that the red light was flashing. Someone had called while he was in the shower. He noticed that he had three new messages. Checking them, he found that one of them was from Jillian Rose. She was one of the fly women he entertained from time to time. Another was from his mother, Sya, which wasn’t all that surprising. And the last one, which caused a lump to rise in his throat, was from Jesse.

Things were starting to get crazy. There was nothing unusual about her calling his home and leaving messages. In fact, it would have been unusual for her not to, considering how he had left the office earlier. What was crazy was the way he felt all of a sudden and how edgy he became just by the sound of her voice. She sounded normal, a bit befuddled because for one, the way he had rushed past her at the office. And two, what he had said in ing, which was “Good night, Jesse. See you tomorrow.” That would not have been odd if tomorrow wasn’t Saturday. In response to her message, he slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead and shouted. “Idiot!” His emotions were flushed. “What was I thinking? I knew it was Friday. Damn!” Again, he listened to Jesse’s message, more attentively, trying to pick up on any hint of disappointment, uncertainty, or skepticism, anything. But no matter how hard he listened, there was nothing out of the ordinary that he could detect in her tone, or that revealed how she felt about his peculiar behavior. He critiqued it for a third time, with painstaking care. “Hey, Laquez…it’s me, Jesse. I was checking to see if you were all right. You seemed kinda bugged before you left. Plus, you said you’d see me tomorrow. Didn’t know we were working on weekends now.” She giggled. “Well, anyway, if you need me to come in tomorrow, give me a buzz tonight so I can prepare… set my mental alarm. Just don’t wait till last minute, okay? Later.” The message ended just like that. The noose had just tightened. At least that’s how he perceived the situation. His departing statement put him in a very uncomfortable position. But on the one hand, it gave him a reason to call her tonight, and he wanted nothing more than to do that. He wondered how long he should allow the talk to go on. He realized that he was as excited as a high school kid who was anticipating asking the girl of his dreams to a drive-in movie, which he knew she would gladly accept. He couldn’t wait to call her now. But before he called, he needed to think it through completely and thoroughly.

He began to pace back and forth, to and fro, all the while talking extensively to himself, weighing out the pros and cons, trying to find the best angle or approach. He could just say, “Hey, Jesse, sorry about the confusion. I was distracted. No work till Monday.” But when he thought of the phrase “I was distracted,” he was leery that she would take that to mean he was distracted by their earlier interaction. Perhaps he was misinterpreting this whole situation. Maybe he assumed incorrectly. Maybe there was no moment between them that she was aware of. If that was the case, then he wasn’t sure that he could ever face her again, especially considering the way he felt; to not have those feelings reciprocated was a thought too depressing to ponder. An hour had slipped by, and he still had not called. All that pacing and contemplating had gotten him nowhere. He decided to sit down and think for a bit in a place he enjoyed, the best place for thinking, his den. It consisted of a large window with a view that overlooked a beach. In the den, he dimmed the lights and sat in his favorite armchair. He gazed out the window. He sat there for fifteen minutes without any thoughts, just calming his nerves. In a calmer state of mind, he saw that the best solution was to just call her and let the conversation unfold as it may. He grabbed the phone and quickly dialed her number. The phone rang twice. On the third ring, she answered. “Hello,” she said expectantly. For a second, he froze, becoming so nervous that the lump in his throat restricted him from breathing, let alone talking. It took tremendous effort for him to swallow it down and gain his composure. “Hey, Jesse.” He hoped she couldn’t hear how jittery he was. “Hey, Mr. Fortell,” she replied jubilantly, “guess you got my message.” “Oh. Yeah,” he replied, edgy. “About that…I didn’t mean to say I’ll see you tomorrow. I meant Monday.”

Her hesitant response told him that she didn’t buy his explanation. “Why don’t I believe that?” was her skeptical reply. He had no idea how to answer her. She picked up on his silence and decided to press the issue. “What’s up, Laquez? Everything cool with you?” “Oh, yeah!” he blurted too quickly. “Actually, I was a bit preoccupied. The meeting took longer than I expected.” “Uh-huh.” She urged him on. “Yeah. Those guys can’t do anything without me.” Another statement he knew she didn’t buy. He didn’t like the direction the talk was taking. Before she could comment on what he just said, he swiftly added, “Well, I just wanted to touch base with you, let you know there’s no work tomorrow. I’m sorry about the confusion.” “No need to apologize.” She soothed, sensing his uneasiness. “I’m here to hold you down whenever you need me, Boss.” There was certainly a hidden connotation in that remark, one that Laquez instantly picked up on. It was an innuendo, an invitation of sorts, subtly spoken as to not reveal too much. It set off bells nonetheless. His heart was warmed to the core. He knew that if he spoke right then, the joy in his voice would betray the calm, cool demeanor he was attempting to portray. He surprised himself with his reply. “I’m going to hold you to that.” “Oh. Please do.” She flirted. That was it. He knew that if he didn’t find a smooth way to end the phone call, the emotions he was feeling would cause him to blurt out “I love you” as if he were Natasha Bedingfield singing her hit single. He had to keep his composure, and he was sure that any second, she would say something that would further his assumption that there was something special brewing between them, which had always been there, only suppressed. Now it wanted out.

“This is getting too intense for me,” he said with as much casualness and humor as he could muster without giving himself away totally. “It’s making me anxious for Monday to get here.” “Oh, yeah?” Her voice seemed to take on a semi-erotic tone. “And why’s that?” He couldn’t believe what was transpiring. “Because…,” he said solicitously, pausing slightly for effect, “for some reason I am really looking forward to seeing you. I mean…” He stumbled bashfully. “In a professional manner, of course.” “Oh, poooey!” she complained artificially. “Always business. Well then, I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Boss.” He laughed with an heir of coolness. “Okay, Jess…Monday then.” He heard the phone click dead in his ear. Reflexively he let out a deep breath, which felt as if it would never cease. He was so gracious that she ended the call the way she did. As it stood, everything was subtle. He liked subtle. Not surprisingly, after the call, he felt invigorated. His energy level had soared. He felt wonderful. If this was love, then it was even better than the movies and romance novels portrayed it to be. Much better than all the talk. Tonight, he was sure, he would get no sleep, nor would he venture out. All he wanted to do was sit with a stiff drink and think of what life married to Jesse would be like. For the remainder of the night, he did just that until he fell asleep watching the light show through the water of his fountain.

Chapter

3

Laquez woke up early the next day, around seven o’clock. This was the norm for most mornings. He liked to get a good workout in before he started the day. After twenty-eight minutes of intense calisthenics, he made himself a nice breakfast and sat at the kitchen table, looking forward to a new day. He had entered a stage in his life he had not yet experienced. The stage of being in love. The last thing on his mind upon sleep was Jesse, and she was the first thing on it that morning. The subtle but tangible hints she had given him led him to believe that she felt as he did. The code was broken, and there was no turning back. He even made mental preparations for the commitment he believed was coming. He decided this would be his last weekend as a single man. So, he planned to enjoy it to the fullest. The first thing on his daily agenda was to hook up his hitch so he could tow one of his toys to the track he owned on the outskirts of Norwalk, Connecticut. On occasion, he leased the track for extreme sport purposes, like X Games and stunt derbies. But twice a month, he and one of his good friends, Yacub Porte, met there to go riding to enjoy the entire track by themselves. By the time he was all dressed in his riding gear and the trailer was all hitched up and ready to go, it was 8:30 a.m. It was about an hour’s ride to reach the track. Yacub he knew would be there by the time he arrived. He lived ten minutes closer to the track than Laquez did. He thought of calling Jesse the moment he got behind the wheel of the Range Rover. He wasn’t sure what she’d be doing. So, he decided against it. This would be his final wild weekend, and if he thought of her, of the feelings he had, it would restrict him from certain erotic pleasures he wanted to indulge in one last time. It was on that note that he cleared his mind of Jesse and started up the Range. The garage door ascended, and he headed out. As it descended, he put the vehicle in gear and hit play on his stereo system. A hard tune began pounding

through his speakers. He sang along, feeling untouchable. “We hard as gorillas, we balling you in conference with killers. We buying whips at the auction, smoking cigars at the dealers. Nigga, I’m illa craps, keno, at casinos…only C-notes and over…Uh!” The Range rolled on, doors vibrating as the base thumped.

*****

At exactly 9:30, Laquez pulled up in the lot. Just as he presumed, he saw Yacub leaning up against his metallic Chevy Tahoe. He was also clad in biker gear. He was puffing on a spliff. Laquez exited his Range, and both men walked toward each other. When they got close enough, they greeted by pumping fists. “What up, couso?” Laquez chimed. “Chillin’. Chillin’.” “You ready to get burned?” Laquez threw out there. “Not today. You got lucky last time.” “We’ll see. We will see.” Laquez looked to his right and noticed that Yacub had already unloaded his bike from the trailer hitched to his Cadillac. It was leaning on its kickstand. “I see you’re already set and ready. Let me do the same.” Laquez returned to the Range and began unloading his bike. As he was doing so, he heard the engine of Yacub’s bike rev up. A few minutes later, he had his bike on the pavement, the engine idling smoothly. He revved it twice then looked up at Yacub. “You ready to get it popping?” “All day!” Yacub shouted back. “Let’s get it.”

Both men rode casually to the entrance, where the track began, which consisted of ten kilometers of dirt road, composed of jumps, dips, ditches, embankments, and dangerous curves. The goal whenever the two of them raced was to see who would reach the finish line first. It began and ended at the starting point. Whoever was in the lead after five complete laps was the victor and claimed bragging rights. The track could be seriously dangerous if caution was not taken. So, they wore full protective gear and remained mindful of each other. Both men were really good riders and stuntmen. Almost if not as good as the professionals. Watching them ride was quite the spectacle, especially since they were both show-offs who liked to add spice and finesse to the jumps and turns. This included popping wheelies on the straightaway. For the most part, they were equally matched, neither ever losing back-to-back races to the other. Two weekends ago, Laquez beat Yacub by a front tire. But two weeks prior to that, Yacub won by the length of his bike. Laquez intended to make history this time by being the first to win back-to-back. Yacub, on the other hand, was determined to see that it never happened. At the starting point, both men prepared and readied themselves with anticipation. Laquez looked over at Yacub from behind his tinted helmet visor. “You ready?” “Hold on,” Yacub commanded, off put. “Last week you called ‘Go.’ This week it’s my turn.” “No doubt,” Laquez agreed humbly. “So how you gonna call it?” “I’m going to call the ready, set, go instead of the one, two, three…all right?” “Whatever, family.” “Okay then. On my signal.” Laquez nodded. “Ready? Set? Go!” Both men took off, popping wheelies in unison for the first fifty yards. By the time they lowered their front wheels to the ground, they were approaching their first jump. They sped along, keeping a safe distance from the other.

Seconds later, they hit a 30-foot-high mound, launching into the air. Soaring Yacub did a 360-degree side-hat stunt, while Laquez completed a double back somersault with his bike. Their stunts were executed perfectly, and their landings were flawless. Rapidly they came upon three smaller mounds. They hit the first one. While gliding, Laquez kicked both feet straight out to his left. Yacub whipped the entire rear end of the bike to his right. On the second mound, Laquez kicked both feet right, Yacub hip-whipped his bike to the left this time. And on the third mound, Laquez kicked his legs back and extended, holding the handlebars as if flying, while Yacub surfed his, squatting on the seat, holding one handlebar as he hovered. They hit the dirt and sped up, both knowing there would be no jumps for a stretch. They raced on until they reached some hair-raising twists and turns. They took the curves dangerously low, conquering one turn and twist after the other. Unwilling and determined not to give even an inch. They rode conscious of what was to come and prepared their minds for the task. After the twisting and turning, they came to a hundred-yard straightaway. The time came to gain speed and ground on the opponent. A serious jump approached, a fifty-foot mound. Both riders hit it speeding. Laquez glided, and as the bike soared, he climbed to his feet until he was standing fully erect, arms raised high for a split second. Yacub decided to launch into a triple somersault. They stuck the landing and raced on. A row of mounds approached. All ten of them were approximately twenty feet high. They hit each hump with plain hops in order to gain a distance advantage. They held pace. A fifty-yard trench sucked both bikers in after the jumps. The riders hit the embankments, one left and one right, riding along the walls, zipping side angled. Both avoided the muddy water at the bottom of the trench, clinging to the embankment walls. The trench ended, and both men crisscrossed and hit the opposite embankment to clear the next trench, then one more. After the trenches came the dips. There were places in the track, in seven rows, that literally dropped out about ten

feet and rose up after. The trick was to bunny-hop the bike consecutively at each row while doing sixty-five miles per hour. They cleared it with ease. The track leveled out. Presently Yacub led. The track began to turn and twist again, then curved 180 degrees. The riders reduced speed. They were neck and neck as the bend was made. They cleared it coming to another clean stretch of track. The last jump approached. The starting point was close. The monster jump even closer. The mound was phenomenal! It rose up a full sixty-five feet. Once the mound was cleared, the track leveled out to another hundred-yard runway leading to the start/checkpoint. They gained speed for the incredible jump. Hitting the mound simultaneously, they launched into the sky. Laquez executed a top spin where he and his bike were leaned fully to one side, horizontally rotating as he soared, resembling a spinning top. Yacub countered, causing his bike to corkscrew horizontally, as he flipped upside down, then right side up again. They landed and raced to the checkpoint to complete the first lap. Four laps of unbelievable excitement sped by. The riders were on the last lap. The killer jump and final stunt completed. They raced down the speedway, just one hundred yards left. They were still neck and neck. They pushed their bikes, full throttle. Then, at the very last second, Laquez’s bike shot forward by a wheel, same as last race. They shot by the finish line but managed to slow their bikes, so they halted side by side. Laquez lifted up his visor. Yacub ripped his helmet off in disappointment. They looked at each other, Laquez with a smile, Yacub sour faced. “What did I tell you?” Laquez gloated. “Whoooo!” He raised both arms in triumph. “Yeah!”

Yacub glared with agitation but then couldn’t help but smile too. “Man…you got lucky and you know it. I guarantee I win the next two races.” “Yeah…I doubt it!” He was enthused. “I broke the cycle doe. Damn! Now you’re playing catch-up.” “For how long?” Yacub walked up to Laquez and patted him on the back. “Enjoy it while it last.” They both smiled broadly. “So what you got going after this?” Laquez thought for a moment. He ed why he felt more mirth today than most others. “Guess what, family?” he asked, ecstatic. “What?” “I’m in love.” The words came out exuberantly. “What? You? Love? Who?” He was caught totally off guard by the news. “Yeeaah, right.” “Nah! I’m dead serious!” And he was. “And you’ll never guess with who.” “Who? Jesse?” he said in jest and giggled. But when he saw the look in his friend’s eyes, his eyes opened wide. “Noooooo!” Laquez nodded excitedly. “I was just jiving when I guessed her. That was the last person I expected.” He was bedazzled. “When? I mean, hooww did this happen?” “I guess I’ve always felt it…deep down. But I…uh…” “Your code,” Yacub answered. “So, no more code?” “Yeah. There is. That’s what made it complicated at first.” “Does she even know?” “What?”

“How you feel?” “I believe so, but not a hundred percent yet.” “Huh?” “Well…yesterday, we had a moment. Never have I felt a connection to her like that. It was odd, so sudden, but really intense. Then she called me last night. There was a serious energy between us.” “Are you sure?” “Kind of.” “That doesn’t sound assuring. And what do you plan to do anyway?” “I’m gonna make it happen.” “Really?” “Really.” “And screw your code?” “Screw it!” “Well then, I’m happy for you, man. For real.” He thought a bit. “How serious do you want this to get?” “Marriage, kids,” Laquez stated, indefinite. “Get the fuck outta here!” Yacub blurted, somewhat amazed. “I’m serious,” Laquez defended. “For real?” “For real, couso. She’s the one, always has been. I never felt this way about another woman. And I believe she feels that way about me too.” “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…she gave some subtly but clear hints the other day. She literally said she had my back and would hold me down whenever I called.” “That could mean as friends or coworkers.” “True, but I doubt it. I know her.” “You should probably still run it by her before taking that big leap…just to be sure.” “Yeah.” Laquez got the message instantly. “I hear you. But you know me, cous…if I didn’t feel it, I wouldn’t do it.” Yacub smirked in agreement. “So when you going to make it official?” “Monday,” he informed. “That’s why this weekend I’m going to sow my royal oats.” “Oh. I see.” Yacub nodded. “Yeah, man…I’m going to enjoy these last days of being single.” “And Tasa’s history, huh?” he inquired, concerned somewhat. “You know she’s going to burst a blood vessel when she finds out. She’s already bugged as it is.” “I know.” Laquez thought worriedly. “That’s why I’m not telling her shit. For the time being, I’m going to avoid Mrs. Psycho.” “Good luck with that one.” “Auh!” Laquez waved it off. “So what about you? You want to me at the yacht this weekend? I’ve got plenty of the choicest vaginae accompanying me for my last rendezvous, all super bad and ripe for the sticking.” Yacub chuckled. “Nah, man. I’m good. I’m ah be chilling with my shorty.” “Sucka for love ass, gullible ass, trick ass nigga,” Laquez chanted humorously. “So you still with old girl?’ “Yeah. That’s my baby.”

“Hm…I can relate…now. Soon I’ll be on the same page.” “No doubt.” They were silent a second, lost in their own chain of thought, until Laquez broke the silence. “You know, man…right now…life seems too good to be true.” Yacub pondered those words for an instant. “You ever think that maybe that’s because it isn’t.” “Huh,” Laquez murmured, perplexed. “What do you mean?” “Well, you said life seemed too good to be true,” Yacub repeated. “What if it’s not true? What if this is all in our heads?” “You sound crazy,” Laquez stated, dismissive. “In over seven billion people’s heads? And at the same time?” “That’s because you’re too closed-minded,” Yacub accused. “You’re so stuck on this life that you won’t accept anything beyond it.” “And what is beyond it? What else is there besides this world that we live in?” “The universe…God.” Yacub offered. “Heaven, the spirit realm. Hell…torture.” “And you believe all that crap?” Laquez rebuffed with indifference. “That’s not even reality. That’s just a bunch of crap men made up to control weaker minds and gain control. Why do you think it is all faith based? You’re just supposed to believe that it’s all true…and blindly. , you’ll never really know until you die, so just trust. A bunch of bull.” It upset him. “No one has ever come back from death to prove it.” “What about Jesus Christ?’ Yacub put in with a challenge. “He’s a myth. An example,” Laquez declared. “And even if he did exist…I’m sure his life was exaggerated.” “I don’t agree, cous.” Yacub held his stance. “The Bible teaches this life is the

exaggeration. And that true peace comes in the next, where we become eternal and pure.” “That’s not even realistic, man.” “Maybe to you it’s not. But to me, it is.” “Do you want to know what true reality is?” Laquez put forth. “For me, along with the rest of the world, reality is that track,” he said, pointing outward. “My bike,” he said placing both hands on the handlebars, “my Rover, my yacht that I’m about to go bone twelve bad dames on, who also happen to be real…flesh and blood. It’s my company, my money, Jesse, power, status, and death. That’s what reality is, my friend. All that shit you talking is just religious conditioning…delusion.” Yacub glared at him intently. In his gaze, Laquez detected a faint sense of pity, which he really could not understand, for he was a man who had everything. How could anyone feel pity for him? Yacub’s gaze softened then, and he dropped his head, bowing as if in silent prayer. When he looked back up, he was smiling. “I hear you, man,” he said casually. “I just think that when God is ready, he will open your eyes to true reality.” “Ah, man!” Laquez sighed. “You sound just like my moms. Where do you get this stuff from anyway? The Discovery Channel?” They both laughed outward, and the mood instantly lightened, a significant moment gone. They started their bikes and rode back to the parking lot. Minutes later, they had both the bikes on their trailers, secured. They met in the space between both vehicles, gave each other dap, and hugged in parting. Laquez headed home with preparations in mind for the day he had planned. His ego needed to be tended to, and there was no better attention than the opposite sex. He would enjoy the last of being promiscuous.

Chapter

4

When Laquez got home, the first thing he did was shower. He trimmed his face then dressed after. He chose a pair of dark blue cargo shorts with a sky gray tank top that hugged his muscular physique perfectly and some gray tube socks, ankle cut with a pair of blue and gray low-cut Merrells. Perched on his head were a pair of tinted gray goggles with a dark blue strap. He was certainly styling. When he was all dressed, he headed out. The women were all aware of the time he would be arriving at the docks, the time they would be departing, and what was expected of them. They were ever so anxious to comply, which was no great wonder. It was one of many benefits of the dollar. Not to mention his status. It didn’t hurt that he was considered eye candy for most women. With preparations made, he again considered calling Jesse, even if just to say hello. But decided against it again. If he called her now, he would lose interest in the others. And if she were to invite him over, he would go. That would be that. Calling her was a bad idea. It was nearing 12:30 p.m. when he finally got behind the wheel of his Camaro. He started it up and put it in gear. When the garage door was up, he backed out, hit the street, and peeled off, tires screeching as he raced away to the docks and his yacht.

*****

The docks were located in downtown Stamford. He noticed upon arrival that the women were all waiting in the parking area for him. Some huddled together in exuberant conversation. Others stood alone, swinging their hair and flaunting their scarcely clad physiques. Cleavage and butt cheeks gleamed sensually on

display. He watched other men mindlessly flocking around them, but they only wanted him today. His ego was sated. He pulled into his parking space but did not get out right away. He wanted the anticipation to build. He also wanted to see how far the men would go to impress these women. Besides, he really wanted to make a grand appearance. The men circled around like sharks at feeding time, becoming bolder by the second. Most of the women ignored them outright. Some smiled politely, offering nothing but a warm greeting. On the seventh minute, he noticed three of the women walking toward their cars with disappointment. He stepped out of his Camaro then and glanced over at the group. He closed the door with a thud and yelled out loud enough for all to hear, “Ladies!” Immediately they noticed him and brightened enormously. They all began scurrying over with excitement. They gathered around him eagerly like teammates anxious to congratulate him on a win. Only instead of pats and hugs of comradeship, he received hugs and kisses with sneaky caresses. His ego beamed. “Ladies…ladies,” he announced, “sorry to keep you waiting.” But he was not. “But I’m here nonetheless. So…without further ado, let’s get this party started.” As the women cheered and jumped up and down around joyfully, he glanced at the men watching. He could see the envy and jealousy festering. He loved each second of it.

*****

Aboard the yacht, the festivities began. Women were nude, parading around on all three decks, while Laquez piloted his boat out to sea. He had no destination in mind. He just wanted to get far enough from the shore so that no matter how wild it got, it would not be detected by those who weren’t included.

At the helm, he was accompanied by two of the finest of the bunch. One was a Brazilian named Helia, and the other was African. Her name was Sambew. Both wore skimpy bikinis, very revealing. They clung to either side of him desperate for his attention, sipping drinks while they whined against him seductively to the music playing on the yacht. “Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake…,” Helia chanted erotically in his ear, her accent making the words sound more provocative. “Make you want to lick the icing off.” Though Laquez felt aroused, strongly aroused, for some reason his focus, or train of thought, as he navigated was not on the time he was having with these women, but on the conversation he had with Yacub earlier, about whether or not this life was true reality. Never had he heard such a theory. Not even from his mother who was or appeared to be holier than thou. She never talked about this life as being an illusion. She mostly stressed the fact that this life was a test and that we had to limit our sins so that we can be blessed in the afterlife. That wasn’t anything like what Yacub proposed. He couldn’t believe it and really didn’t even want to consider that possibility. He had made his point to Yacub right then and there. So why was it troubling him? He knew he was right. He believed that everyone who had any sense would agree with him that this life was undoubtedly the reality. He decided to test his hypothesis. “Sambew…Helia…,” he said, capturing their full attention. He directed his question first to Helia. “What do you live for?” “Huh?” she uttered, caught off guard by the content. “What’s life all about to you?” he reiterated. “Me?” she repeated uncertainly. “Well…happiness, sex…lots and lots of sex.” Her accent was thick and exotic. “Also, money and perhaps, someday, love.” “Okay.” Laquez nodded, consenting. Then he looked to Sambew. “How ’bout you?”

“For me,” she began in her sensuous tone, “it’s about excitement, fun, adventure. Of course, sex, a lot of money, love, and maybe family.” “And that’s the reality, isn’t it?” Laquez stated with confidence. “Very much so,” Sambew exclaimed. Helia nodded in agreement. “And this is real too,” Helia added as she moved in with her mouth parted slightly, pressing her lips and tongue sensually to his neck. She cupped his groin with her free hand. “And this,” Sambew added as she, too, moved in close with her mouth open, parting his lips with her tongue. As their tongues sparred and Helia licked and sucked his neck while massaging his groin, he became totally convinced that this was true reality, the reality of sensation, of touch, of pleasure. It was the reality of the five senses. There was nothing else beyond that. And if there was, he wasn’t the least bit interested. The kissing and groping stopped for the time being. He sailed on for another twenty-five minutes before he found the perfect secluded spot to anchor, where the shore was not anywhere in sight. He roamed the ship from deck to deck, Sambew and Helia on either side of him. Some of the other women had already begun to sexually satisfy each other, some pleasing themselves. When they saw him they either got up to him, or gestured an invitation. The sexual tension was overbearing. Right then and there, he allowed them to strip him down and perform on him. It soon became an all-out orgy. He climaxed on five separate occasions before he was finally spent. Two-thirty a.m. rolled around. The women were content, some sleeping soundly, others allowing the experience to linger. It was then that he decided to hoist up the anchor and sail the yacht back to dock. He reached the shore at 3:40. The yacht was docked and secured by 4:20. The day had been just as wild as he’d hoped, even wilder actually. The women had gotten exactly what they came for and more. For the most part, the departure was sweet, ending with tight close hugs and wet kisses from all. It was 4:45 when he got behind the wheel of his Camaro and pulled out of the parking lot.

On his way home, he stopped at an all-night gas station for an Ocean Spray cranberry juice. He was parched. He was floating emotionally. The night had been such a blast. The scents of all those gorgeous women were still with him. He wondered if he would miss this freedom after the day ended He doubted he would. Love really was much sweeter and more fulfilling than lust or desire.

*****

Laquez entered the gas station, walked straight to the cooler, and grabbed two bottles of Ocean Spray. He brought them to the cashier and set them on the counter. The store clerk approached, a twig, thin figure of a man with bifocals perched on the bridge of his nose. His hair was a shaggy brown mop of a do. He made slight eye with Laquez then rung up his purchases. As Laquez paid the clerk, he could not help but consider how insignificant this man was, a lowly gas attendant, geeky in every way, inferior as they come. In consequence, he thought, Thank god I’m not him. Laquez turned to leave, twisting off the top of one of the juices as he did. He tilted the bottle up and began gulping its contents. He placed the second bottle against the store door, preparing to use it to open it. Before he could push, he felt the door being tugged open. When he looked down, removing the open bottle from his mouth, he came face-to-face with Tasa Richards. She was entering the gas station as he was leaving. When she saw him, the surprise in her eyes converted to suspicion, then to anger, and suddenly confusion. Her clear blue eyes stared fixedly into his. Her blonde hair hung down past her shoulders, feathered with body. Her blonde eyebrows were also thick, but they were trimmed nicely. Her skin was a pinkish tint, her features imposing, prominent. Her lips glowed bright red with lip gloss. Her beauty was natural even without makeup. She was clad in a one-piece fitted sky blue dress, thigh cut and extremely revealing, exposing cleavage, and hugging every curve. She was a dime piece by any standards. She wore fishnet stockings and black raised heels that looked quite dangerous.

It was obvious, not just by her appearance but by the fact that it was 5:00 a.m. and she was at a gas station, that she had been out partying. “Hey, Tasa,” he said cumbersomely. “Hey, Laquez.” She returned with scorn. “Been trying to call you for a few days now. What you been up to?” “Uh…work,” he said, put out. “You know, staying busy.” “Bullshit!” she spat with cynicism. “Just seventy-two hours ago, we were fucking each other’s brains out. Were you so busy then?” “Look, Tas,” Laquez stated defensively, “we broke up eighteen months ago.” “Yeah, but you’re still fucking me.” Emphasis added. “True, but that was by agreement” was his rebuttal. “We agreed to be friends with benefits.” “Ahh! The benefit of fucking.” Her sarcasm was thick. “Why do you keep saying that?” “What? Fucking.” “Yes.” “Because it’s the reality, isn’t it?” That word again. He’d heard or said that word a million times. But as of late, it seemed to take on a different connotation every time he heard it. “Tas, listen,” he said, pleading, “I’m really tired and…” “Why…,” she inquired, insistent, “were you out fucking all night?” “Looks like you were out too.” “I wasn’t fucking though,” she clarified. “You know that as well as I.”

“It’s really not my business if you were or not. Just as it’s not yours if I was. Or at least it shouldn’t be. We’re both single, ?” “You are such an asshole!” she blurted out angrily. “Look, Tas, I’m not in the mood for this. Excuse me,” he said with agitation. Although she stepped aside, clearing the path, she did not let up. As he walked quickly to his car, she kept pace fiercely, chatting away. “Why are you so insensitive?” she rambled on. “The least you could do is return my calls. And not just when you want a nut.” He opened the door to his Camaro then turned to her. “Tas, I was…I mean, I am actually glad I ran into you.” He hesitated, considering if this was the right time to tell her. He figured it was as good a time as any. “Tas, I can’t sleep with you any—” “Fuck!” she corrected viciously. “Jeez!” he yelled with impatience. “All right! I can’t fuck you no more, or anyone else for that matter.” “Why? Did your dick fall off? “No.” He paused, dreading her reaction to the answer he was about to give her. “Then what?” Her interest had piqued. “I’m in love.” “Pah!” She burst into laughter so sincere that for a second he almost ed in. It took her a minute to recover, but once she did, she looked him dead in his eyes. It was there that she saw something, something she had never seen in his eyes before. Sincerity. That quenched all remnants of humor. “You’re serious,” she said, as if slapped cold in the face. “You…in love? Who?” “That’s not important, nor is it the issue here,” he stated, leery. “What is important is that you know and accept it.”

She fell silent, and he knew it was not a contemplating or understanding silence. It was one of boiling rage that would soon erupt and overflow. And as if on cue, it did just that. “You bastard!” she screamed as she took a haymaker swing at his head with a balled fist, which he ducked by mere centimeters. And in that same motion, he slipped into his car and started it up. He put it in gear and saw that she was still shouting, tears streaming down her face. Most of her words were inaudible, but he did catch one sad question. “Why couldn’t you love me?’ Her words sunk deep, penetrating his soul. As he drove away, he watched her in his rearview mirror. She stared after him with extreme hatred, yet there was serious hurt and pain in her face. The sympathy and pity he felt for her at that moment so affected him that he actually shed a tear for her. He didn’t notice it until he looked into the mirror, at eyes reflecting back at him, and saw the wet trail streaking down his cheek toward his chin. He became disturbed because he knew something was happening to him, a change, but he didn’t know what, or how greatly it would affect the pattern of his life. In just two days, things had changed so rapidly. It was hard to get a grip on. The scary part was he didn’t know if it was for better or for worse.

Chapter

5

When Laquez pulled into his garage, he was in a really damp mood. The tears had dried, but his heart and soul still wept for Tasa. He knew that he had done the right thing. No matter how he broke the news to her, the reaction would have been the same, with a similar outcome. Hurt. It almost seemed like she refused to accept the fact that they had separated long ago, and somehow, she felt he had betrayed her. But that truly wasn’t the case. There was nothing he could do about falling in love with Jesse, and there was nothing wrong with it either. His heart was his to give to whom he desired, just as his life was his to enjoy as he saw fit. He refused to continue to feel bad for Tasa. He was nothing but honest with her and upfront. Not once did he ever mislead her, or any other woman he was intimate with. So, he should feel no shame or guilt. Perhaps some regrets, but one had to learn to live with those. He got out of his vehicle after a moment. He entered his home and set his keys and cell phone down on the nearest stand and headed straight upstairs to shower. He sat under the hot streams, cleansing himself of the remorse, lust, stress, regrets, and anything else that stained his conscious mind. For him, it was sort of like a baptism, only without all the spiritual properties. It was not a baptism of the soul, but of the physical and emotional. After the shower, he felt purified in a sense. It was 5:50 a.m. He dressed in sleepwear, a pair of Russel sweats and gray cotton T-shirt. He walked downstairs to his bar area and sat on one of the stools to ponder. He felt a serene sense of contentment. As far as he was concerned, he was cleansed of all the filth. Now he wanted only to be with Jesse for the rest of his days. He was more certain of that than anything else in his life.

Reflecting upon the events of the last two days, he concluded that his love for Jesse was the highlight of it all. The downside was the revelation he had gotten from Yacub, topped off by his encounter with Tasa, not to mention the odd feeling he got every time he heard the word “reality.” His life was real. The world was the only reality. The best he could do was justify that talk with his friend as religious babble. Spiritual speculation. Glancing around the room he was in, he took in all the luxury and found he was very fortunate. Life was great to him, unlike the scrawny clerk at that gas station. Life wasn’t fair. Some people were just dealt crappy hands. With that notion, he no longer felt weary, or even sleepy. He decided that he would stay up long enough to have a drink and enjoy his reality. Reality, he thought. There’s that word again. He became uneasy. Why the word suddenly seemed so ominous was beyond his comprehension. He really couldn’t figure out why he felt so unnerved, discomposed, and uncomfortable whenever he thought, spoke, or heard it. It was a sign that something was brewing. He needed that drink. He stood up and walked behind the bar and took a crystal shot glass off one of the shelves. He selected a bottle of cognac and poured himself a double shot. Afterward, he recapped the bottle and returned it to its place on the shelf. He lifted his glass from the counter and headed back to the barstool. With his glass in his left hand, he leaned back against the bar and rested his right arm on the top of it. Fully relaxed, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and raised the glass to his lips. Then the strangest thing happened. The hand that was holding the drink was raised to the point where the glass should have touched his lips and he should have felt the , yet he felt nothing. Instantly he dropped his head and opened his eyes, staring directly at his raised hand. To his surprise, although it was cupped as if holding a glass, there was nothing in it. Dread overwhelmed him immediately. He looked around frantically for the drink.

Had he dropped it, or set it aside absently? No. There wasn’t a glass in sight, nor a spilled drink. Something was terribly wrong here. Glasses of cognac did not just disappear in the blink of an eye. Laquez hopped up out of sorts, but determined to solve the mystery of the vanishing glass of cognac. He retraced his steps carefully, alerted as he scanned the bar area, the counters, shelves, and the floors. But there was nothing. When he got to the shelf where he had taken the glass from initially, he gasped with leery amazement. Before his eyes on that shelf was the glass he had selected for his drink. He distinctively ed where the glass was located before he made the drink and how the space looked once the glass was removed. It was clear in his head. He looked down to the lower shelf and noticed that the cognac was there, appearing as if it, too, had never been touched. This was stifling, something out of the ordinary that never should have occurred. Laquez refused to believe or accept that he had somehow imagined himself getting up and fixing a drink, only to have discovered that he hadn’t gotten up until now. Something like this happened only in books and movies like the Twilight Zone, not in reality. Reality, reality, reality! The word seemed to be screaming at him from within his consciousness. It could not have been a hallucination. He had never before experienced them. He didn’t do drugs. The hardest drug he’d ever tried was weed, and that was so seldom, it could be rendered moot. He had fixed that drink. He was certain. The only solution to this riddle was to repeat the process all over again: to grab the glass then the cognac, to pour the drink, to replace the cognac, walk to the same stool, position himself exactly as he was before, and raise the glass for a sip. Just as he thought it out, he followed those steps precisely. Only this time when he raised the glass, he actually felt it press against his lips. When he opened his mouth, and tilted the glass further, he felt a nice swig of liquor fill it. It flowed into his mouth and down his throat as he swallowed. The burn as it traveled down into his stomach was such a sweet confirmation of the occurrence. He opened his eyes then and looked at the glass. He felt relief. He felt the effects of the booze soon after. His mind had played tricks on him.

He had repeated what he’d previously done. He ed the act then just as clearly as he did the second time. The notion that it was all in his head the first time was flimsy at best. He allowed the drink to coax him. He began to relax a bit. It was then that he heard a very familiar song. “Say a prayer and let the good times roll…in…case…God doesn’t show.” The tune continued. As the song played on, he equated it to his cell phone ringtone. The song was called “Thanks for the Memories” by Fallout Boys. Someone was calling him. Reflexively, he glanced at the clock mounted on the wall behind the bar. It was 6:05 a.m. There were only four people in the world who had his cell phone number. If one of them was calling at this hour on a Sunday morning, something was wrong.

Chapter

6

Laquez jumped to his feet so fast, he nearly spilled what remained of his drink. He set the glass down on the counter then rushed over to answer his cell. “Hello?” he said with noticeable dread. “Hey, Quez,” a familiar voice spoke from the other end, “did I wake you?” A part of him relaxed. The voice belonged to his mother, Sya. However, a portion of him remained on edge, just for the simple fact that it was her, out of all people, calling him this early in the morning. He couldn’t even fathom what on earth she was doing up at this hour. More significant was the fact that there was something in her cool demeanor that made the vibe all the more eerie. “No,” he answered with trepidation. “Actually I was up.” He paused a second, trying to feel out the moment. “What’s up, Mom? What are you doing up so early?” “I can’t sleep,” she said stoically. “Why…what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned, bracing himself for her response. She hesitated for a slight second. In that moment, he felt that what she had to say would affect him severely, in some way or another. She came out with it. “I don’t believe I raised you right.” There was a deep sadness to her tone. “What?” he returned, aghast. “What are you talking about?” “I erred in rearing you,” she said bluntly. “Why would you say something like that. What the hell’s going on?” He was flabbergasted and confused.

“You cherish all the wrong things in life,” she explained with a calm quality so foreign that it bordered on extraterrestrial. “You focus on the wrong aspects of life.” “Mom,” he said with haughtiness, “I’m sitting on over ten billion dollars. I own a company that’s worth seven billion more than what’s in my s. And I’m one of the fliest, smartest men on the planet. And you claim you didn’t raise me right? Wake up.” He quickly became agitated. “Jeez! If it weren’t for you, what I’ve become would not have been possible.” Sya went quiet again. She appeared to be mulling over his words. When she did finally reply, he was taken even more aback. “You exist for all the wrong things.” “Oh, my Lord.” “Do you even believe, to call His name out in vain?” “Oh, here we go,” he cut in begrudgingly. “Finally, we get to the real reason for your early call. This must be another attempt at converting me. You confront me with the God concept.” His cynicism was plainly obvious. “Don’t you think it would’ve been better to bring this up at a decent hour. Or better yet, not at all?” “Every hour is the Lord’s. And every moment has its purpose.” “Oh, yeah?” he quipped in opposition. “So, what was the purpose in the moment Dad got gunned down…by a low-life criminal who thought that justice would be better served if he blew three holes through Dad’s chest for not getting him off on a crime he committed?” His emotions welled up, spinning in a whirl of rage and turmoil. “And if that wasn’t enough, God decided that I should be born without a father. And that you should shoulder the burden of being a single parent.” He let that sink in before concluding, “If God works in such a fashion… then what use is the devil?” Sya was struck silent yet again. For Laquez, it was a moment of triumph. He had finally gotten through to her. He had opened her eyes to the fact that God was nothing more than a folklore. Or so he thought. His triumph and assumption was short-lived. “You’re worse off than I thought.” Her words were genuine, and they stung him

like a slap. “You’re disillusioned.” “I would say the like about you,” he returned coyly. “So would ninety-eight percent of the populace.” “Your father,” she began but immediately decided against entertaining that portion of their palaver. “Laquez, do you really believe that this is all there is to you?” He really did not know how to answer that question. He remained silent, allowing her to elaborate, which she did. The force of her next statement hit him with the strength of a bulldozer, knocking his mental state and equilibrium into discombobulated chaos. His rationale temporarily took a nosedive as her words not only echoed in his mind, but also bounced off the walls of his skull, ringing like gun blasts. “Laquez,” she began gently, “baby, this isn’t real. This life, it’s not true reality. It’s an illusion that we create for ourselves, to protect and construct our egos. But it really doesn’t exist.” The rest of her words were lost to him. He began to feel faint, like he was transcending into another world; his body there, yet, not there. His mind was working, but he could not hold a single thought. His eyes saw, but with blurred vision. He staggered back a few steps. He caught himself once he reached one of the sofas. He collapsed down into it, staring into nothingness, as if in shock. He managed to hold the phone to his ear. Yet, as his mother spoke, he did not hear. Fear had overcome him, and the word “reality” shattered his composure. Reality, reality, reality, reality, reality, reality, reality, reality, reality! He felt on the brink of a complete mental meltdown. He hadn’t the slightest idea of what was happening to him, or why it was happening. His world was flipping, and it took every bit of his willpower to hold it together. I’m all right, he thought. I’m all right. He began to breathe deeply, while telling himself that all was normal, that nothing had changed. Things were as they should be. Suddenly he calmed, and his heart rate slowed. His mother’s voice came into focus. His head was clearing. His equilibrium returned. He gained full composure as his mother was

concluding. “You have to put your faith, whatever little you have, into God.” Back to the God spiel, he thought. He decided he would not entertain this nonsense any longer. He was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. That had to be the cause of that crazy episode he recovered from moments ago. He needed some sleep. His mind was overloaded. “Mom, please?” he spoke softly. “I can’t do this right now. I’m tired, I’m tipsy… and I feel jet-lagged. Can we continue this some other time, after I’ve had some rest?” Sya got quiet for the last time, as she considered his request. She really didn’t want to stress or pester him in any way. She just wanted to sway him to believe. She had the distinct feeling that she would not get another chance to do so. She needed to relay to him how important faith and the belief in God was, particularly at this point in his life. An imminent warning persisted in her gut. Something was coming that she couldn’t protect him from. Intuition came upon her, waking her out of a fitful rest this morning. “Laquez, I really don’t mean to stress you, or trouble you,” she said with tenderness. “But I’m worried. I’m afraid for your well-being, for your soul.” “But you don’t have to be.” “Yes, I do!” she blurted desperately. He heard it clearly in her tone. “Yes, I do,” she repeated, more composed. “I don’t fully understand it, but I have to. And right now, I need you to listen to me. I don’t know when…and I don’t know how, but your life is about to change. Some things you won’t understand or believe are about to take place. You have to prepare. You have to trust in God. And you will have to accept.” Laquez listened to her intently. And what he came to believe was simply this, that she had finally lost her goddamned mind. He was stunned by her solemn revelation. She sounded like a hysterical nun who was bent on scaring him into faith. He truthfully felt like hanging up on her, or at least telling her to shut up. But he wouldn’t dare do that.

The truth of the matter was that she was succeeding in scaring him, especially in light of what he’d experienced just moments ago, before she called. He could not shake the feeling that this was all somehow connected. He couldn’t figure out how that was possible. “Mom, listen, I got to go.” He was cordial. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m all right, really.” “But you’re not.” She implied. “You won’t be all right until you accept that God is real and true.” His mind began working, scanning for a solution to this dilemma. It didn’t take long before he found one. “Okay, Mom,” he said pliantly. “Let me sleep on it. I give you my word that I will thoroughly think on it and consider what you told me. And I’ll call you as soon as I wake up. You can tell me what I’m ignorant on as far as God is concerned. But you have to be patient with my questions and impartial to my views and opinions. Deal?” “Are you being serious?” she asked, skeptical. “Have I ever lied to or misled you before?” “No,” she itted. “You never have. I just…” She let that sentence die away. She didn’t want to pressure him any further. “I love you, honey.” “I love you too Mom.” The exchange was authentic. “Was there anything else… Are you doing well?” “Yes baby,” she said with certainty. “I have the Lord. Sleep well, okay?” “I will.” After they hung up, he looked at his cell phone and saw it was almost 7:00 a.m., and he still was not in the least bit tired. He was more disturbed now than he had been prior to that phone call. His mother had just given him a more detailed of what he and Yacub touched on. She had declared that his life was not reality. Yacub had merely raised the question.

It all seemed so surreal. There was a connection; this was all linked. He was just too clouded to piece it together. He needed rest. Where was his drink? He looked fearfully toward the bar and was relieved to find it still there. Casually he walked back over to the bar and perched on the stool. He grabbed the glass and gulped down its contents. It was coaxing; first the burn, then the tension slowly ebbed away, and his muscles relaxed. One more drink would put him exactly where he needed to be. He walked around the bar and made himself another double shot. He took a nice swallow of the cognac right there, behind the bar. Again, the burn, followed by an easing of tension. He was on his way back to the stool when his home phone rang. His eyes went to the wall clock. 7:35. It most certainly had to be his mom again with one last script she wanted to recite. But when he answered, the voice he heard caused his bowels to bubble with nervous energy. “Laquez…,” the voice said with dreaded enthusiasm. “Hello,” Laquez replied equally jittery. “Who’s…” “Hey, man, it’s me. I’m in trouble,” the voice revealed frightful. “Can you meet me at Brisbee’s?” Brisbee’s was a café in the east side of Stamford, fifteen minutes from Laquez’s home. With evaluation came recognition. “Marv?” Laquez asked with shaky discretion. “Yeah, man, I’m in a real jam.” Marv was short for Marvin Gates, a longtime friend whom Laquez met in college and instantly connected with. Marvin spent most of his time in Hartford, where he lived with his wife and kids. Once in a while, he came to Stamford to visit. It was not like him to call so early and in such a frantic state. He seemed terrified. There was no way Laquez would blow him off in a situation like this.

“What’s up man? What’s wrong?” “I can’t talk over the phone,” he stated with paranoia. “Then come here.” “No!” he shouted. “Too dangerous. They could be following me. I can’t allow you to get involved.” There was a slight pause as if Marvin was distracted by potential threats, then he came back to the line. “Listen…come here. There’s a lot of people here. I think we’ll be all right.” “Should I call Dyvee?” Dyvee Spencer was another of Laquez’s closest friends. He was a detective for the Stamford City Police Department. “NO!” Marvin yelled with malleable fear. “No cops. Just come alone man. Please? I’ll be waiting.” Then the line went dead. Things were going haywire. He could not believe how event after event was unfolding. It was uncanny. First, he discovered his love for Jesse. Then his friend Yacub polluted his perception of reality. He hallucinated making a drink. His mother confirmed his friend’s hypothesis. And now this. Something was amiss, and he seemed to be the focus of it all. In a hurry, he rushed upstairs to his bedroom to change. When he was dressed, he headed out, jumping in his Isuzu Via Cross because it was the closest vehicle to him upon exiting his home. He needed to be at Brisbee’s ASAP. Marvin sounded like he was in dire straits. His life was being threatened. Laquez backed out, hardly giving the garage door sufficient time to raise. The instant he hit the street, he skirted off. The feeling that time was of the essence kept nipping at his consciousness. Marvin was in trouble, and Laquez would do whatever he could to help. Even if that meant putting his own life at risk. He was feeling the effects of the alcohol, but it had lessened due to adrenaline and fear. His mind was racing. So much was going on. He hadn’t even had time to assess the previous events long enough to make sense of them.

Now this. He truly feared what was next to be revealed. The sepulchral vibe he felt the closer he got to Brisbee’s intensified his dread tremendously.

Chapter

7

Laquez pulled into the parking lot and parked right next to Marvin’s Ford Explorer. He knew it was Marvin’s because of the bumper sticker displayed in the rear window, which was the original ornament he used to decorate the rear window of the vehicle he had in college. It said, “Mad Marvin.” He had made the sticker himself while in graphic design. It was tie-dyed with marijuana leaves scattered throughout the letters. Laquez exited the vehicle and with leeriness surveyed the area of the lot. He found nothing out of the ordinary, or any suspicious people. He closed the door and looked toward the café. Through the double pane glass doors and windows, he saw quite a few people inside. Many of the tables by the windows were occupied. Marvin, however, was nowhere in sight. He was possibly seated at a more discreet location, somewhere within. Cautiously Laquez headed over to the entrance, pulled the door open, and stepped inside. The place was a decent size. It provided adequate space for the diners to eat with a sense of personal space and a touch of privacy. There were tables to the left and right of the entrance. Booths ran along the windows, and stools lined the counters enclosing the cooks’ area. There were ceiling fans above many of the tables. To the right of the cooks’ area, a hall led to the rear of the café where the bathrooms were located. There were two thirty-two-inch TVs in the east and west wings, mounted to the walls. One was for entertainment and the other strictly for keno. It was by the keno TV that Laquez located Marvin, seated alone, nursing a coffee as he stared at the keno screen as if awaiting the winning numbers. There was one other person, a man, occupying that section. Marvin was seated a safe distance away so that any conversation they had would not be overheard.

Laquez moved nonchalantly toward that section, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Marvin was so preoccupied with his worries that he didn’t even notice Laquez approaching until he was right up on him, practically looming. Marvin looked up, startled at first, until he recognized the man who stood before him. A huge smile played over his face, momentarily replacing the worry that was just engraved there. “Laquez,” he said, rising to embrace his pal. “My man.” They hugged, patting each other’s backs as they did. “Hey, buddy,” Laquez responded as they separated. “You look awful.” Marvin Gates stood about five feet, six inches tall, corky, with a paunch for a belly. He was dressed in a pair a navy blue Dockers, a white sleeved dress shirt, and a pair of black loafers. His black Casio watch hugged his wrist as if too small. His shirt was visibly stained, and his pants were all wrinkled, as if he’d been sleeping in them. His skin appeared pale. His hair was in disarray, brownish, and balding at the top. His eyes were huge, dark brown, and a bit bloodshot, with bags beneath them. His cheeks sagged slightly, and his nose was a bit pudgy and red as if he’d been crying all night. The bags were an indication of that. Usually he was cleanshaven, with the exception of a mustache, which was kept trimmed. On this occasion, the stubble was thick, as if he hadn’t seen a razor in days. He looked himself over then replied, “Yeah. I bet I do.” His expression went somber again, sullen. “I haven’t been home in three days. Beth and the kids are worried sick.” “Are they okay?” “Yeah. They’re safe, as long as I stay away.” He surveyed the café keenly. “I’m the one who’s not doing so well.” They took seats across from each other. “So, tell me what’s going on,” Laquez urged.

Marvin sighed a sigh that clearly expressed his anguish. “It’s a complicated story…short, but complicated.” Laquez sensed the hesitation in Marvin and moved to ease his doubts. “Do you feel comfortable here? Want to go somewhere else?” Marvin shook his head, indicating that they were good. “Nah. We’re straight here.” He fell silent, as did Laquez, allowing Marvin to collect his thoughts. He knew that whatever he was about to tell him was pertinent and that it would potentially be life altering for them both. A second later, Marvin came out with a most shocking statement. “I’m a dead man!” he stated this with finality. “Huh?” Laquez uttered, caught completely off guard. “It’s true,” Marvin elaborated. “It’s just a matter of time before they find me… and kill me.” Laquez just stared at him, in petrified awe. “That’s why I haven’t been home. I’m afraid that I’d be putting Beth and the kids in harm’s way. I told Beth that I was in trouble and had to lay low for a while. I didn’t get into detail, didn’t even tell her where I was going. But I call every few hours to check in with her and to let her know I’m all right as well.” “What’s this all about?” Laquez finally asked, bewildered. “That’s the thing,” Marvin said with puzzlement. “I’m not a hundred percent sure myself. All I know is that about two days ago, I had gone to buy a bag of wet…you know…some killer angle dust.” “You’re still smoking that shit?” Laquez quizzed with disapproval in his tone. “On occasion,” Marvin answered, self-consciously protective. “I haven’t done it in months. But as I was saying…I bought a bag and went home. When I got there, Beth and the kids were out and not due to be back until later that day. It was about 2:30 p.m. when I smoked what little I had purchased. When I was done, I buzzed some, nothing out of the ordinary. I phased out I think, because the next thing I knew, I was witnessing a murder.”

“What?” Laquez voiced with amazed astonishment. “A murder?” “Yeah,” Marvin continued. “I saw it all. I saw the two goons who offed the guy too. I watched as one pinned the man to the ground, facedown, while the other hacked off both legs, from the knee down, with a machete. The one who pinned the victim down got up, and the machete wielder chopped off his head…clean.” Laquez stared, sickened with awe. “Then things got really weird,” Marvin added, haunted. “I specifically the men gathering up the head, legs, and torso of the victim, which they threw in the trunk of a gold ’89 Buick Regal then skidded off. I must have zoned out again because, in the next instant, I opened my eyes and I was in my home, in the lounge on the sofa. Beth and the kids were home. I could hear them moving through the house. Beth must’ve found me in the lounge asleep, and decided to let me rest. When I got up, I checked the time and saw that it was quarter to twelve AM.” Laquez gazed, unblinking. “I figured it must’ve all been a crazy dream, brought on by the dust…or some type of hallucination…not reality.” Laquez tensed at the mention of the word. Marvin did not notice though. He was too caught up in his story. “I sought Beth out and asked her what time she got back. She said around 11:30 p.m., and at that time, she found me sound asleep.” He shrugged off the enigma. “I thought that was that.” His fear thickened. “Then, I went out later that morning and found that my keys were still in the ignition, but the vehicle was shut off. I was certain that before I smoked that dust that I set my keys on the kitchen table. But that discovery wasn’t the worst part, nor was the fact that before I parked my Ford, the evening before, I was sure that I had a full tank of gas and now the gaslight was glowing when I started the truck.” He swallowed nervously. “I wasn’t all that concerned about that though. It did prompt me to hit a gas station. The nearest one was not even four miles away. I figured I’d go fill it now, before something came up.” His eyes widened as he relived the event in his mind. “I pulled into the gas station, paid for the gas, then began filling up. And that’s when I saw them. They pulled right up to the pump in front of me and stopped.” He was visibly trembling.

“One of the men got out, while the other remained inside. As soon as I seen that gold Regal, my heart started thudding. It became clear, in that instant, that I hadn’t dreamed witnessing the murder. “By the time the other man returned, I was frozen with fear, immobile. We instantly locked eyes. His features will forever be etched into my psyche, especially those dark sullen eyes.” Laquez listened intently, as if memorized. “He glared at me with the fierceness of the devil himself. I stared back, but with fright; intimidation forced me to drop my gaze. Only he continued to stare. I could feel his eyes on me. I felt intense fear at that moment. I felt I would be murdered just like their last victim, just for making eye . I tried to ignore his glare, but it was piercing. I was so happy when the gas nozzle clicked to indicate that my tank was full. I quickly removed the nozzle, capped the tank, and replaced the nozzle. But when I looked up, not only was the guy still glaring, but his partner had gotten out and had ed in the mean mugging.” He became fidgety as he talked, which was a sure indication of how afraid he was and how worried he felt. “They weren’t even pumping gas, Laquez. They were just grilling me, as if they knew something.” His eyes met Laquez’s. “Like they knew that I saw them do it.” Laquez was at a loss for words. It all sounded so far-fetched, so unrealistic. “At that time, I moved to the driver’s seat of my Ford, careful not to make eye with either of them,” he went on. “Just as I was closing my door, I heard one of them say something to the other in a foreign language. I started my truck, and when I looked up to my rearview mirror to back away, I caught a glimpse of the enger pointing his finger at me, as if it were a gun, then he mimicked shooting me…in the face. The smirk on his face was so sinister and the gesture, so sincere.” “They must have saw you watching that night,” Laquez implied with worry. “Impossible!” Marvin rebuked. “They would’ve never been able to see me where I was. Besides, if they did see me, they would’ve certainly reacted to my presence and tried to get rid of me right there and then…while there was no one else around.”

Laquez shook his head in disbelief. “NO! None of this makes any sense.” “You’re telling me?” Marvin’s response was dripping with sarcasm. “Well, if you don’t leaving your house, or returning, after you smoked that dust, then how could you say, with any certainty, that they would not have seen you where you were?” The question, though relevant, seemed to stifle Marvin. “Do you even where you were when you witnessed all this?” Marvin searched his memory and found that he could not even slightly recall the location of the alleged murder, nor where he could have possibly been concealed from the perpetrators, and have a clear view of their criminal activities. That scared him much more. “No,” he itted, spooked. “So, in that case, they could’ve seen you,” Laquez proclaimed. “Or if not you, then your truck.” “But don’t you think they would’ve come after me?” “I don’t know.” Laquez reflected. “Maybe you just misinterpreted the interaction? Perhaps you’re overreacting? It could have just been coincidence that you ran into them at the gas station? And maybe he mime shot you, just because you were looking at him?” It was possible, but highly unlikely. “Nah!” Marvin voiced with conviction. “It was more than that. It was a warning, a sure threat.” “Then what should we do?” “I’m not sure. I haven’t figured that out yet.” “Do you need a place to stay? I can arrange that easily.” “I’m all set at the moment. I should be fine now that I’m out of Hartford. No one knew I was coming, and I’m sure they didn’t follow me all the way here.” He wiped his hand over his face, removing the sweat that coated his brow. “I’m

staying at the Motel 6 on Pine Street…room 6. I’ll lay low there for another day or so. Hopefully all this will blow over.” “Yeah,” Laquez agreed, but he was not at all confident that it would be that simple. “Is there anything I can do for you?” “Actually, you’ve done enough already.” Remorse showed in his eyes. “I’m sorry I dragged you here into this mess. I had no one else I could trust.” “Hey, man…don’t worry about it. I’m here for you. No matter what!” “That is a comfort.” He looked around the café, and when his eyes met Laquez’s again, some, if not all the fear, had dissipated. “I really do appreciate you coming here…and I do feel better. I’m actually considering that I could’ve overreacted. But shit, man…wouldn’t you have too, if you were in my shoes?” “Possibly.” Laquez concurred. “Truthfully though…my shoes haven’t been so pleasant lately either.” Concern covered Marvin’s face. “Really? What’s up, man? Anything I could help with?” “Unfortunately, unlike your issues, mine are all in my head. That’s the disturbing part.” “Well, in that case…you’ll be fine. You have a strong mind.” Marvin stood, and reflexively Laquez followed suit. “Come on man.” He patted Laquez on the shoulder. “Walk me out to my truck. I want to head back to my room, sleep this off. And you can go home and catch yourself some Zs too. You look like you need it. I have troubled you enough as it is.” “Nonsense,” Laquez assured him. “I was having a restless night anyway.” “Well, that’s over now. Come on…let’s go.” Both men headed toward the entrance, Marvin in the lead, Laquez in tow. They walked out into the daylight. Marvin glanced around nervously before continuing on to where his vehicle was parked. When they got there, both men hugged their goodbye, then Marvin got into his Ford. Laquez waited until he was

in gear and driving out of the parking lot before he, himself, got in his Via Cross, started it up, and headed home as well. It was 8:20 a.m., and something told him that the dust had not yet settled. This was just the beginning.

Chapter

8

When Laquez got home, he entered the house with duress, set his cell and keys on the closest nightstand, and walked to one of the leather recliners located in the entertainment area, where he plopped down as if all the energy had drained from him, but he did not kick off his shoes. He wasn’t sleepy, jut exhausted. His nerves were bad, and his muscles were tired. He felt he needed rest, but in his current condition, it would be impossible for him to get it. He was alert, more from his thoughts than his activities. He still felt concerned for his friend Marvin. He was also still put out from his own recent endeavors. He thought of Tasa. He thought of his mom. Then he thought of all this recent talk about reality. He felt as if his life was being altered and rearranged by the second. He began to sink deep into his thoughts, searching for any semblance of reason, any logic that could help him make sense of the last two days or so. Nothing seemed to add up. What was once so ordinary was now anything but. He felt as if his life was shifting into a warped dimension, where nothing was as it should be. Eventually his thoughts became mixed, jumbled, his breathing shallow. He had begun to drift into sleep, to a place of peace, where physical events or issues of the conscious no longer nagged at him. And he welcomed it. Just when he was fading out, he heard it. “Say a prayer and let the good times roll…in…case…God…doesn’t…show.” His eyes snapped open, and he was startled into full wakefulness. Alerted, he jumped to his feet and rushed over to his cell phone. “Hello?” he said with dreaded anticipation. “Quez…” It was his mother, her voice sounded weak.

Laquez looked at his watch before responding and saw that it was 8:55 a.m. He had only dozed off for five minutes. “Mom?” he stammered. “Laquez!” she said with urgency “You need to come to the hospital.” “Hospital? What’s wrong?” “I’m not…well. I feel…” He heard a wheezing sound, a deep gasp for air, then he heard the background noises of a hospital room. “Hello?” he blurted out, super worried. “Mom! Hello? Hello? Hello? Mom, you there?” Nothing. He ended the call and was out the door in a flash.

*****

Laquez arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later, bursting through the ER doors in a hysterical state. He rushed up to the reception desk, desperation in his voice. “My mother!” he exclaimed. “Where is she? What’s wrong with her?” The nurse at the registry desk jumped back, startled, and became more concerned once she noticed the frantic demeanor of the man before her. “Sir, please…try to calm down and tell me who you’re looking for?” “Sya!” he stated, fearful. “Sya Ether.” The nurse’s big blue eyes went from Laquez to the issions sheet. She located

Sya’s name and the exam room she was assigned to. According to the paperwork on her, she seemed to be perfectly healthy and due to be discharged within the hour. “Yes, of course,” the nurse informed. “The doctor has already examined her, and I’m looking at her paperwork right now. It seems she checked in earlier today, complaining of strange feelings. She believed something was wrong with her. The doctor gave her a full physical exam, did some blood work. All tests turned out to show that she was fine.” “Well, can I see her?” he asked anxiously. “Of course! In fact, she can leave as soon as she signs her discharge papers.” “Excellent!” Laquez exclaimed, assuaged. “What room is she in?” “Room 6, straight down the hall and to your left.” “Thanks!” “You’re welcome.” Laquez eased down the hall, prepared to greet his overdramatic mother. He couldn’t help but wonder if this hospital visit was just a ploy, designed to set the mood for yet another attempt at converting him over to her faith. In a way, it tickled him. If she would go through such extremes to try to convert him, then perhaps he should really give it some serious consideration. A moment later, he reached room 6. The door was ajar. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he stopped. Something didn’t feel quite right. He saw that his mother rested atop the bed, her upper body elevated, back propped up against some pillows. She appeared to be sleeping, yet there was something about the way her head lolled to the left side, facing away from him, toward the stand where the phone was stationed. The phone lay on her lap, off the hook. Her left hand hung limply off the side of the bed. His senses heightened, putting him on full alert. As he walked deeper into the room, he noticed a distinct sound, the sound of the phone signaling that it was off the hook. He approached the foot of the bed, eyeing the phone suspiciously. His eyes wandered from the phone to the form of his mother, still, on the bed. He

could now see her face, along with the line of blood that ran from her nose, dripping onto her hospital garb. Panic welled in him so sudden that he tripped on his own foot as he rushed to her. “Mom!” he shouted as he reached out to her. He shook her lightly at first then more aggressively. “Mom!” he shouted again. “Mom!” When he didn’t get even the slightest response from his mother, he began calling for help. “Nurse! Nurse! Help me!” By the time, the nurse burst into the room, Laquez was holding Sya, sobbing uncontrollably, rocking with her in his arms. He was perched on the edge of the bed, sitting so that he twisted, putting them chest to chest, his feet were on the floor, but his arms were wrapped totally around her so that his face was in the crook between where her neck and her shoulder met. Upon seeing this, the nurse quickly retreated and returned with the doctor and two more staff. At first, Laquez would not let go of his mother and threatened everyone to stay back. But they persistently eased him, informing him that if he wanted them to tend to her, then he had to release her and let them see to her. The fact that they were right was enough to have him give in and release her. In the waiting room, Laquez sat alone, crying, while he nervously awaited the prognosis, which he was certain would be that she had died. Yet he gleaned on what little hope he had that it wasn’t as bad as his gut was telling him. He wanted desperately to give in to her and convert. Even if he truly didn’t believe, he wanted her to believe that he did before her time came, which is why he hoped for one last moment with her. That hope was shattered the instant he saw the sullen look on the doctor’s face as he approached him. He was tall, serious in a professional way. His white surgeon’s robe resembled that of the Christ figure, and for a minute, he appeared to Laquez as an angel who had come to give him the news. He was white skinned, with pale blue eyes, a prominent chin, and a hawk-billed nose, slender, about six feet and three inches tall, domineering, yet subtle. His hair was brown and full though he seemed to be well into his fifties. He moved with grace, but also carried with him an air of comion.

Laquez stood as he approached. The doctor stopped a foot before him, switched the chart he was carrying in his right hand to his left, and reached out in introduction. “Laquez Fortell?” Laquez took the proffered hand. “I’m Dr. Paul Strigle.” Empathy stained his features. “I’m sorry but…we were too late.” Laquez released the doctor’s hand and turned away, grief threatening to steal his consciousness, but he fought it back. Tears clouded his vision so fast that all he could do was repetitively wipe them away. Dr. Strigle moved in, putting a consoling hand on Laquez’s shoulder from behind. Laquez was grateful for the comforting gesture, but too choked up currently to voice it. “Please sit down.” Dr. Strigle urged, coaxing him back into one of the waiting room lounge chairs. “I’m going to explain what we believe happened to your mom, and I want to assure you that it was nobody’s fault. We did everything we could. Laquez nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. He continuously wiped tears from his face. “When your mom checked in today,” he began gently, “she said she didn’t feel right. I asked her to be more specific. All she said was that she felt that her time had come. I asked her to elaborate, and again, she said that she just felt strange. So, what I did was give her a full examination, X-rays, MRI, blood work, a complete physical. Her vitals were fine, and physically she seemed healthy. I checked the X-rays, nothing. Same with the MRI. A couple of hours later, the results of the blood work came in. There was nothing unusual.” Laquez’s vision cleared. The tears had dried out. Words still would not come out. His eyes asked the question for him which was “How did she die?” “Your mom died of an aneurysm.” Dr. Strigle revealed as if on cue. “An artery exploded in her head. She died before she ever realized what was occurring.” Laquez understood immediately. He was aware that aneurysms occurred suddenly on occasion, and without symptoms. It was an unfortunate thing which made him hate and disbelieve in the God concept all the more. By the time the doctor gave him the full rundown and preparations were made

concerning the handling of the body, Laquez was no longer grieving, but fuming. His anger and animosity were not directed at the doctor, but with any and everything that had to do with God, spirituality, or faith. He was dissuaded from any hope of divinity. There was no God, no spirit, no soul. Life was what you made it. You lived and then you died. Life experiences were real; money was real; sex, real. The afterlife, heaven…fiction.

*****

Laquez got home at a quarter past 11:00 a.m. He had not slept in the last twentyeight hours, yet he was not in the least bit tired. He was wound up and upset. Sleep would not be appealing to him anyhow. He needed to make preparations for the funeral. He had to prepare and plan on how best to settle all his mother’s s, liquidate all her assets, and transfer everything over to his name. He knew it would hardly be a burden because he was listed as second-line holder. It was just a matter of a few calls, a signature or two, and it was done. At the moment, he just wanted to take a nice hot shower to try to steam massage some of his fears, worries, and doubts and, if possible, all the events that did not coexist with the five senses. Although his mother’s demise was heart-wrenching, it was acceptable because that was a part of life. It was logical and rationally explained, therefore, easier to cope with. People died all the time. It hurt that he would never see her again, but at least he got to tell her he loved her before she ed. That was a true comfort. He reflected on the last seventy-two hours. He needed to make sense of the whole mess. He also needed to strengthen himself a bit before telling his loved ones the terrible news. So, he decided to put it off until the following day. He bounded up the stairs, mood slightly lifting. He entered his room kicking off his shoes and undressing simultaneously. Once he was completely nude, he shuffled into the bathroom and into the shower. It felt even better than he had anticipated. The pressure from the hot streams seemed to penetrate deep in his muscles, releasing most of the tension.

He closed his eyes, cleared his mind of all that ailed and tormented him. He let the water soothe and calm him, mind and body. After the shower, he dressed in a pair of Echo shorts and a fitted white Rawface T-shirt. He headed downstairs to the kitchen to prepare something light to eat. He decided on a roast beef sandwich with Swiss on rye, with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and light mayo and a dab of French’s. He retrieved a snack-size bag of Wise BBQ chips from the cupboard. He hit the fridge for a classic Stewart’s root beer to wash it down. He sat on one of the four stools at the kitchenette when everything was set in place and began eating slowly, fully indulging and relishing the food in that moment. When he was finished eating, he cleaned up after himself then went to the phone to check messages, messages he knew would certainly be awaiting him. He saw that he had forty-two messages. As usual, he skimmed through them, listening to the first few seconds of each before deleting them. Most of them were of no consequence. After erasing three more, he came to one that ruined his moment of serenity. He played it back to be sure he’d heard it correctly. “This shit…is crazy!” Each word was pronounced with exaggerated emphasis, seasoned with hatred, resentment, scorn, and rage. “Are you seriously going to do this to me? Fuck me, then fuck me again?’ It was Tasa and she was furious. “I gave myself to you, with all my love, every bit of me.” Her tone was flustered, distressed. “And you trashed me like I was filth. Now you ignore my calls. I won’t stand by like this and allow you to hurt me. I promise you this…you will get what—” At that moment, he hit delete. He could not deal with her rigid statements any longer. He filtered through the rest of the messages and was relieved to find nothing more of interest. He went into another room to contemplate on whether or not he wanted to watch TV, play a video game, or listen to music, anything to take his mind off the gloom that invaded his life recently. He decided on music, the easy kind. He walked over to the entertainment system and turned it on. He was in the act of selecting a song when his phone rang.

Instinctively his heart dropped, his adrenaline started to flow, and his mouth took on a cotton like quality. He was hard-pressed about letting it ring and allowing the answering machine to get it, but something in him forced him to the phone. After the fourth ring, the machine took the call. The voice he heard, attempting to leave a message, made his blood freeze up in his veins. A chill traveled the entire length of his spine, causing him to shiver. “Laquez, man…” The voice was trembling with fright. “It’s me. They found me, man. I had to run. I barely escaped. They’re gonna kill me. I need you…” Before he could hang up, Laquez picked up the phone. “Marv!” “Laquez.” Marvin sighed with relief. “Thank God man! They’re here, in Stamford, and they’re after me. I wasn’t overreacting. They want me dead.” “Why?” Laquez asked, panicked. “I don’t really know. All I know is when I got back to the motel, I surveyed the area, but they weren’t around. So, I just went inside my room. I called Beth, and I told her I was safe and things were dying down, that I’d be home soon.” The fear Marvin felt was contagious, and it was spreading through the phone to Laquez. “After I called her, I laid down. I needed to rest my eyes for a second. I must’ve dozed off because the sound of car doors closing simultaneously woke me. I got up. I don’t know what triggered my fight-or-flight instincts, but I got up, instantly on edge. And it was a good thing too man, I’ll tell you that. As soon as I got up, I crept to the window, peeked out through the blinds, and the first thing I saw was that gold Regal. When I scanned the area more thoroughly, I spotted them. Both men creeping up on either side of my room door like cops about to raid. Man, I didn’t waste another second there. I ran to the bathroom and jumped out the window. I snuck around to the front, hoping like hell they wouldn’t see me. “I peeked out around the front. They weren’t in sight. I took the opportunity to dash to my truck. Just as I was peeling away, I saw them rush out of my room toward their Regal.” He went silent, as if dread had frozen his vocal cords. The silence was short-lived. “I’m scared, man. Truly petrified. I don’t know what to

do.” “How do you think they found you?” “Damned if I know. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, or where I was going to stay. I just left.” “Well, where are you now?” “Slyworth’s…you know the little pub on Forthill Road?” “Yeah, yeah, I know the place.” “I parked my Ford out back, in case they came along this road they wouldn’t see it.” “Smart move. Just stay low,” Laquez insisted. “I’m on my way.” “Thanks, man,” Marvin said, truly grateful. “Be there soon.” “Okay. Later.” As soon as they hung up, Laquez headed out the door. This time, he took his Aston Martin. He needed something fast in case they had to make a quick getaway. Things just continued to escalate. He had no idea what he was getting into, or the possible outcome. It was dangerous, that much he knew. But his friend needed his help. That’s all that mattered to him. The excitement was definitely becoming too much to deal with.

Chapter

9

Laquez zipped down streets, through red lights, stop signs, and intersections as if he were the police. He wasn’t concerned about getting pulled over, or getting into an accident. All that was on his mind was Marvin’s well-being. A gut feeling told him if he didn’t hurry, his friend’s life would be forfeit. What troubled him most about the whole thing was how sketchy the details were. Marvin didn’t know where the murder occurred or how he managed to be a witness. He claimed that the men didn’t see him, yet they recognized him at the gas station, even threatened him. More bizarre was the fact that they found him although he had left without notice, or without being sure where he was headed himself. It just didn’t add up. Laquez busted another right, zoomed down the road, and cut a hairy left. In another few minutes, he would be within sight of the pub. He hadn’t a clue on how he would be helpful. He brought no weapons. How would they fend off these so-called killers who both had guns? They’d cross that bridge when and if it came. One more turn and the pub came into view. He was not prepared for what he was confronted with. About a hundred yards ahead, directly in front of the pub, he spotted two men standing over a third who knelt before them with his hands held out in submission, as if begging for mercy. Both men held automatic weapons. It became evident what was about to occur. They had found Marvin. He was too late. Still he stepped down hard on the accelerator. The car lurched forward as it gained speed. He was within fifty yards of the trio when he realized how futile his efforts were. Both men let off rounds in unison, point-blank range into Marvin’s face and body. Brain matter, skull fragments, and blood sprayed in an

explosion, eradicating what was once a head in mere seconds. Then both men retreated to their vehicle which was parked a few feet away. They sped away just as Laquez was pulling the Aston Martin to a skidding halt. He slammed the car in park and was out before the dust cleared. He approached the slackened corpse. Blood spatter was all over the scene. Pieces of skull were scattered about, among pulverized teeth. The worst of the gore oozed out of what was left of Marvin’s head. Appalled, he turned away from the body and looked out toward the road, in the direction the Regal sped off in. It was nowhere in sight. His gaze went to Marvin’s body again. Grief overtook him, not just for his friend but also his mother. He had lost two people in one day, under some unusual circumstances. He felt cursed. The realization hit him all at once. He became nauseous. His head began to spin so much that he had to clutch it with both hands to restrict that feeling. He kept his balance. He lost track of where he was for a brief spell. He was brought back to reality the second he removed his hand and looked upon the body. His resolve was beginning to crack. He needed to call for help, and he knew exactly whom to call. He rushed back to his car and located his cell phone. It was on the enger seat. He grabbed it and scrolled through his s till he found the number he was looking for. He hit the call button, and after two rings, someone came on the line. “Detective Spencer.” “Dyvee!” Laquez bellowed nervously. “I need your help. It’s an emergency.” “Laquez?” Dyvee voiced with recognition. “Yeah, it’s me, and I need you now. They killed him, Dyv. They killed Marvin!” “Who killed him?” Dyvee became alerted. “They shot him right in in his fucking face, man,” Laquez stressed through tears he could not control. “It was awful. He’s dead man.”

“Laquez…slow down. You’re freaking me out,” Dyvee asserted. “Just tell me where you are?” “On Forthill Road, in front of Slyworth’s Pub. It’s a mess man, a mess.” “Are you safe?” His question was urgent. “Yes. But Marv’s dead! They straight up executed him.” “Do you know who they were?” “No. I don’t know who they were, but they killed him and drove away in a gold Regal. They headed south on Forthill Road.” “Now who is Marvin?” “He’s a friend from college. They killed him.” “Okay, okay,” Dyvee said soothingly. “Try to calm down. Stay put. I’m going to put an APB out on that Regal as soon as I hang up. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Stay clear of the crime scene.” “I will,” Laquez said, distraught. “I’m going to go inside. I can’t stomach the gore any longer. I’m gonna, I need…a…ah, man. My life is falling apart.” “Laquez, listen to me. Go in the bar and order a strong drink. Don’t let anyone else know about what just happened. I don’t need a bunch of people traipsing the crime scene.” “I won’t say anything. I’m the only one out here right now. It doesn’t look like there are any customers here yet. But this is too much, man. This is freaking too much.” He was becoming unhinged. “Laquez, just do as I say. You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be there soon. I promise.” The call was ended. Laquez tried his best to compose himself before entering the pub. He entered without as much as a glance over his shoulder at what was once Marvin.

*****

Laquez was nursing his second double shot of scotch, having gulped down the first, when his cell rang. “Dyvee?” he uttered, expectant. “Yes. I’m out front, by your Aston Martin. You know you left both doors open and the keys in the ignition?” He looked around the area. “That right there tells me this is serious.” “Damn,” Laquez mumbled. “Now where exactly was your friend killed?” The question alone stunned Laquez, for if Dyvee was right out front by his Aston, there was no way he wouldn’t be able to see the carnage. “What do you mean? The body is right there in front of you.” He was up and on his feet moving toward the exit even as the word “body” escaped his lips. An instant later, he burst out the pub. He saw Dyvee surveying the area suspiciously. His cruiser’s lights flashed wildly. But there was no body, no crime scene. Laquez rushed over to the spot where Marvin’s body had previously been displayed. He looked around with extreme desperation, hoping to spy at least one remnant of evidence that would that he had, indeed, witnessed a murder. But there was no trace anywhere. “It was right here,” Laquez proclaimed, on the verge of mental collapse. “The body was right here!” He looked to find Dyvee staring at him with concern. His face was flat, expressionless, but his deep brown eyes exposed his emotions. Dyvee was of muscular build, about 5 feet and 10 inches in height, and 205

pounds. His skin was a dark brown. He looked young. His eyes were chinky, penetrating, with eyebrows that arched with suspicion. He had a broad nose, wide, but not out of place due to full facial features. His hair was always done up in tight, neat cornrows, his facial hair trimmed in a perfect goatee. Pouty lips made him look fierce, but when he smiled, a set of deep dimples decorated his cheeks, making him look childlike. Laquez and Dyvee had been buddies since high school. Yacub was the third member of their trio. All three men lived their high school days as if attached to the hip. They took and, at times, skipped many of the same classes. They drank the same beer and attended the same parties and events; they screwed the same girls, smoked weed together, and even graduated the same year. After high school, Laquez had been the only one to continue on to college. Dyvee had chosen to attend the police academy, while Yacub delved into the underworld, or the world of crime. And through certain endeavors, he was able to establish himself in the field of real estate, where he had become very successful. All three men had kept close throughout the years, so their trust, their bonds were sacred, which is why it was tremendously hard for Dyvee to see the shape his friend was in, as he searched around frenzied and exasperated for a body that wasn’t there. “I swear,” Laquez expressed feverishly, “he was right here!” Dyvee stared softly at him and approached with uncertainty. “Laquez, let’s go sit in your Aston for a minute.” He reached out to his friend and guided him to the vehicle. When they got there, he eased Laquez down in the driver’s seat, as if he were an elderly man with Alzheimer’s, who’d forgotten where he was. Then he closed the door after him and moved around the car to sit in the enger seat. He closed the door after he was seated. He glanced at Laquez. He appeared to be spaced out, on the brink of total meltdown. “Laquez…” Dyvee coaxed. “Are you all right?” Laquez looked at him as if coming out of a daze. “No, cous. I’m not.”

“You want to tell me what this is all about…from the beginning?” That’s exactly what Laquez did. He told him all about the events that occurred from the point of their first phone call he received from Marvin Gates, to the precise moment where he pulled within view to witness the execution of his pal. Dyvee listened intently, only interrupting when he was confused or needed more detail. By the time Laquez concluded, Dyvee had a full grasp on why his friend was shaken. “So, you think that’s what happened here?” Dyvee deferred after clarification. “That those men came back to collect the body and clean up the evidence?” “I think so, yeah.” Laquez didn’t seem too sure. “What else could’ve happened?” “Well, they would have had to have been really quick. I got here in exactly nine minutes,” he replied thoughtfully. “It’s possible, especially if they were professionals. And if that’s the case, it’s going to be difficult, if not impossible to apprehend them. Our best bet is if they’re still in that Regal.” “If you could even find it.” Laquez put in, pessimistic. “They’re probably clear out of the state by now.” “I doubt that,” Dyvee offered. “The problem is there’s no body, or any evidence that a crime was committed. Without that, it’s as if it never happened.” He thought a bit. “And technically he can’t even be considered missing since it hasn’t been twenty-four hours since he was last located. This case won’t even get filed, let alone investigated.” “But what about me?” Laquez said fervent. “About what I saw?” “I could take your statement, but without some type of physical evidence to show that a crime was committed, it would just be a report, nothing to stem an investigation.” “But I saw them blow his freaking head off with my own eyes.” “And I believe you,” Dyvee returned, ive. “But unfortunately, the law is based on what you can prove.” “So that’s it?” Laquez barked. “We just act like it didn’t happen, like I’m losing

my mind, and I imagined the whole thing?” That is what Laquez truly feared. Without some type of confirmation, it would be as an illusion, a possible hallucination. Or worse. It could be all in his head, just like the incident with the glass of cognac. He refused to believe that. And he refused to believe that this incident was a part of his mental instability. “Laquez,” Dyvee assured, “I, for one, know you better than that. There is nothing wrong with your sanity. And I know you would not have called if you didn’t witness what you say you did. All I’m saying is we just don’t have any proof as it stands to start an official investigation. The best we can hope for, in this case, is that the vehicle is spotted, preferably with them inside. But even if they aren’t, the car will be towed. And that’s our evidence right there.” That seemed to reassure Laquez. He appeared to relax some. “But for now, I want you to go home and try to settle down. And I’ll call you the second I hear something.” Laquez rubbed his hand over his face. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them. They were filled with serious despair.” “What is it, Laquez?” Dyvee probed comionately. “What haven’t you told me?” Laquez was hesitant. He did not want to say what was on his mind. He knew the emotional composure he was trying to preserve would spoil and he would become unbalanced. He didn’t want to deal with the whirlwind of pain and hurt that would sweep across him and Dyvee once he told him the news. But he deserved to know. She was family to him as well. Plus, he needed to confide in someone. Who better than Dyvee. “My mom,” he stammered, reluctant, “she…she died this morning.” The look that came across Dyvee’s face made Laquez wish he could turn back time just to spare his friend the hurt and pain he was experiencing presently. Dyvee’s eyes instantly began to mist up and fill till they could no longer withhold the tears in them. As the tears fell, he dropped his head and covered his eyes with his right hand and crossed his left over his midsection, as if he were going to be sick. Then he wept, his huge shoulders slumped, only rising when his sobs rocked him. Laquez

reached out, hesitant at first, but then he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Fresh tears slid down his own cheeks. At first, Dyvee did not react to the touch. But a second later, he raised his hand up, gesturing that he needed a minute. Laquez moved away slightly. When Dyvee removed his hand from his face, it was wet with tears and painted with sorrow. He glanced quickly at Laquez, then he opened the enger door and stepped out. The grief in the car was suffocating him, and he needed some air. Outside he stood with his hands on his hips and his head tilting back as if looking at the clouds. Laquez wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard him chant something, possibly a prayer. He didn’t want to impose. He knew how tender the moment was, so he stayed in his car. After about five minutes, Dyvee got back in and closed the door. When his eyes met Laquez’s, his tears were gone. The pain was not. Still he was composed. He moved toward Laquez suddenly and pulled him in for a hug. The affection was returned. When they separated, Dyvee sighed and turned so that he was semifacing Laquez. “So, how’d it happen?” Dyvee finally asked. “An aneurysm. There was nothing that could be done.” “Were you there, when…” “No,” Laquez answered, desolate. “She called me though. It was all so strange.” “How so?” Dyvee asked quizzically. Laquez told him about that morning. Dyvee listened, empathetic. “I know it doesn’t hold much weight, but…at least you talked to her before…” “Yeah. I guess there is a sense of comfort in that.” “So…how are you holding up?” “Pssst. I don’t even know. It hasn’t had time to really sink in. Things seem to be so out of whack.”

“Yeah,” Dyvee said, nodding, reflecting on what brought him here. “I lost two people in one day,” Laquez pointed out. “How does that happen?” “I’m sorry man.” “I’ll get through it.” “I’m sure you will. I’m here with you cous. You’re not alone in this. If you need me, I’m there…for arrangements, an ear, anything.” “I appreciate that.” “Does anyone else know about Mom Dukes?” Laquez shook his head from side to side. “No, just us. And do me a favor, let’s keep it that way for a bit? At least till I get a grip.” “Of course,” Dyvee agreed humbly. “So, when’s the funeral.” “Haven’t really gotten into that yet, but I will.” Both men looked at each other, their eyes expressing what words could not. They broke the gaze but the message had been relayed. Dyvee moved to get out of the car, but Laquez halted him by placing a hand on his arm. “The second you hear anything, please call me.” His glare was intense. “You got it bro.” Laquez released him, and Dyvee got out, closing the door behind him. Laquez started the car. He saw Dyvee get into his unmarked cruiser. Seconds later, the lights stopped flashing. He was sure Dyvee was calling to report the incident. He hoped like hell they discovered that Regal. Something occurred to him then. He grabbed his cell phone and scrolled till he found Marvin’s number, then he dialed him up. If he answered, he would really lose it.

“The number you have dialed is not in service,” the automated voice said immediately. His heart stuttered, his breath caught in his lungs, and his saliva seemed to thicken to the point where it was beyond swallowing. The number had been in service less than an hour ago. How could it be suddenly out of service? He decided to check his call history, and to his surprise, he saw only one outgoing call to Marvin’s number and that was the call he just made. He dialed the number again. Still not in service. He became anxious, put out, but upon further pondering, he ed that Marvin never called his cell, only the home phone. With that realization, some of the tension faded and any panic swelling within him dissipated. Marvin had even left a message, which would be easily accessible, perfect evidence to give Dyvee. This would certainly be grounds for an investigation. He was sure of it. A new stream of hope coursed through him. It appeared as if things were looking up. In a few minutes, he would be home where he would gather the evidence he needed to turn over to Dyvee. Yup, he thought with relief, they won’t get away with this, Marvin.

*****

The minute Laquez entered his house, he rushed straight to his answering machine. He had twenty-six new messages. Those he would attend to later. There were more pressing matters at hand. He went to his previous messages and listened for Marvin’s voice. Nothing. He thought back to the time he received the first call. He checked the call log. Still nothing. He began to panic again.

Again, he began checking all the previous messages. What he sought was not there. He had no proof that Marvin called at all. He couldn’t begin to solve the dilemma he was currently faced with. It was all so outrageous. His mind worked feverishly, grasping at all angles, searching all avenues in his mind. It came to him, a small glimpse of hope, glimmering in the fierce darkness. “Beth!” he said aloud. Then he trotted to where his cell was. Beth’s number was labeled as Marv’s wife. He found the number and called immediately. “Sorry, but the number you have dialed is not in service.” “What?” he voiced critically. He dialed the number again. “Sorry, but the number you dialed is—” Fueled by rage and in reaction to his disappointment, he launched his cell phone across the room. It hit the wall, breaking into pieces. It left a nice-size hole in the wall. He instantly regretted it. His blood was boiling. Anxiety threatened to overtake him. His heart raced, and he was very edgy. He had to calm down, or he would explode. He began to pace, trying his best to make sense of everything. It occurred to him then that Beth could’ve changed her number. It was a small comfort, just an assumption, and it didn’t explain anything. A memory hit him. Marv had gotten a room at Motel 6. That was where his salvation lay. All he had to do was call and ask about Marvin, and he would have his confirmation. The next shock came when the motel informed him that no one by that name had checked into a room that day. When he hung up, he felt numb. To distract himself, he began checking the new messages, hoping that some miracle would occur, like his mom calling or Marvin, proving that this was all just a delusion. With each message he deleted, his level of fear increased. By the time he got to the final message, his fear level had piqued. He pushed the play button. Mentally his fingers were crossed, but the message was yet another blow of disappointment.

“You bastard! I so hate you. I wish with all my heart that you—” Tasa again. She was the least of his troubles currently. He deleted the message without listening any further. He stood there feeling undone. He couldn’t prove Marvin had ed him. It was like he imagined the whole thing. He began to feel faint. It just couldn’t be. Then he thought of one last possible solution. The only option left was to go to Hartford, to Marvin’s home personally, and talk to Beth. That would shed some light on things. He looked at his watch. It was 3:35 p.m. If he left, he would reach Hartford by 4:55 p.m., depending on traffic. He rushed out the door, jumped in his Camaro, and headed out. He was certain that this was the right decision. Sitting around would have surely driven him mad. By going to Beth’s, he was acting, and acting was safer than thought. He reached for his stereo and pressed the power button. The last thing that flashed through his mind was his busted cell. But that was insignificant.

*****

As he predicted, an hour and fifteen minutes later, he was parked outside in Beth’s driveway. He sat there for two minutes before he built up the courage to go to the door. He hated having to be the one to break the news to Beth and the kids, but there was no other choice. Whatever the outcome, he would be there for them one hundred percent. The other reason for his hesitation was self-preservation. A part of him feared that something odd would take place, something peculiar like Marvin answering the door instead of Beth. That would freak him out. Still in all, not knowing was worse than knowing, and he did not come all this way to chicken out. It was time to face his fears. He took a deep breath, preparing mentally and physically for any and every twist or surprise. He expected the worst, but couldn’t imagine what that could be. The last thing he wanted to face was his own insanity.

He proceeded to walk up the driveway, to the front door. Once at the door, he hesitated to breathe in a final breath of courage, then he rang the bell. About a minute later, an elderly man opened the door. A wide grin covered his face. His examining blue eyes stared pleasantly back at Laquez. “Hello, young fella,” the man said merrily, “how can I help you?” Laquez looked at the man. “Hello, sir,” he said skeptically, “I’m looking for Beth Gates.” “Beth Gates?” the man voiced thoughtfully. “No. No Beth Gates here.” Laquez’s heart began to flip flop in his chest. “Are you sure? Because I’m certain that she and her husband Marvin Gates own this house. They live here with their two children, and have for the last six years.” The man put his hand to his chin. “Noooo. No, I believe you’re mistaken. My wife and I own this home. And we’ve lived here for thirty years.” “For thirty years?” Laquez mimicked, disconnected. “Why, yes,” the man said, assertive. Laquez paled, staggered a few steps back, and if not for the porch banister, he would have fallen. The man saw him stumble and moved to help him steady himself. He put a ive hand on Laquez’s shoulder and held his hand out in case he needed extra help. “Are you all right, son?” The man was truly concerned. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just a little tired is all.” “Do you want to come inside for a spell and rest?” “No. No, that won’t be necessary.” “Are you sure?” “Yes,” Laquez said then stood fully erect, composed for the time being. He

offered his hand. “Thank you for your time.” “No problem, son,” the man said as they shook hands. Laquez released the man’s hand and turned away. He walked swiftly to his Camaro. Without looking back, he got in, started it up, and pulled away. The man watched him from the porch, keenly, until Laquez drove off.

Chapter

10

Laquez got home around a quarter to seven. He was out of sorts, tired, not sleepy, very stressed, depressed, and severely confused. His sanity was hanging on by a thread. His once perfect world had been turned upside down and inside out. He didn’t know which way was up, which way was down, right from left. Nothing was as it should be. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure of himself. If he couldn’t trust his own eyes, his senses, then how was he supposed to maintain a focused life? If he had imagined pouring himself some cognac, then he could have also imagined the whole Marvin situation, right down to its bloody conclusion. He didn’t want to consider that possibility. But he had been thrown a curveball ever since he went biking with Yacub. He wandered around his home, room to room. He had once been so happy, so content with life. Now he didn’t trust his own mind. Was his friend dead? Did he really witness his murder? Those questions actually raised doubt about his mother dying. That notion brought a spark of hope to his heart. If he imagined Marvin’s death, perhaps his mother’s death was a hallucination as well. It was a theory, far-fetched, but one worth entertaining. He hurried over to the phone and dialed her number. When he got only her messaging service, he tried her cell. Same thing. His hope dwindled away. The phone rang then. He rushed to it and answered. “Hello!” He was anxious. But it was only the hospital updating him on the status of the handling of his mother’s body. Her death was no illusion. His bowels felt heavy. He needed to use the bathroom. When he was done with the toilet, he walked back to his living room and

stopped dead in place. He spotted the red light flashing on his answering machine. Someone had called while he was in the bathroom. He quickly dashed over to check the message. “Hey boss. It’s me. I was just calling to um…check in with you, to touch base, I mean…uh…” She sighed, more out of embarrassment than frustration. “I…what I’m trying to say is I was thinking about you, so I called. I tried your cell, but I just got your answering service. Anyway…if you want you can give me a call back. Okay? Bye.” The euphoria that came over him was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Just hearing her voice brought a tremendous smile to his face. At the same time, it was like all his worries and fears had vanished for the time being. The bombardment of recent events had so overwhelmed him that he forgot about the one new event that had sparked a positive charge in him, which was by far greater than all his mental and emotional anguish combined. Jesse Hayes. Beaming and without a second’s delay, he dialed her number. He paced as the phone rang. On the third ring, she answered. “Hey Boss!” she said with enthusiasm. “I see you got my message.” “Yeah,” he replied shyly. “A few minutes ago.” “Oh. So, how’s things?” “I’m not even sure how to answer that. But for starters, I broke my cell phone.” “That explains a lot.” She was being playfully sarcastic. There was an awkward silence as he pondered which direction he should take the conversation. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he also didn’t want to burden her with all of his problems. She seemed to be in such good spirits. He did not want to ruin that energy. He decided to keep it casual, allow her to steer the flow of the conversation. “So, what have you been up to today?” he said, cheerful. It was Jesse who responded shyly this time around. “Well, I was sitting here idly when I thought, hey…let me see what my boss is up to. You are my bread and

butter, you know?” “Is that right?” he said, adoring her sanguine humor. “Well, sort of,” she itted. “So, there’s more to it then?” he asked with anticipation. “I would say so. Are you gonna make me spell it out for you?” “What does that mean?” he played, clueless. “Hint. Hint,” she said flirtatiously. Laquez faked surprise and made sure it was evident in his tone. “Are you coming on to me?” “Ladies and gentlemen, after five years, he finally got it,” she joyfully announced. He felt that was the most adorable way ever for her to announce her feelings for him. His love for her would know no limits. He could not help but laugh heartily at her response. It felt good because the laugh was true and genuine. He needed it very much considering the day he was having. She chuckled too, and the sound of her jubilant laugh sent welcome shivers through his body. The laughter faded after a bit. “Since we’re being honest here,” he put in warmly, “that day at the office, when we held each other’s gaze, did you realize then that we had a…connection?” “Nope,” she answered sincerely. “That’s when you realized it. I’ve always had a thing for you, since the first week I started working at your office.” “Then why didn’t you say something then?” Laquez asked, a bit daunted. “Why did you wait so long?” “Well, for one thing, I wasn’t sure that you’d be attracted to me, or…if I was

your type. You seemed to be, to me anyway…a bit superficial. And I know I’m not drop-dead gorgeous like those supermodels that flock around you. I’m certainly no Tasa Richards. So…I guess I was a bit self-conscious, afraid of being rejected. Plus, you were so damn professional all the time. Everything was business, business, business. I can’t even recall a time, prior to Friday, that you actually looked at me with even the slightest interest. I wasn’t about to throw myself at you under those conditions.” “Wow,” he said, stunned. “You really do know me. I must be an open book?” “Not entirely.” “Why do you say that?” “Well, for one thing, you were able to avoid any attraction you felt towards me for this long, without me catching on until two days ago.” She wondered. “Is that the first time you noticed me, I mean in that way?” “Not at all. I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but you’re one hundred percent right about my professionalism. I noticed you had a great smile and a contagious personality. I know I felt excellent around you and even thought, at times, if you felt anything for me. But I had this code, so…” “Had? As in past tense?” she inquired curiously. He smiled widely. “Yeah. Had.” It felt great to say that. “The code was to never get involved with employees. It was too risky. But when I saw and spoke to you Friday, something gave way. I saw you in a whole new light, and since then, for the most part, you’ve occupied a huge portion of my thoughts.” “Oh, really?” she mocked, exuberant. “Uh-huh. I do regret my professionalism now.” “And why’s that?” “Because, even though I worked closely with you for five years, I never once looked at you in a desirable manner. Now I don’t even have a body to put with

your incredible face.” “Are you serious?” She giggled girlishly. “Dead serious.” “That must blow.” She paused as she smiled brightly then continued, “However…that is easily remedied.” “True talk.” “You just have to decide which view you prefer first…clothed, or unclothed?” He laughed again, all the problems of the day on the back burner. “So now that we’ve put all our eggs on the table, where do we go from here?’ “Are you placing the ball in my court?” “In a sense…I guess I am.” “In that case, I think we should just ride the wave, let it take us where it will.” “I like the sound of that.” “Do you?” “Very much so. But we do have to consider one thing.” “And that is?” “Protection, or raw dog?” Both she and Laquez burst into laughter, which seemed to go on forever before it subsided. Laquez attempted to be serious and compose himself. “No, sir. No, sir,” he said through chuckles. “But seriously, we have to consider how this might affect first our current relationship as employer and employee. Then how it would affect our friendship.” “Ahh. Do we have to?” she said with a tease.

“I’m afraid so.” His tone was a bit more established. She went silent as if weighing out the risk. “Okay,” she said an instant later, “as far as our friendship goes, we’ve had five years to establish that. It’s solid in my opinion. As for the employer-employee relationship, once we hook up, I will no longer be your employee.” “How so? You can’t quit on me.” “Didn’t say anything about quitting. I’ll be getting promoted.” “To what?” “To your new partner, of course,” she said confidently. “I’m sure my status as your woman qualifies me for a bump up.” “To partner?” he added, playful. “What else?” He could tell she was enjoying this exchange as much as he was. Although he knew she was toying with him, he was more than prepared to make her playful proposal a reality. In fact, he called her on it. “Okay,” he said flatly. “Huh?” she uttered, caught off guard by his response. “You’re promoted starting Monday. You’re no longer my secretary but my full business partner.” “What?” she stammered, flustered. “I’m…I was joking. I wasn’t being literal.” “But I was.” “But…I’m…this is…” “Why the switch?” he questioned respectfully. “You’ve always been diligent with all my endeavors. You know the business as well as I do, if not better.” He was truly flattering her. “You’re focused, ambitious, thorough, pleasant, yet firm,

tenacious, and, not to mention, lovely. You also know how to talk to and treat people. And I’m sure any presentation that you do will be out of this world.” “But this is so sudden, so unexpected.” “So are we…us, falling in love.” “In love?” “That’s what this is…isn’t it?” he spoke with cool certainty. She did not hesitate to respond. “Yes. In every sense of the phrase.” The moment was too special to be cheapened by any further words. They both held the phone to their ears, relishing the connection. Though they were apart they couldn’t have been closer. They were one energy. Laquez picked up where they left off. “So…how about it, partner?” “You’re really serious?” “Of course.” “And this is what you really want?” Her excitement grew. “With all my heart,” he confirmed. “But it’s your job to find us a new secretary who’s as good as you. We’ll share my office.” “Can we share the desk and chair too?” She offered in jest. “Actually, that is physically possible.” He ed in. “You’ll have to be on top.” “Where else would I be?” “Then it’s settled. Monday morning, I’ll make all the arrangements. Prepare to sign your life away.”

“Yes, Boss.” Her tone was gleefully sensual. “You mean partner, right?” “Oh, yes…of course. It’s gonna take some getting used to.” “I think we’ll both enjoy it though, the ‘getting used to’ part.” “Now you’re speaking my language.” “Am I?” “Mm hmm,” she moaned with solicitation. “And while we’re getting things in order…is office sex off-limits?” Laquez smiled, bashful. “Is that where we are already?” “It’s been five years. I think we can skip the wooing. It’s a little late for the ‘getting to know each other’ aspect. Besides, you should be grateful I’m sparing you that part.” “Can I ask you a personal question then?” “No question is personal anymore. You have full access to me.” “Okay.” Laquez was astonished by how natural this felt. “Has it really been five years since you’ve been with someone?” “Man or woman?” “You go that way?” he blurted in surprise. She giggled softly. “No, silly. I was just messing with you.” She giggled again. “And to answer your question, yes, it has.” “No sexual at all?” he voiced in disbelief. “Not even a dildo, and I don’t masturbate.” “Now that’s what I call discipline,” he replied, impressed. “You really are a treasure.”

“Because I’ve been celibate for five years?” “Only partially.” He paused in thought. “I think you’re truly amazing.” “If you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working.” “I’m being sincere, but if you feel flattered, well then, yes.” “Can I ask you a personal question?” she said, turning the tables. “Anything.” “Are you a spiritual man?” The question momentarily spooked him. He was not prepared for such an inquiry. It brought him into a state of self-consciousness and made him recall the last conversation he had with his mother. She was disappointed in his lack of faith. Would Jesse be disappointed too, if he answered honestly? Would that be a deal breaker? He decided that being truthful would be best. If they were to have a genuine and successful relationship, it should start with openness and truth. “Actually Jess…not in the least.” She laughed suddenly. Her response baffled and tickled him at the same time. “What’s so funny?” “Honestly, we are off to a great start.” He was relieved. “What about you?” “Yeah. I believe I am. I mean, I have my own concepts and beliefs. I’m not really that big on all the traditional and cultural jargon. I believe and have faith in God. I believe the basic principles of all religions, and even some philosophies.” “What principles are you referring to?” Laquez asked with keen interest. “Well, basically,” she elaborated, “I believe that there is one God and that we must love Him above all else. That we must love others as we love ourselves and serve them as we would want to be served…that we give without expecting in

return, and that we follow the laws in existence and love all creation.” She paused a brief moment. “And that we live for the next life and disregard the pleasures of the flesh.” It was the last principle that got his full attention, yet in a troubling way. It sounded too much like what Yacub, then his mom had revealed to him. He was under the impression that all believers, or religious people, were conditioned to think a certain way. “Do you really believe that this life is moot?” “Of course not,” she replied, definitive. He felt another wave of relief over him. “I believe that this life matters,” she explained, “because it’s what we do here that determines where we’ll end up after death. I also think that what we learn and experience here prepares us for our spiritual existence.” “I noticed that you keep saying ‘think,’” he stated perceptive. “That’s because I’m not sure. I could be wrong. There could be nothing after this for all I know. Or something totally different than what is preached.” “Would that disappoint you?” “Completely.” “But why?” he asked, seriously curious. “If death is the end of an existence and you lived this life to the fullest, what would be so bad about eternal nothingness?” “For me, I guess I would feel cheated, not just for myself but for others too. Especially those who never got an opportunity to really enjoy life. Or even worse, those who only knew suffering and never felt peace, happiness, love. It would also prove that our entire existence, our entire species, was worthless. Our lives would be futile because we only lived to appease our desires with no overall, general purpose.” She let that sink in before continuing. “It would show that our history is such where we had to create a being in order to have meaning.

Throughout the ages, all that war, bloodshed, famine, poverty, disease, and suffering we inflicted upon our species would have truly been who we were. It would show that we are naturally evil and destructive, that the creation of a higher power was just our attempt to try and create some goodness. There would be no resurrection, no reuniting with family, no justice for the weak, no love, no wonder, no paradise, just endless oblivion.” Her point was made. “And that, my love, is my definition of a meaningless existence.” Laquez was simply blown away. He had never heard anything like what she had expressed. Even if it was just her view on things, it was super deep. For him, faith and belief weren’t enough. Reason and logic ruled. And he had his own take on the topic which was if it could not be proven or experienced with the senses, it was not reality. “You do make a good point. But to base my existence on a belief…I can’t grasp it.” Jesse weighed his reply. When she spoke, she was concise. “What do you love most about life, Laquez?” He didn’t reply right away. He wanted his response to be substantial. When it came, it was very well-thought-out. “I love being who I am. I love my position in life, my status. I love…”—he almost used past tense—“my mom. I love food, sunshine, snow, beautiful views, and…you.” “Am I that low on your list of things?” she said with humor. He gave her question some thought. He considered everything he mentioned, himself included, and decided that the answer was no. He found in his heart that she came before himself, which put her at the top of the list. There was no denying that. “No,” he said, free of dissimulation. “You come first.” “Before you, Mr. Ego?” she asked, abashed. “Even before me.”

“That’s what you better had said.” His response caused a reaction in her, a feeling that touched her core and made her extremely jovial. “And if you think your flattery will get you into my panties any sooner…you’re right. You can have the ones I have on, they’re all wet anyway.” Laquez laughed. He certainly felt aroused. “Wow,” he uttered, a tad overanxious. “I feel like we’ve always been a couple suddenly.” “Because we have. We just haven’t consecrated the relationship.” “I’m really looking forward to that.” “The invitation is open. All you have to do is come get it, daddy.” Again, he laughed. “You really are something else.” “You’re not so drab yourself.” “So you’re at home?” Mmm hmm. Am I getting a visitor?” “Oh yeah!” “Now that wouldn’t be very ladylike of me.” “Oh…so you’re a tease?” “To an extent. A lady’s got to keep some dignity.” The truth was she wanted him to come over and screw her brains out this very minute. They could make love after. The problem was she was a hopeless romantic and a Libra at that, which meant that everything had to be perfect their first time. “I’ve decided to have you woo me after all. Just a little.” “When and where?” “Well…for starters, tomorrow, at the office.” “Our office,” he corrected.

“It does have a ring to it.” She thought it over. “Okay. At our office, surprise me.” “Is that it?” “Hardly. I want the works for the whole week. Whatever comes to mind, just do it.” “Whatever?” “Whatever. I’m yours now.” “I’m really anticipating this.” “You,” she expressed zealously, “five years over here. I’m all pent-up, backed up…You’re in trouble.” He laughed. He hadn’t laughed this much in a good while. “So, it’s official then?” “It’s official. Are you sure you’re ready for it? Is this really what you want…that I’m who you want?” “More than anything else.” “You do know it’s just me, no other women?” “No other women.” “Because I’m really jealous, possessive even…” “Possess me,” Laquez offered coolly. “Okay. You’re mine then.” “Ditto,” he conceded. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Boss, I mean, partner.” “Yes, you will, partner.”

They hung up. He felt so alive, so in love. All his concerns seemed to have evaporated. All that mattered was Jesse and how he would love and learn from her. Their bond would be legendary, one for the books. He looked at his watch. It was 9:35 p.m. The realization hit him. Time had flown by. Love had the craziest effect on people. He moved through the house to the upper level. He thought about what tomorrow would be like. He already knew how he would surprise Jesse, and it made him severely anxious. He went to the bathroom, shaved, showered, and then was hit full force by a wave of fatigue. The effects of all the excitement had finally caught up to him. His body had calmed thanks to Jesse. He was drained, and he welcomed the feeling. It was a testament of one day ending to begin anew. He climbed into bed, slid under the covers, and within minutes, he had drifted into a deep, fitful slumber. The last thing on his mind was Jesse. He slept the entire night away with a huge smirk on his face.

Chapter

11

Laquez woke at 6:00 a.m. Excitedly he worked out, showered, and then dressed. He had a light breakfast. By the time he finished and straightened up after himself, it was 7:30. He went to retrieve his keys. That’s when he noticed the dent in the wall. He instantly ed how it had gotten there. It was refreshing to see the ruined wall because it solidified the reality of the night before. The previous day’s events were not figments of his imagination. Recollection brought a sudden pain to his heart. He thought of his late mother and his friend Marvin. If Jesse denied that they had connected, he would blow his top. He walked over to the wall and fingered the damage. It was real all right. He then gathered the pieces of his cell. Something occurred to him then, an excuse to call Jesse. He wanted to inform her that he would be in late. In addition to that, he wanted reassurance. Calling her would do two things. It would that the connection was real. And two, it would allow him to get a feel of how things were between them. He felt cheery and souped-up as he dialed her number. “Hello and good morning, darling.” She was already animated. “Hey you,” he greeted warmly. “Hey to you, handsome.” “You’re making me blush. It’s too early for that.” “Really?” “Nah. I was actually calling—” “Because you miss me?”

He smiled. “Yessss. And also to let you know I’ll be in a little late today. I have to get a new cell phone.” “Okay then. I’ll hold down the fort, potner.” She purposefully mispronounced the word for emphasis. “Perfect. I’ll see you in a bit.” “All right.” With that done, he hung up and headed out the door. He was in a wonderful mood.

*****

After leaving the cell phone store, he decided to hit the jeweler. He looked for something really nice, original, but not too flashy. He knew his woman’s taste. Modest. He purchased a tennis bracelet. He decided to get her a white rose too, to symbolize how pure his love was. The area was swarming with shoppers, teenagers, and businessmen and women. One of the teenagers caught Laquez’s eye. He was standing just off the curb between two parked cars. He looked like he was planning to cross the street at some point. The traffic flow was heavy. Vehicles sped to catch the green light. What caught Laquez’s attention was the fact that the boy, who was no older than sixteen, seemed to be distracted. His gaze was fixed, not on the traffic, but on the roof of a building on the same side of the street, just a few feet away. He had a pair of earbuds. He nodded his head to the tunes he was listening to. Meanwhile he stared up at the building rooftop. His gaze caused Laquez to follow it. He looked up and saw nothing. Laquez lowered his gaze back to the boy. He was still looking up, only now he was absently backing into traffic as if trying to get a better view of the roof. Laquez looked to the flow of traffic. He was just shouting a warning when the boy, who certainly couldn’t hear him, was hit by a public transit bus. The impact

caused one of his sandals to fly off. It took flight and soared through the air before it landed two feet in front of where Laquez was standing. Laquez’s eyes locked on the sandal and were held there, focused on a single drop of blood spotted on it. He looked up, following the path of the bus and the trail of gore it left in its wake. The bus continued on as if nothing had occurred. Laquez instantly took flight, yelling in pursuit of the bus. “Hey! Hey!” he shouted frantic. “Heeyy! Stop that bus!” As he ran down the busy sidewalk he grabbed at people, urging them to follow, or do something. “Call the police!” he demanded. No one responded. They only stared at him as if he were crazy. He became highly frustrated. “Are you people nuts? Didn’t you hear me? That kid just got splattered. Loook!” He kept moving as he shouted, anxious to reach the bus, which had stopped at a traffic light. He did not see the intense, troubled glares he was getting from everyone who noticed him running by. He came within twenty yards of the bus. The light turned green, and the bus began to roll. He didn’t make it in time, but he got close enough to get the license plate. He recited it repetitiously in his mind. His recitation ended abruptly when he saw what the bus had left behind. In the middle of the street, crumpled up like a bag of bloody laundry, was the kid. He was pulverized, battered beyond recognition, and most certainly dead. What happened next was even worse than the original hit-and-run. Every vehicle in the flow of traffic began to hit and run over the boy’s body, destroying it even further without any regard, like he was just roadkill, a squashed squirrel, or a bird. And each vehicle that hit him pushed on, or dragged him a bit further down the road. Laquez began to shout hysterically. “Noooo! Hey!” None of the drivers paid any attention to him. The ones that did notice him looked at him like he was loony. He chased the body of the boy for blocks, dashing into the street at times to divert other cars from hitting it or dragging it further down the street. Twice he nearly got himself killed in the process. He was about forty feet from what was

left of the boy when he spotted a van rushing toward it. The driver of the van appeared to be preoccupied, distracted. He was looking down and did not see Laquez standing in the middle of the lane. Laquez noticed that the van was not slowing. “Hey!” he shouted fiercely, holding out his hands, signaling for the van to yield. The driver looked up an instant too late. Laquez dove out the way just in the nick of time. In the tumult, the driver cut the wheel to the right, making the close call between him and Laquez a little less close. The van tires squealed as it straightened out. It did not avoid hitting the boy. Something on the undertow of the van snagged onto the boys clothing, or a part of the boy himself. The van drove on dragging the boy with him down the street and out of sight. Laquez rolled over and got up off the ground. He was pissed. “FUCK!” Car horns blared at him. He was still blocking one of the traffic lanes. He looked indignantly at the row of cars, then back at the smear of gore that marked the trail of the van. “What the hell’s wrong with you people? Didn’t you see? Why hasn’t anyone called the cops?” “Get out of the street, you idiot!” a man shouted from one of the vehicles heading the row of traffic. The man drove forward, and Laquez moved out of the lane to allow age. He flicked the man the bird as he ed. He felt great disgust at every one present at the scene. They trotted up and down the sidewalk, avoiding him as if he were a maniac. He couldn’t understand how they could be so callous, so cold. They had to have seen the boy’s body being bombarded. “Are you all gonna act like nothing happened?” he shouted at anyone who’d pay attention to him. They acted as if he were delusional. Something occurred to him then. The thought alone was enough to render him

silent. He ed the glass of cognac, juxtaposed with Marvin’s murder. The dread hit him full force. He became highly self-conscious. He doubted his own eyes, his perceptions, down to his sanity. Jesse had helped him to forget the events that threatened his sense of reality, but now they were resurfacing with a vengeance. He looked around at the people standing and walking about, at the facial expressions of those bold enough to make eye . He did not like what he saw. Judgment. They were looking at him like he was a basket case. He scanned their faces, feeling out of place, until his eyes fell on a woman. She was standing across the street from where he was. She was of Asian descent, gorgeous in every way. From the distance, he could see her beauty clearly. She wore her hair in two French twists. The braids hung forward over either shoulder. She wore a turquoise button-up blouse, shoulder cut, with a black skirt that hung just past her knees. Both her hands were clasped to her face in stunned shock. She stared not at Laquez but a ways up the street, after the van. Her mouth hung slack. She was awestruck. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Laquez was sure that she had seen what he had. A spark of hope was ignited in him. He became less self-conscious and more confident and sure of what he witnessed. “Hey…miss…,” he yelled from his position on the other side of the street. As if startled, the woman snapped her gaze from the street and locked it on him. Her hands slowly fell away from her face. She stiffened as if prepared to flee. Laquez held up a finger. Then he made his way across the street. When she saw that he was attempting to approach her, she turned on her heels and moved to evade him. He noticed and began to run in a desperate attempt to catch up. “Hey! Miss! Wait!” She did not even slow. Instead she picked up her pace and blended in with the crowd. Seconds later, she vanished from sight.

Laquez stopped and began searching the area. His head jerked from one direction to the next. He focused on any female who slightly resembled the mysterious woman. After about five minutes of visual search, he gave up. She was gone. “What the hell’s going on?” he voiced in a whisper. As he walked back the eight blocks, he thought deeply. He believed the woman saw something, which was why she was disturbed. It was a small comfort. If only he had caught up with her to question her he’d be certain. He let that thought fester until he was back where it had all started, just outside the jewelry store. When he got there, he looked around for the one object that would ease his mind: the boy’s sandal. But it was nowhere to be found. Determined not to let the incident destroy his mood, he let his mind go blank. Then he forced thoughts of Jesse and how happy she made him. The day had started off wonderfully, and he would see that it ended that way. A memory flashed in his mind. 962EN9. It was the rouge bus’s license plate number, another potential component of proof other than the woman, that could what he saw actually took place. It was so clear to him then. He would call Dyvee to run the plate. But he would wait until he got to the office. He really needed to see Jesse.

*****

An hour and ten minutes later, Laquez pulled into the underground garage of his office and parked. He held the white rose, careful not to ruin a single petal. He also stopped by Exotic Sweets to purchase her a box of three-hundred-dollar chocolates. He figured he might as well go all out. She was that special. He had just one chance to make a first impression. He knew Jesse was not materialistic, nor was she easily impressed by flashy objects. He believed that she would find more meaning in his thoughtfulness,

that he had taken the time to get her something nice. He could have come in with a soda, and she would have melted from the sentiment. But what he’d done was much more tasteful. He hopped out the Via Cross and rushed to the elevator. He concealed the bracelet in his blazer pocket while brandishing the bag with the chocolates in it and the white rose in his left hand. When he got to the floor where his office was, he stepped out the elevator, feeling utterly excited. He couldn’t wait to lay eyes upon her for the first time in an intimate light. He would certainly analyze her shape, her body, and get a feel of what he would soon be caressing. He walked down the corridor, his stride more pronounced than usual. He stood taller than normal and smiled ever so brightly. When he got to the reception area, he greeted his employees with a wave or a merry nod. He was glad when he finally reached Jesse’s former office. She was not there. She had followed his instructions as expected. He wasn’t surprised. The surprise came when he entered what was now their office. The office itself looked roughly the same. The only difference was instead of one huge desk centered before the large glass windows, there were two kitty-corner in the left and right of the area. His desk was the closest from the entrance on the right, so it was the first one noticed upon entering. Jesse’s desk was to the immediate left. It appeared less prominent. That’s where he found her sitting, casually smiling. “So how do you like it?” “I love it,” he replied dreamily. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not talking about the office?” “Was I that obvious?’ She didn’t answer. Instead she stood up and moved around the desk. Her shiny red hair hung crimped well past her shoulders. Her lips gleamed a bright red, and her emerald green eyes sparkled with sensuality. She strolled with sass toward him. The white blouse she wore bulged as she arched her breasts forward. The gray power skirt she wore clung to her curved hips and thighs. Her legs were

smooth and shapely. She glided gracefully in her black heels. She stopped within arm’s reach and posed. Laquez’s mouth sagged open. “You like what you see?” She twirled affably a full 360 degrees. Her appleshaped buttocks jutted out like a work of art. She completed the turn. Her eyes landed flirtatiously on him. He was still looking down, entranced by her luscious rump. “Snap out of it, baby, I’m up here.” Laquez looked up with a touch of embarrassment. “You did that on purpose,” he accused coquettishly. “Perhaps,” she said as she moved in, placing her hands on his shoulders. She leaned in and ionately caressed his lips with hers. He raised his free hand in response and gently placed it on the small of her back. Just as the kiss became intense, she pulled back. His eyes were still closed, hers were open. She moved in again. Their lips touched. He could taste her sweetness. He became aroused. She removed her lips from his, then her embrace, and stepped back. Laquez stood there frozen. He noticed her staring thoughtfully at him. “You tease.” He toyed, relieved for the moment that the kiss didn’t get too hot and heavy, or he would have been at full salute. “You’re trying to get me worked up.” “Anticipation,” she voiced seductively. “It’s good for the soul.” She spun elegantly and strutted back to her desk, swishing. He trailed behind her casually. Once she was seated with her legs crossed, eyeing him with glee, he approached the front of her desk, leaned over it, and presented to her the white rose. “For you, my dear.” She looked at the flower, her eyes widened with approval before she reached out and grabbed it gently. She put it to her nose to inhale the fragrance. She looked back up at him. “Thank you,” she spoke in a schoolgirl manner. “It’s beautiful, and I love the scent.”

“You’re very welcome, sexy,” Laquez returned. “It has symbolism.” “White, for purity…I noticed.” “Clever woman.” “Yup.” “And there’s more. Close your eyes.” Jesse’s mouth opened in surprise, but she did what she was told. Laquez took out the bracelet, which was in a gift box, and placed it on the desk before her. He stepped back a foot. “You can open them now.” She noticed the gift. She looked from the gift to him. She felt so giddy. “What’s this?” “Your surprise.” ‘I thought the rose was the surprise?” “Partially. Now go on and open it.” She looked down at the gift, grinning uncontrollably. Then she tore into the wrapper like a four-year-old on Christmas. After she got through the paper, she opened the velvet case. When she saw what was inside, her heart began to palpitate. She smiled with awe. “Laquez!” she screeched, blown away. “What is this?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide like half-dollar coins. “What did you do?” “I surprised you,” he replied coolly. “How much did it cost?” “Does it matter?” “No. I mean…yes! I mean, I wouldn’t even know what to do with this.”

“You wear it, silly.” “Laquez, I know that, but…it’s too expensive.” “Nonsense. Your happiness is worth a lot more to me than all the diamonds in the world. And I’m not inferring that nice things symbolize the root of love. I know you better than that. I also know it will look really nice on you.” She smiled so deep and so pure, Laquez felt if he didn’t do something to divert his attention, he would melt away. She continued to smile as she looked down at the bracelet. He casually slid around the desk and reached down and pulled the bracelet out of the case. She looked up at him. “May I?” She offered him her wrist, blushing so clearly, she flushed almost as red as her hair. He snapped the bracelet around her wrist. It looked dazzling against her skin. She gasped in wonderment.” “I’ll never take it off,” she pledged. She looked up at him. He took the opportunity to steal a kiss. When they parted, they stared lovingly in each other’s eyes. He could see she was on cloud nine. “Oh…one more thing,” he said as he held out the small bag he’d been holding since he entered the office. “No!” she protested. “This is too much.” “Too much?” He mimicked. “There’s always room for chocolate. Besides, it completes the surprise.” “Exotic Sweets,” she read the label. “Isn’t that that place where they charge hundreds of dollars for…” The realization set in. “Laquez, no…you didn’t? You shouldn’t have.” “I should’ve and I did,” he stated proudly. “What’s important is whether or not you feel wooed.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed as she placed the candy on the desk and stood up. “I feel very special.” She moved in close and put her arms around him. He returned the embrace, pulling her closer to where there was no space between them. This time when they kissed, there was no holds barred. Their tongues slithered in each other’s mouths like frantic serpents in a tight space. There was lust certainly, but more ion than anything. As they kissed, their bodies ground together erotically. Laquez was as hard as a brick and Jesse as wet as the ocean. It took every ounce of will to quench their desires before they ripped clothes and went at it like savages. This was not the time or place, and Jesse was not about to cheapen this long-awaited moment with reckless office sex. She pulled away first, snuffing out the fires that threatened to consume them both. “Mmm,” she moaned. “Not here, not now.” “It’s your world, baby,” Laquez remarked in compliance. He took a few steps back as if distance would somehow stifle the ion they were struggling to overcome. “And you’re well worth the wait.” She smiled and held eye . “So now what?” “Now…we get my lawyers over here pronto. It’s time to make this partnership legal. Then we’ll let the rest of the staff know you’re also in charge now.” Jesse was speechless. She just sat there smiling, stunned, overwhelmed, but content with the whole idea. Laquez called his attorneys, and two hours later, Jesse was g her way into a full partnership. And as Laquez suggested, they announced it to the rest of the staff once it was official. Things felt so right and complete. By 3:30 p.m., Laquez had totally forgotten about the incident that occurred downtown involving the boy and the bus. He even forgot about the beautiful Asian witness who had evaded him. There was only Jesse.

Chapter

12

By 3:45, Laquez and Jesse were sitting in their office. Both appeared to be busy, but they kept sneaking glances at each other. When either caught the other staring, they just smiled. Things could not have been more perfect. Jesse was settling into her partnership like she was destined for it. She had already interviewed three potential replacements for the secretary position and had scheduled three more for the next day. She was in the process of going over some s when Laquez’s cell phone chimed, slightly distracting her. Laquez answered and was disconcerted by Dr. Strigle’s voice at first. Then he ed. He had called to inform Laquez that his mother’s body had been picked up by the funeral parlor. Laquez was surprised to discover that love had the power to make him forget that his own mother had ed. He had funeral and burial arrangements to make. He had only told one person about her death and hadn’t even scheduled the funeral or wake. He had numerous calls to make. The good thing was that he was well composed and could now handle the emotional burden. More tears would be shed, but he would be fine. It was time to make some calls. He decided that the next person he would inform was Jesse. After all, she was his woman. He would tell her devoid of any emotion, distress, or pain so that her reaction wouldn’t be too sympathetic. She had only met his mother on one occasion. There was hardly a connection. He knew she would be more concerned about how he was coping. If he showed he was all right and accepted her demise, she would feel less inclined to feel sorry for him. He got up and walked over to her desk, around to where she was seated. She stared expectantly up at him. He perched atop her desk so that he was facing her. One of his feet was placed on the floor, the other raised. He placed his hands in his lap and gazed at her with love. “There’s something I have to do, an obligation,” he said calmly. “There are some arrangements I have to make, so you’ll have to close up.”

“What’s going on?” She looked a bit concerned. “Well, it’s the craziest thing,” he said, offish. “I can’t believe it slipped my mind. But I know why it did.” He looked at her, grateful. “What?” “Before I tell you, I want you to know that I’m fine and you don’t have to feel pity, sorrow, or any sympathy, or anything like that for me.” Immediately she became worried. It was written all over her face. “On Sunday morning, my mom ed.” “Oh my God!” she said, aghast. “And you’re just now telling me?” Sorrow began to overwhelm her, and that’s exactly what he was trying to avoid. “As I’ve said, it slipped my mind. But don’t be concerned. I am perfectly okay.” Her sadness edged a bit. “Are you sure?” “Positive. Her death was bizarre, but natural. She died of an aneurysm. She didn’t feel a thing. And I was the last one to hear her voice. Even got to tell her I loved her.” That seemed to lighten Jesse’s mood. “Yeah, that is a good thing. But are you sure you’re okay?” “I probably wouldn’t have been if not for you.” She felt cherished. “Me?” “Yes, you. See, it’s strange. I lose a very important woman in my life, only to gain one equally important…if not more so.” Jesse stood up. She had to kiss him, to hold him, even if he didn’t need the comfort. He felt so in tuned with her. When the moment ended, she returned to her seat. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “No. Don’t start that,” Laquez requested sorely. He bent down and kissed the tears away from her cheeks. “I told you it’s okay.”

“Okay,” she said sheepishly. “What’s not okay is me seeing you sad, especially behind something pertaining to me. I never want to see you cry on my again. You understand?” “Yes,” she agreed pliantly. “But I can’t make you any promises.” She looked at him and wiped what remained of the tears from her face. Then she gave him a smile. It wasn’t full, but it was real. “As long as you’re okay with things.” She acquiesced. “I’m terrific. In fact, even better. I have you now baby.” She smiled brightly this time. “That a girl. Now I’m heading out.” He stood. “Gonna make those funeral arrangements. It’s gonna be this Wednesday I believe. So, wear something nice.” “Don’t you mean black?” “No. I mean nice,” he reiterated. “Why make it a drab occasion?’ It was more a statement than a question. She eyed him with iration, but didn’t reply. He headed out of the office. Her eyes followed him till he was out of sight.

*****

By the time Laquez got home, he was totally ready to face the emotions of his mother’s ing. He was ready for the mourning of others and the sympathy and condolences. He handled and delivered the news so well to Jesse. It would be a bit more complicated with people who were close to his mother like Yacub. He had grown up loving her just as Laquez and Dyvee had. He decided he would call him last, build up a little more resolve for the tears he knew would be shed by his dear friend.

He took some time to think about whom he would notify next. It wasn’t an extremely long list. To be frank, it was quite skimpy, being that Sya was an only child. That left no aunts or uncles. Both of her parents were dead. Laquez was her only child. And she had no really close friends that Laquez was aware of. She spent a lot of her time at the church with Pastor Twyvo. That’s whom he would call. The pastor was very sympathetic. He informed Laquez of how important his mother was to the church. He also informed him about what Sya had prearranged in the event she met an early demise. This helped Laquez a great deal, for all the funeral and wake arrangements, along with her burial would be handled by the church. Sya had left strict instructions and even composed a will, leaving all that she possessed with the church with the exception of her house and vehicle, which she left for Laquez to settle. Laquez understood his mother’s reasoning completely. Laquez was beyond wealthy. Money would never be an issue for him. But the church would surely benefit from the hundreds of millions in her s. The house and car she owned would take Laquez a week or so to liquidate if he so chose. The funds from that he would also donate to the church. It was what she would’ve wanted. After the phone call, he felt unburdened and grateful for such a wonderful mother. She had looked out for his best interest even in death. The funeral preparations were done. The wake would be handled by the church. Her burial plot was all set. The headstone and casket were all taken care of. He would never forget her. He felt the emotion welling up and quickly forced it down. He had to call Yacub. Yacub was closer to Sya than Dyvee was. He had spent more time at her home with Laquez growing up. Yacub and Sya, as adults, shared a common bond. God. That made them more connected. When Yacub got together with Laquez and his mom, they spent most of the time talking about spirituality. The news of her death would be a heavy and unexpected blow. He hoped he could be as composed when telling him as he was with Jesse. He took in a deep breath then dialed Yacub’s number. He answered on the second ring. “What up, Quez?” Laquez’s mother and he were the only ones who called him

that. “Hey, buddy. How’s everything?” “It’s good. I’m at the spot right now. ’Bout to cook something.” “That’s cool,” Laquez stated nonchalantly. “Hey, cous, something came up. I should’ve told you sooner, but…” “What? What’s good?” Yacub pressed nervously. “It’s about Mom Dukes…she’s gone.” “What do you mean gone?” The dread was clearly heard in his tone. “I mean she’s gone…She ed yesterday morning.” The line went deathly silent. Then Laquez heard sniffling followed by low sobs. He could feel the hurt and pain emanating through the phone. It took a great deal of strength on his part to hold back his own tears. “Yacub, man,” he said coaxingly. “It’s all right cous, she went in peace. No suffering. No pain. It was a sudden death, an aneurysm. There was no way to detect or prevent it.” Yacub continued to sob, although it was not as audible. “I spoke to her before…I even got to tell her I love her.” Still no response. Laquez began to worry. “Yacub, you still there?” He could hear sniffling. He was still on the line, just too choked up to talk. “Look man, if I’m handling it, you could too. I’m gonna miss her just as much as you. But death is natural. That time comes for everyone.” “I know,” Yacub finally responded. “That time does come, and we all go home.” At first, Laquez was thrown off by his statement. An instant later, he understood. It was religious talk.

“And she’d want us to be happy for her,” Yacub concluded. More religious talk. It was making Laquez uncomfortable. “So, you’re all right?” “Yes,” he answered sadly. “I prayed.” He sniffled. “When’s the funeral?” “Wednesday.” “At the church?” “How did you know?” Laquez asked surprised. “That church was her life. It’s obvious she’d want her ceremonies there.” “Yeah, she had everything all set up. All I have to do is go up there and sign some paperwork tonight, and that’s it.” “Swell,” Yacub replied solemnly. “Come on, Yac,” Laquez pleaded, “don’t let this tear you apart. No sense in stressing over something we can’t change. Besides, you have some food cooking up. Enjoy it with your boo.” “You’re right, Quez,” Yacub agreed, “you’re right. I just need a minute, that’s all.” “I feel you. If not for Jesse I wouldn’t be coping all that well myself.” “Oh?” Yacub uttered inquisitive. “So you told her?” “Uh-huh. And it went even better than I thought it would.” “That’s great man, congratulations.” “Thanks. That means I’m in the club too. One woman till death do us part.” “How is it so far?” “Honestly man, it’s the best.” “Well hold on to it. As we both know…life is so short.”

“Cheer up some,” Laquez advised. “I’ll call you later to check in.” “All right, I appreciate that.” “Peace fam.” “Peace.” After Laquez hung up the phone, he looked at his watch. It was 6:22 p.m. He told the pastor that he would be there at the church at 7:30 to sign the documents. The church was a thirty-minute ride from his home. That meant that he had at least thirty minutes to kill. He decided he would make himself something to eat. He was famished, only having eaten breakfast. In his kitchen, he found he had a taste for peanut butter, the crunchy kind, on a bagel with a touch of Smucker’s grape jam. He prepared two bagels and poured himself a glass of almond milk. Then he sat at the kitchenette. He wolfed down his food. When he was finished, he remained seated to allow the food to digest. Jesse’s effect on him was so potent that all he had to do was think of her face, or say her name, and he would feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He was just replaying the contours of her body when his cell phone rang. “Say a prayer and let the good times roll…in…case…God doesn’t show.” He was really considering changing that ring tone. He got up and answered. “Hello.” There was no reply. Even more eerie was the fact that he wasn’t holding a cell phone at all, nor had he gotten up to retrieve it. It was still resting on the counter, ringing. “Say a prayer and let the good times roll…” Not again, he thought fearful. He was having another episode, and just when things seemed normal again. As

certain as he was that the bus hit the boy, he was certain he got up and answered his cell. He hopped up, for the second time, rushed over to the counter, and answered. “Hello.” “What’s up kid?” came Yacub’s voice from the other end. “Yacub?” “Obviously.” He seemed to be in much better spirits than he was earlier. “Wow, you perked up quick. I’m glad though. So you’re feeling better?” “Better?” Yacub questioned, perplexed. “What are you talking about?” Laquez instantly felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. “I spoke to you earlier, you were really upset.” “We didn’t talk earlier. This is the first time I called since our race two days ago. You nice or something?” Laquez’s dread intensified. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way that Yacub was being serious. He had to be the one who was high. “Stop playing Yacub, man,” he demanded, “for real. I don’t appreciate you joking about something that serious.” “Serious? Laquez, what are you talking about?” “You’re really gonna do this, pretend like we didn’t talk like forty minutes ago… about my mom dying?” “Your mom WHAT?” Yacub’s tone turned serious real quick. “What happened to Sya?” Laquez was choked up. He knew that Yacub was not toying with him in any

fashion. The news hit him hard. And there was no controlling his emotions. “Laquez!” Yacub shouted, capturing his full attention. “What happened?” Laquez, for the second time according to his memory, relayed what had happened to Sya. And as it had occurred earlier, it recurred with only the slightest of differences. One being although Yacub began to sob, he did not go quiet as Laquez recalled. And instead of him being empathetic, it was Yacub who condoled. He talked smoothly, comforting Laquez, while at the same time equating God with her death. After the grieving, the topic turned to Jesse as it had previously. As before, Yacub congratulated Laquez and wished him well. It was more like Laquez had a premonition of telling him that was playing out now, with subtle alterations. It didn’t make sense, but it was the closest he’d come to justifying what had taken place. By the time the phone call concluded, it was 7:55. He was supposed to meet with Pastor Twyvo. He called him then to inform him that he would be late. It was not an issue for the pastor, but still he rushed out the door. As he drove, his hands shook holding the steering wheel. He felt unhinged again. Reality seemed disconnected. For the first time in his life, he was horrified.

Chapter

13

Laquez arrived at the church. He met with the pastor and signed the documents. Then he rushed out of the church. He felt very uncomfortable in there. He always did. Therefore, he never attended any services. It wasn’t the church itself that rubbed him wrongly, but what it represented. On top of that, the pastor kept babbling about God and the afterlife. It was more than he could stand. A wave of relief washed over him the second he was in his Camaro and pulling away from the church. His relief was short-lived, however, as he hit the main road that led back to the populated areas. The church was set in a rural area surrounded by trees and wildlife. There was only one road that led there called Sottoy Road. It ran for about ten miles. It was deserted. It would have been a pleasant ride if Laquez’s mind wasn’t plagued by problems with no tangible solutions. He felt sane, he acted sane, yet his currently reality was anything but. The only thing that made sense was Jesse. He considered calling her, if for nothing more than to lift the gloom that surrounded him. He reached for the cell phone when he noticed something that he hadn’t before. The road he traveled was dark, save for a few light posts and the headlights from his vehicle. The odd thing was, as he reached for his cell, he caught a glimpse of something in his rearview mirror, a set of headlights about fifty yards back and closing. They seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. He was sure no cars followed when he left the church, nor did he notice any cars pulling onto the road as he drove. He checked his rearview moments ago, and there was nothing but darkness. The headlights bore down on him. When the vehicle got within twenty feet of him, it veered into the opposite lane, which was for oncoming traffic, and slowed when the vehicles were side by side. Laquez looked to his right and could not believe what he was confronted with. If

not for instincts kicking in, it would have been the last thing he saw. Just as recognition surfaced, the enger side window of the gold Regal rolled down and the muzzle of an automatic machine gun was aimed at his face. Before the spark of flames erupted from the barrel, signaling rounds had been fired, Laquez hit his brakes. The Camaro slowed. The Regal shot forward, and the rounds that were intended to massacre Laquez’s face missed entirely. When he saw the Regal’s brake lights flash bright, he slammed on the gas pedal, his grip tight on the wheel. The Camaro sped up, catching the driver of the Regal off guard again. The enger saw the Camaro speeding toward him and let off a burst with the automatic. The rounds slammed into the driver’s side as he flew past. “Tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink!” Laquez heard the rounds tear into steel, but none made it through to cause any harm. He zoomed down the road, knowing there was no way the Regal could compare to the power and speed of the Camaro’s turbo engine. His lead increased by the second. He heard another burst of gunfire and heard the rounds hit the rear of his car. The gap increased by one hundred, then two hundred yards. A minute later, the headlights of the Regal were no longer in sight. That did not ease the tension he was feeling. He held his speed, only slowing when a turn or curve came up. He sped all the way back to the city, heading directly to Stamford police station. As far as he was concerned, the bullet holes that riddled his car would be sufficient evidence. At least now he had no doubt that Marvin was dead. He wasn’t losing his mind after all. He thought of the license plate of the bus that hit the boy. That had to be real too. He had intended to report that to Dyvee earlier, but he had gotten preoccupied with everything else. He would to tell him once he got to the precinct, after he reported the attempt on his life. Apparently, the police hadn’t found the Regal even though it was still in the area. These men were either really stupid or bold and determined. He understood why they would be after him. He did witness Marvin’s death. What puzzled him was how they knew he’d be at that church at that exact time.

They even knew he’d be in his Camaro rather than his Aston Martin, which he was in when the murder occurred. If they followed him home after, why wait till now to move on him? He didn’t know the answer to that. He only hoped that Dyvee could shed some light on the issue. Something was seriously wrong.

Chapter

14

The instant Laquez got to the precinct, he exited his vehicle in such haste, he didn’t bother to look at the damage to his vehicle. He took the steps two at a time and burst into the station in a panic. To his right were a few benches. There were a few people waiting in that area. A couple of doors to his left led deeper into the structure. Next to the doors was a window with an officer sitting calmly beyond it. To his left was a staircase that led up to the second floor. Laquez walked up to the window and grabbed the receiver. “Can you get Dt. Dyvee Spencer, please. It’s an emergency.” “What’s the emergency?” The officer probed. “I’d rather talk to him if possible.” “What’s your name?” “Laquez Fortell.” “I’ll see if he’s in. Hold a moment.” The officer clicked to a different line. He spoke in the receiver then clicked back over. “He’ll be right down. You could wait over there.” He pointed to where the benches were. “Thanks.” Laquez replaced the receiver and walked over to stand by the benches. Five minutes later, the door to the left of the window opened. Dyvee appeared with a concerned look on his face.

“What’s up bro?” “We need to talk.” Dyvee sensed the urgency. “Come on.” He led Laquez through the double doors and to his personal office. When they got there, he closed the door for privacy then turned to Laquez. “So, what’s on your mind?” “I saw the gold Regal.” He came right out with it. “Dyvee’s eyes widened. “You did? Where?” “Sottoy Road. They tried to kill me.” “They WHAT?” His anger rose. It was displayed on his face. “They tried to off me, man, like they did Marvin. I have proof this time too.” “What proof?” Dyvee asked anxious. “The bullet holes in my Camaro. It’s right outside.” Without another word, Dyvee moved to the door. Laquez followed close behind him. They walked directly to the parking lot, right up to Laquez’s car. Dyvee glanced at the Camaro, then at Laquez peculiarly. Laquez read the expression and felt nauseous as he too, glanced upon it. The Camaro was as good as new. There wasn’t a single bullet hole. Laquez’s mouth dropped open. He could not believe his own eyes. He was overwhelmed. Not only did he see and hear the rounds being fired, he felt the impact as they penetrated the steel exterior of the vehicle. But he also could not brush off what his eyes were seeing that very moment. He looked to Dyvee who was eyeing him gently, but with worry. “I swear!” Laquez began unstable. “I felt the bullets hit the car. I barely escaped alive.”

“Laquez.” Dyvee coaxed. “Relax some. Tell me what you recall.” Laquez explained, in detail, his version of what he believed happened on Sottoy Road. He ed the shots that were fired at the rear of the car, but when he went to inspect it, there was nothing, no damage at all. Dyvee listened the whole time, patiently. For the second time in one day, Laquez had told him of an incident that involved a gold Regal and men with machine guns in which there wasn’t a shred of proof. What concerned him most was that Laquez really seemed to believe his story, with all his heart. He had genuine fear in his demeanor, as if he were really in danger. Dyvee didn’t quite know how to handle the situation. All he could think to do was humor him. “How did they know you’d be at that church?” “I don’t know.” Laquez answered sincerely. “Maybe they followed me from my house.” “If they knew where you lived, why not move on you then?” “I thought about that too…and I truly can’t explain it.” Dyvee looked at him curiously. “What about the bullet holes? Do you think they just missed your car completely?” Laquez eyed him with agitation. Dyvee noticed and put his hands up submissive. “I’m just saying, maybe you just thought you heard and felt .” Laquez glared at him solicitous. “I know what I felt, heard, and saw.” “Well, sometimes when we experience terrifying ordeals, fear causes the senses to exaggerate. You saw the gun, heard the rounds fired, and anticipated the impact. Your mind did the rest.” Laquez was more apt to consider that than what he really believed took place. “I don’t know man…maybe.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do…I’ll go out to Sottoy Road and see what I can find. Maybe I’ll run into that Regal myself.” “I truly hope so. I’m worried they know where I live.” “Maybe you should stay somewhere else for the night. If they tried once, they’re certain to try again.” “Nah,” Laquez said rejecting the idea, “if they found Marv…they would certainly find me. It doesn’t matter where I go.” “Do you want to stay at my place?” Dyvee offered. “Nah, I’m good.” Truthfully, he was not. He was more afraid for his mental state than his physical existence. If it was all in his head, then the only thing to fear was himself. He needed confirmation. He needed to somehow that all the strange events and encounters he’d experienced thus far were real, and not some hallucination. He ed the license plate of the bus again. “Dyvee,” he said suddenly. Dyvee was slightly startled. “What’s up?’ “Could you check something for me?” “Of course.” Laquez wasn’t sure just how much he wanted to share about the bus and boy incident, especially considering how shabby his credibility was currently. He had already told him of two incidents that he couldn’t prove. If he told him about the hit-and-run and it also didn’t check out, he knew his friend would become overly worried. He decided it best to alter the story. “Earlier today, I was almost hit by a rogue bus.” “Where did this happen?”

“Downtown, this morning. The driver didn’t even slow down. I did manage to get a plate number though.” He gave it to Dyvee. “Could you check it out for me, see if you can get the driver’s name so I can file a complaint?” “Oh, yeah,” Dyvee said pliantly. “I’ll have it for you by noontime tomorrow.” “Thanks man. Appreciate that.” They slapped hands and hugged. When they separated, Dyvee held Laquez by his shoulders. He looked at him emphatically. “You all right man?” “Honestly…I really can’t say.” “You seemed stressed, like you’re under a lot of pressure. Especially since…you know.” Laquez nodded in agreement. “After the funeral,” Dyvee continued, “maybe you should take a vacation, get away from here for a bit.” “That does sound like a good idea. I will consider it.” What he would really consider had nothing to do with vacation or even the funeral. He was focused on his perception. The events seemed too real to have been imagined. He knew the difference between reality and delusion. He couldn’t understand why or how his perception was being toyed with, why the events he had experienced or believed he experienced appeared fleeting, mere figments of reality. “I’ll let you know if I find anything on Sottoy Road,” Dyvee vowed. “I’ll call you. You go try to rest.” Laquez felt frustrated that he could not give him something solid to go on. He decided he wouldn’t burden him again with none of it. “I appreciate you, cous, seriously. And even if there’s nothing on Sottoy Road, hit me anyway.”

“You got it.” “Okay family.” They bumped knuckles. “Talk to you later.” “Sure thing.” Laquez turned to go when Dyvee called out to him. “Laquez…take it easy man.” “I will.” Laquez got in his Camaro and started it up. He put the car in gear. Through his rearview mirror he spied Dyvee standing in the parking lot, watching him. It bothered him to see his friend so concerned. He regretted confiding in him, but he felt boxed in, with nowhere else to turn. Dyvee was one of his best friends, one of the few people he really trusted. If he could not turn to him in his time of need, that would defeat the purpose of their solid friendship. Besides, Dyvee was the only one who could get him confirmation. He needed to at least one incident, or he would lose it completely. A partial reality was better than none.

Chapter

15

Laquez was about ten minutes from his home when he stopped by a convenient store to grab a six-pack of Spaten. He decided to call Jesse after he showered. She was the only one who could soothe him, at least enough to get some sleep. He had just finished his purchase when he heard the store door open. When he turned to look, he came face-to-face with Tasa. Just my luck, he thought agitated. He grabbed his purchase off the counter and moved swiftly toward the exit. “Funny how I keep running into you.” He tried to sound casual. She glared at him stone-faced. There was ice in her stare. “Hey, listen, Tasa,” he began, apologetic, “I’m sorry about how things went with us. I’m sorry I avoided your calls. I been going through so much since Sunday. You wouldn’t believe—” “And I don’t believe a single fucking word.” The emphasis she put on each word was vehement, her rage pure and unadulterated. “Do you know what you have put me through lately? Can you even comprehend how much this is tearing me apart?” “Tasa…,” he started pleadingly, “I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve always been honest with you. You know that. And I haven’t been answering your calls because I am going through some stuff I don’t even understand. My mind is all messed up.” “That’s no excuse,” she spat viciously. “You could have at least called me back once.” “So that you could curse me and wish me dead?”

She took a step closer. He stiffened as she did. “Laquez.” Her tone softened a tad. “I don’t want you dead and I don’t mean to curse you, but you hurt me so deeply. You know how I feel about you. But you went ahead and fell in love with some other woman. And you won’t tell me who she is.” “If it’s any consolation, I’ve known her longer than I’ve known you.” “It’s not!” Her anger resurfaced with a fury. “I sat around waiting for you to come around…to get the lust out of your system. I fucked you whenever you wanted. And this is the thanks I get?” “Tasa, we can’t help who we fall in love with. I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way. I am sorry. But you can’t possibly blame me for this. We’ve been separated for months.” “But I thought you would come back!” She revealed furiously. “You think I stuck around just to be fucked?” “Uh,” the store clerk finally interrupted, “do I need to call the cops?” Tasa gave him the most malicious stare. He cowered back. “This isn’t the time or place, Tasa,” Laquez interjected. “And as I’ve said, I’m sorry…but this is not my fault. No one is to blame. We gave it a shot. It just didn’t work out. You can’t contin—” “Eat me!” she shouted, enraged. “Save your rambling for an idiot.” Laquez was shocked into silence by her tone. He had never seen her this worked up. He didn’t think she was capable of such anger. “You think I’m going to let you get away with this? Do you really believe I’m going to allow you any happiness…when all I know is sorrow?” She glared evilly into his eyes. He saw she was sincere. “I’ll kill you first.” And with that, she turned and walked out of the store, no longer concerned about what she initially came in for.

Laquez stood there as if in a fearful trance. The store clerk’s words brought him back to the present. “You sure know how to pick ’em.” He was an elderly man with white thinning hair, saggy cheeks, and deep-set crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. He peered at Laquez from over the counter, leery. “She may very well keep her word. I suggest you make a break for it…before she comes back.” Laquez glared at him, then he rushed for the door and out into the night. Outside he looked around, alert and cautious. As far as he could see, Tasa had gone. He could not believe he actually felt a level of fear behind their altercation. He even considered the significance of the threat. If she would really kill him, he wasn’t sure. The way his life was currently playing out, anything was possible; nothing was far-fetched. He jumped in his car and locked the doors. As he drove, he constantly checked his mirrors, watching everything around him. It was not the time to be off guard. It was the time of vigilance, to be alert. Too many threats loomed. Minutes later, he reached his home, and for the first time in his life he went around the entire structure checking all the rooms and securing all the windows and doors before getting in the shower. Better to be safe than sorry. For him at least.

Chapter

16

That night, after settling in and talking to Jesse, he felt relieved of most the tension. That’s what he truly enjoyed about love, it had a way of distracting one from all worries. It also had the tendency to make one believe that things were not as bad as they seemed and that all would work out in the end. During their conversation, Laquez was careful not to mention anything about the shooting. He was just getting comfortable with her and did not want to ruin things or freak her out in any way. Especially since most of his experiences only occurred in his reality. There’s was no way he could explain that to her. He felt the day’s events tugging at the back of his mind. They just weren’t as prominent or domineering as they had been earlier. At 11:45 p.m., he was lounging in one of the leather chaises in his entertainment area. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Jesse. He was composed, at ease. Positive thoughts stimulated him, but all that changed an instant later. “Say a prayer and let the good times roll…in case…God doesn’t show…” The ringing of his cell phone startled him. All the dread flooded back, pushing bad thoughts to the forefront. He got up to answer his phone, assuming the worst. “Hello,” he said unnerved. “Laquez, it’s me.” He instantly recognized the voice. “Hey, Dyvee.” His fear transformed into nervous anxiety. “Did I wake you?”

“No, not at all.” “Okay. Well, I went to check out Sottoy Road. There was nothing out there. But I’ll keep looking for the Regal.” His tone wasn’t reassuring. “How ’bout you? You holding up all right? Nothing out of the ordinary going on that way, is it?” “Nah, all is quiet.” “That’s good to hear.” There was a brief pause. “Well, I just called to touch base with you…make sure you were good.” “Good looks.” “Do you want me to come by, chill with you tonight?” “No. I’d really feel like a wimp then.” Dyvee chuckled. “Yeah. I know, right? Anyway, I’ll give you a call in the afternoon, about that plate.” “Thanks buddy.” “Yup.” Laquez hung up. Oddly, he was a bit relieved after the call concluded. It was eerie that nothing was found, but at least he was home. He was relaxed. And he had Jesse. If the incidents were all in his head at least Jesse wasn’t. And he was sure that she could help him get his mind back on track. If these events weren’t occurring, then it was possible he could find his reality and block out any delusion moving forward. He went upstairs to his bed and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Chapter

17

Laquez slept through the night peacefully. When he woke, he felt anxious. He wasn’t as worried as his circumstances called for, but he was slightly edgy. His newly tranquil condition was due to the fact that in about two hours, he would be in the office with Jesse. And more likely than not, within her embrace. If that wasn’t something to look forward to, he didn’t know what was. He also anticipated the call at noon from Dyvee. The call would be significant depending on the news. If the plate number was not ed to a city bus, or was nonexistent, he would seek professional help. For the time being he would deal with things as they came and currently the most eminent thing was getting to work to be close to Jesse. As usual he worked out, showered, dressed, and ate a light breakfast. Then he was out the door, heading to his office in his Aston Martin.

*****

He entered his office feeling a sense of calm. In a few short moments, he would lay eyes and hands on Jesse. When he saw her, she looked even more gorgeous than she had the previous day. She wore beige slacks with a white fitted shoulder-cut shirt and beige vest that matched her heels perfectly. Her hair was pinned up in a bun with side bangs. She wore no makeup, only lip gloss. When she saw him, she lit up. She smiled, exposing her deep dimples. She stood and began moving toward him. He was beaming long before they embraced. “Baaaaby!” she squealed, joyous.

She entered his arms. They kissed. Expectations and inhibitions hindered their urge of overindulgence, though anticipation was becoming burdensome; resolve was weakening. Then they parted. Laquez was in a dreamy haze. Jesse gazed romantically at him. “I could really get used to this,” he stated, enthused. “Careful what you long for…you just might get it,” she philosophized. “Will I?” “If you want it?” “Question for a question,” he looked at her quizzically. She nodded, expectant. “In that case…hell yeah!” She laughed bashfully then floated back to her desk. “You’re too much,” she stated once seated. “And you’re beautiful.” “Stop flirting…you’re breaking my resolve.” “Isn’t that the point?” “Stop it,” she said, playfully exploitive. “We got work to do.” “Always business, business, business.” “Why does that sound familiar?” He shrugged as if clueless then walked to his desk and sat down. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“I, for one, have three interviews for the secretary position. I think I have the perfect person, but I still want to interview these last three.” “What time are the interviews?” “Ten, eleven, and twelve this afternoon.” “Good. I’ll be here to eavesdrop a little.” He eyed her humorously. “What else we got?” “At 2:30, I have my first presentation with a potential client. James Egen. He owns a tractor trailer company. He’s thinking of insuring with us.” “Do your homework?” “All last night.” “Before or after we spoke?” “Why does that matter?” she smirked with mirth. “It doesn’t. I was just messing with you. I know you’re fully prepared.” “Thanks for the confidence.” “It’s well-placed.” “All this flattery, the coupons are piling up.” “Coupons?” “You’ll see.” “When?” “Very soon.” “Ohhh!” he uttered with excitement. “In that case, you are the most wonderful, breathtaking, sexy, brilliant, erotic—” “Okay now.”

He laughed softly. “So, you have a busy day ahead.” “Mm hmm. What about you?” “What about me? I get to sit around and watch a magnificent woman take charge.” “No, you don’t. You have an important board meeting at two o’clock” “I do?” he asked, attentive. “In Manhattan.” “Holy CRAP! I truly forgot.” “No big deal.” She soothed. “Everything’s all set up. Don’t blow a fuse. You can relax. You leave at ten o’clock, and you’ll be there with some time to kill. But you’ll miss the interviews.” “And your first presentation,” he added, disappointed. “Oh well. At least I get to sit in your presence for the next hour and a half.” “Chi ching!” He smiled so broadly, he thought his mouth would split at the corners. She returned his smile with one equally big. He wondered if she noticed how deeply he blushed. Things seemed so normal, so perfect. He was anxious to cross that barrier of no restraint, then they could spend quality time together, unfettered. “Was that what I think it was?” he asked, staggered. “Mm hmm. They’re adding up.” “Excellent,” he exclaimed. “But on another note.” He paused thoughtfully. “I been meaning to ask you something.” “Ask away.” He hesitated because he was not all that sure of how he wanted to direct the

conversation. He very much wanted to share with her what he’d experienced, every aspect, from the glass of cognac, to the most recent encounter with the gold Regal. He had to be careful, to tread lightly on the subject matter. He certainly didn’t want her to think he was crazy or unstable. He figured the best approach would be to take a subtle stance: feel out the vibe and go from there. “You told me that according to your belief, this life was, how’d you put it, temporary?” “Yes.” “That real life starts after death?” “For the most part.” “So, have you ever experienced something, an event that you were one hundred percent sure occurred…that you were absolutely certain of, but in the end turned out to be a false memory or imaginary?” “Like a dream you thought was real? Or the memory of an event you could have sworn you were part of, but turned out to involve someone you knew?” she replied with comprehension. “Yeah. Something like that, but even more surreal. I’m talking so involved with the event, or occurrence, that your senses reacted to it…your instincts kicked in, your adrenaline pumped…where you actually felt afraid?” “Give me an example.” He did not want to be specific. “Okay,” he started thoughtfully, “here’s a scenario. Say you went into the kitchen. You made yourself a sandwich. And as soon as you were ready to bite into it, you found yourself still in the living room, exactly where you were when you first decided to make it. And you specifically the entire process, from thinking about the food, getting up, and making it…as well as how you felt when you did it. Yet, according to your reality, you never moved. How would you interpret that?” “Wow,” she responded, bewildered. “That’s deep. Did not expect that. But I

guess, if it was me, the only justification I can come up with is maybe…it was my imagination, that I saw it in my head and only subconsciously acted it out…I don’t know.” Her expression changed from interested to questioning. “Why do you ask? Have you ever had that type of experience?” He truly did not want to lie to her. Telling her the truth was definitely out of the question. He figured the best option was to answer her question with a question, try to divert her attention to another aspect of the scenario. “Would you consider something like that a hallucination?” “Possibly. I can see how that could count as one. It would be more like a mirage effect, or an illusion.” “That’s my understanding too,” he returned cognitively. “But for that to occur, wouldn’t you have to be on drugs or something?” “Or under extreme duress, or stress,” she put in, insightful. “Good point.” With that remark, the conversation trailed off, followed by thoughtful silence. Laquez pondered. If he was under stress prior to the first incident, stress that he wasn’t aware of, then perhaps it was the cause of his hallucinations. Jesse, on the other hand, considered why he would bring up such an outlandish topic and if there was a reason for her to be concerned. It intrigued her more than anything else. She saw a hint of something in his eyes as he talked. She wasn’t at all positive, but if she had to identify it, it would be equivocal. “Laquez,” she said, interrupting his chain of thought. “Yes, sexy.” She smiled at his compliment. “Are you all right? I mean…is there anything you want to tell me? Anything at all?” He looked at her skittishly. Had he given himself away? If so, how? Either way, he had to correct it immediately, put her at ease.

“I’m fine sweetie. I appreciate the sentiment though. I was just curious about your concept of life and reality.” His response appeared to suffice, for Jesse’s slight tension eased up. Her stare softened. They continued to converse, only it was centered on work. Ten o’clock arrived as if in the blink of an eye. Laquez headed out, departing with a warm kiss from Jesse. He tingled all over, which lasted from the time he left the office till he was cruising on I91 South. He was in such good spirits. To him, Jesse was flawless, perfect in every way. He decided that he could trust her with anything, and for that reason he would confide in her. He would tell her about his hallucinations and see what her reaction would be. He hoped, no, knew, she would believe him.

Chapter

18

Laquez had just hit New York when his cell rang. “Hello.” “Hey, Laquez, what’s up man?” Laquez quickly became a bit nervous. “Hey, Dyv, what’s the verdict?” “I checked out that plate like you said.” Laquez’s breath caught in his lungs. His throat seemed to restrict, and he couldn’t swallow. “It turns out the plate is ed to a public transit bus.” Laquez exhaled and swallowed; relief washed over him. “And it was traveling along Main Street as you said, around the time that you said. The driver’s name is George Glastein. I actually was able to interview him at the bus station. He didn’t recall almost hitting anyone, but he did seeing some type of commotion.” “Commotion?” Laquez inquired, attentive. “Well, according to him, he said there was a guy screaming and running after the bus he was driving. He noticed him in his side mirror, but couldn’t make out what he was yelling.” Laquez instantly deflated. It wasn’t the news he wanted to hear. But at least the bus really existed. “I got his information if you still want to make that complaint. Do you have a paper and pen at hand?” Laquez found that he was no longer interested in the information. He got what he expected. A part of his reality was verified. That was enough for the time being.

If he only caught up with that woman, that would’ve eased some mental distress. He decided to let it die. He had a board meeting to focus on. But first, he needed to one last thing. “Actually, I’m all set with that information, but could you call me back in about two minutes exactly. I’m heading to Manhattan.” “Two minutes?” Dyvee asked to confirm. “Yes.” “Okay.” Laquez continued to drive, watching the clock intensely as he did. Exactly two minutes later, his cell rang. “Hello.” “Yeah.” It was Dyvee. “Just so I’m clear,” Laquez began, feigning uncertainty, “the driver said he saw someone chasing the bus?” “That’s what he said.” “And he didn’t stop?” “Apparently not.” “Okay, thanks cous,” Laquez said, content. “No problem.” “See you when I get back.” “No doubt.” He hung up and drove on in silence. He was beginning to come to with his mental state. Perhaps Jesse was right. He was suffering from unconscious stress,

which was making him slightly delusional. But not crazy. It would . And everything would be all right.

*****

Laquez arrived at his Manhattan office at around 12:55. He had about an hour to kill before the meeting. He stopped for a bite to eat. Afterward, he headed straight to his board meeting. It went well. When it was over, he felt a bit more steady and in control. He needed to be aware and to be able to distinguish between reality and his spouts of delusion. Jesse had been on his mind most of the day. Thoughts of her seemed to fend off the reality illusions, so he kept her in his mind. As he walked to his car, he thought of how their marriage would be, how their children would look. Children. He couldn’t believe that he was even considering having some. In fact, his whole thought process was different. He had everything he desired in a woman. She had the power to distract his mind from worries, fears, confusion, even himself. When he was with her, or thinking of her, she became the only reality. He was coming up to the garage where he was parked, looking straight ahead, when he spotted someone who caused him to stop cold in his tracks. She looked even more beautiful than their first encounter, now that he was closer to her. He began to tremble with anticipation. The woman stood there in a pair of turquoise capris and a white tank top, staring up at the building before her. An expression of worry and awe blanketed her face. Her hair was twisted back into

one neat braid that hung down her back. He recognized her instantly. She was not yet aware of him. He was baffled, not by her beauty, but the circumstances. Out of all the places, and at this present moment, they had once again crossed paths. In reaction to the initial shock of seeing her, Laquez found he had neglected his surroundings. He found himself following her gaze, hypnotically, which led up to a thirty-story building, about twenty yards from where he stood. That was odd because prior to their first encounter, the boy who was struck by the bus was doing the same thing. When he focused on the point of her attention, unlike the boy, where he saw nothing when he looked up, he saw something this time. It caused his heart to race immensely. Panic swelled within him forcing him to react. “NOOO!” he shouted as he sprinted forward toward the building the woman was staring up at. The woman turned and noticed Laquez. Startled, her expression full of surprise and dread, she stumbled back. There was recognition in her eyes. Laquez noticed as he sprinted up even closer. He looked back to the rooftop ledge, at the man who was preparing to jump. He was about five yards away from the building when the man spread his arms out and took a swan dive off the ledge. “NOOO!” Laquez shouted reflexively. The man plummeted. He rushed toward the earth like a diver toward a pool, but the only splash would be his body when it hit the concrete. Laquez stopped running forward at the exact moment of impact. He turned away from the brutal scene before it got explicit, but he heard the effects as the man’s head exploded, his bones shattered and cracked, and his spine collapsed in on itself. When he looked back, the man was reduced to ragged flesh and shattered shards of bone. Blood and gore was littered around the body. Laquez removed his gaze and scanned the faces of those who ed by. They paid little if no attention to him or the splattered man. He watched numbly as people walked around or just sloshed through the mangled corpse as if it were not there at all. Some left footprints trailing through the mess.

He didn’t know what to say or do. He was awestruck. He had seen and heard the body hit. Now that the blood was out of the body, he could also smell that too. He ed the woman and frantically attempted to locate her. She had disappeared, evading him yet again. It was becoming frustrating. He was upset. He could not fathom how or why this woman kept popping up during the gruesome events he was so privy to witness, then disappearing all the same. She had to be connected somehow. If she could only keep still for questioning, that would solve some of his mental anguish. What he deduced was that she was Asian, beautiful, moved around Connecticut and New York, and was obviously going through the same thing he was. He wanted to put the incident out of his head. He looked at the body one last time, which, oddly, was just for his eyes. It was gruesome. Then he turned and walked back toward where his car was parked. He knew that if he happened to see that woman again, he would not lose track of her until he got some answers.

Chapter

19

At 6:30, Laquez exited the off-ramp into downtown Stamford. His cell phone rang then. “Say a prayer and let the good times roll…in…case…” His ring tone was becoming more eerie by the day. “Hello.” “Hey, Laquez.” The gloom in Dyvee’s voice immediately put him on alert. “You still in New York?” “No. Why? What’s up? You sound down.” Dyvee sighed grievously. “Ah, man. I…I need to see you.” “What happened?” “Not over the phone. I have to see you in person.” “It’s that serious?” “I’m afraid so.” “In that case, I’m on my way home now. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” “All right then. I’ll meet you there.” Dyvee wasted no time ending the call, leaving Laquez in uncontrolled suspense. He was scared and anxious at the same time. He knew it could not be about the gold Regal. That would have been good news. So, whatever Dyvee had to say had to be bad. It was best to be on guard.

He drove on in silence, surprisingly calm, which was not what these circumstances called for.

*****

Laquez pulled up in his driveway. He found Dyvee sitting patiently on his front steps. His unmarked car was parked out on the street in front of his house. When Dyvee saw him, he stood up and nodded. Laquez pulled into the garage. The door lowered behind him. A minute later, he was opening the front door to allow Dyvee in. They greeted each other with dap and a quick hug. Laquez led Dyvee deeper into the entertainment area. Dyvee seated himself in one of the butter-soft leather chairs while Laquez stood nervous and expectant. The look on Dyvee’s face was even more troubling than he imagined it would be. He looked defeated as if things had taken a turn for the worst. Laquez could not take the quietude that followed their greeting. “Well, what’s up cous?” Dyvee did not want to reveal the news to Laquez, especially considering what had been occurring in his life recently. The news was terrible enough to put his friend’s already fragile state into a frenzy. He had to do it delicately. “Could we have a drink first…just kick it for a while. Then we’ll get into the reason I’m here.” “I’d rather you just tell me first. We’ll get it out the way then have that drink. We can chill then. The suspense is too much.” “Please, cous?” Dyvee pleaded, which was not like him at all. There was something about his gaze that persuaded Laquez to comply. Without another word, Laquez moved to the bar and poured them both a drink, a double shot of cognac. He returned with the drinks and handed one to Dyvee. He took a seat opposite him and took a nice gulp. Dyvee followed suit.

“So how was NY?” Dyvee asked conversationally. Laquez was unnerved. He ed the jumper and the Asian woman. He had no intention of telling him about that. “It was all right,” he said coolly, “just business.” “So, everything’s going pretty good, right?” “Uh-huh,” Laquez muttered. “as they could be, for now.” “That’s good to hear.” They eyed each other awkwardly. Dyvee was running out of subtlety, and Laquez knew it. His stare was penetrating, and it made Dyvee squirm a bit, yet he held fast. “You know, Laquez,” he began, “the thing that gets me about life is that you never know what to expect.” Dyvee continued, regarding Laquez’s impatience. “One day everything is good…going right according to plan. Then…BAM!” He punched his hand with his fist for emphasis. Laquez jumped slightly. “Something tragic happens. Now, what do you do…with that tragedy?” It wasn’t intended as a question, but more of a thought. He gave no time for an answer. “You either accept it as it is…you justify it, or…you allow it to destroy you.” “I get the feeling that you’re leading up to something. I’d rather you just say it.” “Laquez, in my field of work I see some horrific things. I witness extreme injustices…accidents, murders, overdoses, a lot of ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ scenarios. And you know what troubles me most about it all?” Laquez just stared at him. “How unfair life really is…mainly for those who have to deal with their losses.” “Okay, I think I get it,” Laquez chimed in. “Something happened to someone close, and you’re trying to soften the blow. Is that it?” Dyvee’s expression confirmed that it was something along those lines, but he didn’t respond. “Or,” Laquez added, “you believe I’m allowing my mother’s death to drive me

nuts and you’re trying to treat me with your sketchy psychological skills. But the thing is I’m fine. I’ve completely accepted my mom’s death. So, you don’t have to continue with the song and dance. Just tell me straight out.” Dyvee appeared to be paying little attention to his rebuke or assumption. He instead proceeded to finish his point. “Do you know what I do to justify all the suffering, all the chaos I deal with on a weekly basis?” Laquez was intrigued. “I tell myself that it never happened, that it was all an illusion…a dream that I’ll awake from in the next life. And there I’ll find every one that I ever saw hurt, happy and at peace.” “That sounds…totally nuts,” Laquez countered plainly. For a brief instance, both men eyed each other, feeling out the other. Dyvee raised his glass of cognac to his mouth and gulped down the remainder of its contents. He breathed out a sigh as the alcohol burned within his chest. Reflexively, Laquez gulped his down too. When their glasses were empty Dyvee looked up with pity in his eyes. Laquez noted the emotional shift and instinctively prepared himself for what would come next. “At about 4:50 p.m.,” Dyvee spewed informatively with some reluctance, “there was an attempted robbery at a gas station on Memorial Avenue.” “That’s right down the street from my office,” Laquez interjected with surprise. “I know. But here’s the thing.” He paused slightly to build up his resolve for the next part. “The perpetrator had his gun fixed on the cashier, who was fumbling with the . While that was going on, a customer entered, oblivious to the robbery. She must’ve startled the perp because he turned and fired a single shot in her direction. The bullet hit her in her left breast, piercing her heart. She died as he fled the gas station.” Laquez eyed him with a troubled gaze. It made Dyvee want to stop right there. But he could not. He had to be the one to tell him. “Laquez…it was Jesse. She’s gone man.”

Laquez’s expression went from disbelief, to shock, despair, then denial all in that moment. He sat there, dumbstruck, not really sure how to react. His mind felt cloudy, partly due to the alcohol, which had been an excellent idea after all. Dyvee stared at him, sympathetic; empathy radiated off him like heat. It happened then. The first signs of an emotional breakdown. Laquez’s eyes began to mist. The tears flowed. Then he began to sob hard. His body tensed then shook with outburst of anguish. He slumped in his chair, dropped his face in his hands, and bawled harder than he’d ever done in his whole life, and ever would again. Dyvee thought about going over and embracing him but decided against it. He knew his friend was broken beyond repair. Condolences would probably crack his already fragmented psyche. It was best to leave him be. Laquez literally cried for forty-five minutes straight. Every time Dyvee thought it was all out, he would start up again, despair renewed with vigor. When the crying did finally subside, Laquez hopped up so sudden that Dyvee flinched. When Dyvee attempted to stand too, Laquez held out his hand, halting him before he rose. Then he left the room. Fifteen minutes ed, and Dyvee became worried that Laquez had done something to himself. He was just about to check when he reentered the room and headed straight for the bar. He returned with two glasses and the bottle of cognac. He handed one to Dyvee, who took it graciously. He filled his friend’s glass, then he filled his own. Dyvee studied Laquez’s demeanor fully as he poured their drinks. His expression was blank, unreadable, his posture nullified. He seemed indifferent. His eyes had already become puffy and red from all the crying. When he was done pouring, he set the bottle down beside him. He grabbed his glass, took a good swig, swallowed deeply, and set his eyes on Dyvee. “Where’s the guy who killed her?” he asked, indignant. “Dead,” Dyvee answered flatly. “After he shot…After he left the gas station, he was spotted by a patrol car heading west in the Chevy Malibu that was in the gas station video footage. The guy panicked. He tried to outrun the cruiser. The officer pursued him. It was a high-speed chase. The perp lost control and hit a light pole at one hundred and ten miles an hour, wasn’t wearing a seat belt. He

ended up going through the windshield. He hit the pole just as hard as the vehicle he was driving.” That brought some relief to Laquez though not nearly enough. “I had just made her my partner, officially,” he informed distantly. “Shit, man! We never even made love.” The tears threatened to overwhelm him again. That familiar lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down with another gulp of cognac. Dyvee was at a loss for words. He felt helpless. There was nothing he could do or say to lighten the mood. All he could do was sit there, watching his friend in torment, listening to the hurt in his voice. “What am I supposed to do now, man?” he asked hopelessly. “Huh? What am I supposed to do now?” “You keep living,” Dyvee advised right away. “That’s the only option. That’s what she would want.” “Keep living, huh?” The sarcasm in his tone was thick. “Act like it never happened? That’s what you do right? Act like it’s all just an illusion.” Dyvee remained silent, allowing him to vent. “Like she was never killed by some fucking lowlife?” Laquez was fuming. “Or better yet, like she never really existed?” The alcohol increased his rage. “Life’s a dream anyway, right? The only ones who are awake are the fucking dead.” Laquez chuckled sullenly. “Does it work for you Dyvee? Does it help you sleep better at night…to pretend?” “Am I to blame for this Laquez?” he said apologetically. “Am I the bad guy for having to tell you?” Laquez immediately felt remorseful. “Nah man. It’s just…this shit’s crazy.” He nearly broke down again. He gulped his drink to stifle the emotion that seemed so overbearing. “I keep seeing her face, her smile…those dimples. She was a good person. She didn’t deserve to die like that. I really loved her.” “I know. I’m sorry.”

Laquez stared at his friend. He was really glad he was there. He wasn’t alone in such a vulnerable state. If not for Dyvee being there, he may have very well took his own life. For the next few hours, they talked and drank. They talked about suffering, about life’s unfairness, about Jesse, and about moving on. The prospect of life without her seemed worthless to Laquez. He didn’t think he’d ever meet another who could touch him as deeply as she had. They talked about his mother’s death and the ceremonies scheduled for the next day. He would really have a hard time with all of it. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Dyvee finally left. Laquez insisted he take a cab because he was intoxicated, but he refused. He wanted to drive. He believed it would help him clear his mind and his heart from all the pain. Laquez was left alone to wallow in his own sorrows and think. He began to wonder if, in fact, Jesse’s death was a false reality. Maybe he wasn’t really having this moment? Maybe Dyvee hadn’t really come by with that terrible news. And tomorrow, when he woke up, perhaps he would find that none of this happened. He liked that concept. Yet, somehow, he knew that it wouldn’t be that simple. Still it managed to ease his heartache some. He clung to the hope, no matter how minimal, that this was all in his head. He would work out as usual, shower, eat, and head out. When he got to the office he would find Jesse smiling at him from behind her desk. All would be as it was, as it should have been. He was hopeful. Intoxication was merciful. Pain, relentless. One could escape the hurt of the day, but tomorrow, it returns with a vengeance.

Chapter

20

Laquez awoke to a pounding headache, a terrible crick in his back and neck, and incredible nausea. He found himself alone, where he had ed out in the chair he had last been drinking in. That’s when it hit him. He ed their conversation, Jesse’s death, and getting drunk with Dyvee. He looked across to where Dyvee had been sitting. The chair was empty. It was like he’d never been there. Even the glass Dyvee had used was gone. Laquez rose sluggishly, in pain, and attempted to stretch out the crick in his neck and back. Afterward, he looked around the chair that he rose from. He found a glass and an empty bottle of cognac. He took a wobbly step but stopped as his head began to spin. When that stage ed, he took another step, then another. Eventually he was stumbling into the kitchen. He was happy to find that there was no glass in the sink or even in the dish rack. Next, he checked the shelf behind the bar. He found the missing glass, clean as if it was never used. His hopes were building. To really get them up, he needed but to dial Dyvee’s number and ask about last night. But the more he thought about that, the more reluctant he became. He relished the small hope that he had. He did not want to have it dashed by a phone call. He felt it best to start the day on a positive note, even if it meant being a little naive. Naivete was better than gut-wrenching pain, which is what he would feel if it turned out that she was indeed dead. His next order of business was to remedy the hangover that was currently stifling his focus. He knew just the thing for it. Usually if he had too much to drink the night before, he could easily cure any hangover with a can of V8, followed by a glass of orange juice. Last, he’d suck on a lemon slice. For some reason, it did the trick all the time. Moving clumsily, he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and walked to the fridge. He retrieved a can of V8 and a bottle of orange juice. Then he grabbed a slice of lemon. He closed the fridge and wobbled to the stool by the kitchenette.

He sat down, popped the tab on the V8, and drank it down in small consistent gulps. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and downed it thirstily. He let his stomach settle some before he stood and put the lemon slice in his mouth and began to suck as he headed out of the kitchen. He looked at the clock in the next room and saw that it was 7:15 a.m. He didn’t have it in him to work out, and since his stomach was still a bit sour, he decided to skip breakfast as well. He showered, dressed, and headed to the office as if last night never occurred.

*****

By 8:30, he was in the elevator on the way up to his office. He felt anxious, worried that she would not be there, at her desk as she should be. He was also a bit fearful that she would be. That would confirm that he had another episodic hallucination. A real doozy at that. When the elevator opened, he stepped out of it. He was so nervous that his teeth chattered slightly. He walked down the hall as smoothly as his condition would allow. It took every bit of his will to keep from bolting straight to their office and bursting through the door screaming her name. He took a right and entered the reception area. He noticed right away that most of the employees were watching him intently. They looked concerned for him. He waved and smiled at those who made eye . He saw some of the tension ease as they returned his greeting. He couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad sign. He failed to pick up the emotion in so many of their gazes, the sympathy. Had he looked closely at two of his employees particularly, he would have seen their genuine tears of sadness. It seemed to take forever to get past them. He felt their eyes burning into his back as he twisted the knob and entered the secretaries’ space that once belonged to Jesse. He closed the door behind him, blocking out the onlookers. In there, he was confronted by a more immediate surprise. Before him sat a brown-eyed woman with a chocolate complexion. Her hair was spiked, cut short

in a neat dew. Dazzling gold earrings hung from each lobe. Her lips were full and luscious with a soft pout to them. Her cheekbones were smooth, and her features were strong. Her eyebrows were thick and trimmed, highlighting her exotic chinky eyes. The expression she wore was mixed with uncertainty, sorrow, and yes, condolences. From what Laquez could see, she wore a black long-sleeved cotton shirt that clung to her voluptuous breasts. She was certainly a beauty. “Hello,” he said, uncertainly. “You must be the new secretary?” He walked toward her, extending his hand. “Laquez Fortell.” She stood with reverence and took the offered hand. “Alisha Mattex. Jesse told me so much about you.” “Is that so?” “Oh, yes.” They released hands, and Laquez looked around observant. “I see you made the space cozy.” “Yes. Jesse said it was okay. She said I could furnish it however I wanted, at your expense.” “Oh, did she now?” “She said you said the same thing when you hired her.” “Yes, I did. I think it provides a certain comfort level.” “Oh, I agree, totally.” One glance into her eyes and he read her attraction to him. He also saw something else, hesitation. He was off-limits to her, or at least she felt. “Welcome aboard.” “Thank you so much.”

“I’ll be in there if you need me.” “Sure thing.” He entered the inner office with a sense of surety that he’d be greeted by Jesse. The moment he walked into their office, he was startled and surprised at the same time to see her. She hopped up and rushed toward him, embracing him before he was barely over the threshold. “Hey beautiful man.” She smothered him with kisses. He was overwhelmed with joy. A tear fell down his cheek. Since their mouths were pressed together, she did not notice the tear. When they separated, he wiped the tear away discreetly. He smiled enormously. Their arms were still wrapped around each other. “Hey you,” he said merrily. “You seemed to be in a great mood.” “Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied, blissful. “You’re mines, we’re in love. Not to mention rich and successful.” She unwrapped her arms and moved back over to her desk. “So how was New York?” “It was okay.” He moved to his own desk. “It all went well.” “So, what do you think about our new secretary?” “She seems perfect.” “Pretty too.” “Definitely. She has style too. Her office looks great.” “Yeah. I told her to spare no expense.” “I know. She told me.” “And she didn’t, I’ll tell you that.” “That woman likes nice things. Can’t knock her for that.” “True,” she concurred. “Are you saying that I don’t?” There was clear humor in

her question. “You have your own style. A style I, for one, love.” “You always know what to say.” “Chi ching!” He mocked, gleeful. “Ohhh! So now you’re giving coupons?” “If it’s deserved, it’s deserved.” “You are so in trouble.” “Why does that phrase sound so good in this context?” She chuckled mischievously then switched modes. “Did anything interesting happen in NY?” He didn’t hesitate at all to confide in her. He had thought he lost her, that he would never get the opportunity to share everything with her. There was nothing he would keep from her from this point on. “To tell you the truth, something did happen. But I gotta tell you, it’s gonna sound crazy.” “I like crazy,” she said, urging him on. “ that talk we had yesterday, about experiencing an event that didn’t really happen? You referred to them as mirages or hallucinations?” “Yes, I recall.” “You asked me if there was something more I had to tell you? Well, there is.” “Oh,” she uttered, all ears. “I’ve been having these…reality issues. I don’t know what to call them because all five senses are involved.” He was hesitant but not because he regretted opening up but because he wanted to be crystal clear. “I’ve been witnessing

things, doing things, that appear to be real. So real that I would’ve bet my life that they happened.” “Really?” Her interest piqued. He spent the next hour or so running down every incident, starting with the glass of cognac and ending with the news of her demise. When he concluded, she sat there with her mouth agape, astonished. For her, it was a complex mixture of illusion and reality. For Laquez, it was a psychological dilemma, or crisis, depending on point of view. “So last night, your friend said I died, shot and killed in a gas station?” “According to my memory, absolutely.” “And you this as clearly as coming to work this morning?” “Correct.” “You also said that you’d been drinking a lot?” “Yes, but only after I got the news. I hadn’t been drinking prior to that. When I pulled up and found him at my house, I was totally sober.” “That is bizarre.” He looked at her expectantly, hoping she’d say more. She read his expression for what it was and smirked. “What?” “You don’t think I’m losing my mind?” “Not at all.” “Are you just saying that to make me feel good?” “You know me better than that.” “So, what’s your prognosis on all this?”

She thought a second, then went over what she would say in her mind. “Well, first off, as I said, I don’t think you’re crazy. In fact, I believe you really experienced all those things.” “Huh?” He was dumbfounded. “Bear with me a sec,” she said modestly. “How I see it, what you experienced, the events you witnessed were perhaps alternate realities. The only thing I can’t understand was how you were able to experience them while still in this one?” “So basically, what you’re saying is that these things really happened, but in another realm of reality?” “Well, yeah,” she answered frankly. Laquez considered her theory for a moment. He thought of the incidents and events that took place. Some of which could easily be explained by her hypothesis, others could not. “There’s one problem that jumps out at me about your theory.” “Which is?” “If these incidents really happened but in different realms of reality, how did I… I mean, why is it affecting other realities related to mine?” “Meaning?” “Well…for instance, the Marvin situation. I’ve known this man for over a decade. I’ve visited his home in Hartford. I’ve met his wife and children. Yet, after I supposedly witnessed his death…it’s as if he never existed…or his wife and kids. And, although the house is where I ed it to be and its appearance has not changed…it is not, nor was it ever, someone named Marvin’s home.” “That’s according to the man who answered the door?” “Right.”

“I see where you coming from,” she said, frowning thoughtfully. “Same as that hit-and-run incident. That bus really went by…at the exact moment I believed that it did.” “That does put a different spin on things.” “And you still don’t think I’m loony?” She smiled sarcastically. “No Laquez. I still don’t.” He loved her for that. “So, what do you propose I do about this?” he asked, genuinely interested in her opinion. “Truthfully…I really can’t say. I mean…you may really feel that these events are real…that they took place. They may have possibly really taken place. The true question, to me, is…on which plane of reality? And how did you get this uncanny ability. And, more imperative…why?” “But what about that woman?” Laquez blurted, with sudden recollection. “She appears to have witnessed two of the events. She must also have the ability too.” “Either that…or she too, is a fragment of an alternate reality.” “Why do you say that?” he asked worriedly. “Well…you said it yourself…every time you see her, she evades you…She disappears. So, perhaps she doesn’t exist on this plane of reality. That’s why you can’t catch up to her for questioning.” Laquez had never looked at it in that light. He had to it that she made a lot of sense regarding the woman’s part in this. “All I know,” Jesse continued, “is that the mind is a powerful thing. Whatever it perceives as real usually becomes just that…even if only to the beholder.” At that exact moment, Laquez’s cell phone rang. He answered it and found that it was Paster Twyvo. Immediately he ed the ceremonies. He couldn’t

believe how preoccupied his mind was to have forgotten his own mother’s funeral. “Hello, Laquez,” the pastor greeted. “I’m sure you already know the nature of this call.” “Pretty much!” Laquez confirmed. “Well…just wanted to give you the thumbs-up and let you know that all is in order and will proceed according to plan.” “Thank you, Pastor. I’ll be there at 12:30.” “I’ll see you then. God bless!” “You too!” Laquez hung up and looked at his watch. It was 10:15 a.m. That gave him just enough time to head home, change, then shoot to the church. He stood up swiftly and glanced at Jesse. “That was the pastor. We have to hurry and get to the church before everyone arrives.” “You go on ahead. I’ll take care of things here.” He looked at her with severe disappointment. “Don’t worry about business… we’re all set for the day. Plus…I want you to come with me.” “I’ll be with you,” she said confidently. “In spirit. I think it’s best I stay here for now.” He eyed her with uncertainty. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to go with him. He knew that she hardly knew his mother, but he expected her to be there to him. He wouldn’t force the issue though, for he didn’t know how she felt about funerals, and also, he wasn’t sure if she would feel out of place attending the funeral of someone who was practically a stranger to her. So, he let it go, smiling to let her know he understood. “Okay!” he said smoothly, as he approached her desk. “You hold things down

here. I’ll call you when it’s all over.” He moved around the desk toward her. She stood, and as soon as he was in arm’s reach, she hugged him, glancing deeply into his eyes. “…,” she said softly, in a whisper, “I’ll be with you in spirit.” Then she kissed him, ionately. He returned every bit of the affection. After the kiss, they departed, backstepping, not taking their eyes off each other until he was by the door. Then he turned and made his exit. He slipped through the conference room and into Alisha’s office. She was at work at her desk. She looked up as he entered and smiled. He returned her smile and exited her office as well. In the reception area, his employees watched him, but not nearly as intensely as they had upon his arrival. He would not have noticed even if they had, for he was floating, in the way that only love could make a man float.

*****

He rode the whole time in a state of mental ecstasy. All the pain and hurt from the day before dissipated as if it never was. He was a bit troubled by the pretense of the events of last night. But that was a disillusioned part of reality that he was grateful to acknowledge. Jesse’s being dead was a reality that he was not prepared to endure. He was about ten minutes away from the church when he decided to call Jesse, just to tell her he loved her, for he had not done so on his way out of the office. He dialed the number and waited excitedly for her to answer. After the fourth ring, her answering machine picked up. “Hi…this is Jesse. Sorry I missed your call, please feel free to call me back at any time.” He loved her voice. Just the sound of it made him blush. When he hung up the

phone, he dialed the direct line to her desk. Again, just the answering service. Last, he tried her home phone. No answer. He decided to dial the secretary’s line and ask her to put him through to Jesse. Maybe Jesse was with her in her office, chatting like women do at times. He dialed the number. On the first ring, Alisha answered. “Greetings! Only Insurance. Ms. Mattex speaking. How may I be of service?” Her tone was certainly professional. “Hey, Alisha. It’s me, Laquez.” “Oh… Hi, Mr. Fortell. What can I do for you sir?” “I’m looking for Jesse. Is she with you?” There was a strange silence on the opposite end. It was as if she was not sure how to answer. “Oh…Mr. Fortell,” she said uncomfortably, “Jesse’s gone.” “Oh! Okay. I’ll just try her cell phone again. Thanks Alisha.” He hung up without giving her a chance to respond. He dialed Jesse’s cell phone again, then her house phone. Still no answer. It was beginning to bug him royally. He couldn’t understand, for the life of him, why she wasn’t answering his calls. Then it came to him, a possible answer. She had changed her mind about attending the funeral with him. She was probably on her way to the church as well. She wasn’t answering because she feared she may give away the surprise. She would just show up when he least expected and stand firmly by his side. That had to be it. He refused to believe anything else. He put his cell phone in his pocket. He looked up ahead and could see the church. The parking lot was about fifty yards from where he was currently. It looked deserted. When he got to the lot, as he suspected, there weren’t many cars there yet. He knew that would not be the case in about thirty more minutes.

He parked his Camaro in one of the spaces closest to the church’s entrance. He got out and entered the church. He found Pastor Twyvo by the alter where his mother’s casket was displayed. Laquez walked up and shook the pastor’s hand. Then he moved to the head of the casket. The casket itself was made of white cedar. The carvings were intricate. The design modest, but dignified. The entire casket was shellac with the exception of the upper part, which was made of double pane glass, slightly tinted, so although the casket was closed, one could still see the person within it. To Laquez, she looked beautiful, even frozen in death. She looked so tranquil. The funeral home had done a terrific job preparing her. Pastor Twyvo explained, in detail, how the ceremony would go. First, they would hold the wake, where they would allow everyone to view the deceased. Those who felt compelled to open the upper part of the casket for a last kiss or caress would be able to do so. After the wake, there would be a processional, where individuals in attendance would be able to say a few words about the deceased. The pastor would begin and close with Sya’s favorite prayers. After the opening prayer, Laquez, of course, would have the podium, followed by those closest to him. The burial would proceed the processional. Pastor Twyvo would say a prayer before reciting a very special sermon he prepared for Sya expressly. After that sermon, he would say a different prayer to commit Sya’s body to the earth. Last, they would have a huge feast for the repast. It would turn out to be a pretty lovely event, even considering the fact that it was a funeral. By the time the preparations were all explained, the first of the procession arrived. Dyvee and Yacub were among them. The moment Yacub saw Laquez, he hugged him fiercely and began to sob uncontrollably. “I’m sorry man!” he babbled, sodden. “Life just ain’t fair man. I…can’t… can’t…believe this…shit.” He was barely audible between the sniffling. “This is too much for you…man. It’s…just…too…much.” Laquez clutched him, comforting, soothing. “It’s all right man. These things happen. We all go sooner or later man. All we can hope is that we all go in

peace. But I’m fine man. I’m serious.” Yacub released Laquez and held him out at arm’s length. He looked him deeply in his eyes, and he saw that Laquez truly seemed okay. “You really are all right, huh?” “Yes,” Laquez assured, holding his friend by the shoulders. “I accept death. It’s an experience we all can count on.” Yacub moved on then, in search of a seat in the front pew. Dyvee was the next to approach Laquez. He had a look of discontent on his face as he eyed his friend. It was as if he wasn’t quite sure how to take Laquez’s calm, composed demeanor, especially considering the circumstances. It was as if he expected him to be more displaced, more withdrawn. He was extremely impressed at the way he handled Yacub, who was the most sensitive of the three. He couldn’t believe how cool he seemed. But he wasn’t going to question a good thing. If Laquez had his emotions in check, as it appeared, then he was happy for him. He also embraced Laquez with a firm hug. “Looks like you’re doing well,” Dyvee acknowledged. “I have to say…you really are resilient.” “I guess I’ve just accepted the death concept. Once you do that…it really doesn’t bother you that much.” “Are you sure you’re good?” “You said it yourself…I look the part. And I’ve never been a good actor.” “That is true.” Dyvee smiled. “Well…I’m glad to see you in control. It gives me a sense of strength too, I can’t lie.” “Well…go on and find yourself a seat. The ceremonies will start in minutes.” He gestured with his head to the line building up behind Dyvee. “Got a whole community to meet and greet. I’ll talk to you after.” “Okay!”

Laquez patted him on the back as he walked off. From that point, an endless row of people seemed to file in. Laquez briefly greeted person after person, to where it got to the point that he felt the greetings would never end. Many people attended the ceremonies, most of which he had never seen in his life. By the time the line had finally dwindled down to the last three people, the church was at full capacity. Once everyone was in and seated, Laquez found himself a seat between Yacub and Dyvee. The wake went beautifully. So many people wanted to either kiss or touch Sya’s face that they decided it was best to leave the upper lid open. During the processional, over ninety people spoke, all speaking highly of the deceased. Yacub attempted to speak, but got too choked up, so in the end, Dyvee and Laquez had to say it for him. The burial, too, was heartfelt and perfect. Even the reception was exceptional, having more spice than Laquez, Yacub, and Dyvee had anticipated. The food was excellent and the music was choice. The dancing also had a looseness to it, not expected of churchgoers. Laquez had learned a lot about his mom that night, along with the church. He understood why she spent so much time there. There was a strong sense of community, a true togetherness, a sincerity among the , and, yes, genuine love. By the time it was all over, Laquez had a certain appreciation of the church. He decided that if he ever ed a church, this would be the one. And he would invite Jesse to be a member. The ceremony lasted until 8:30 p.m. As people began clearing out and saying their farewells, Laquez, Dyvee, and Yacub found themselves grouped together outside in the parking lot. All three of them were in merry moods. Oddly, even Yacub was composed and feeling an appreciation of the atmosphere. “So…what you got planned tonight?” Dyvee asked Laquez. “Want to hang out with us for a while?” “I would love to…but I actually have something to do. But I tell you what…I’ll call y’all if I finish early.” As both men nodded, Laquez gave them dap and hugs, then rushed to his

Camaro, leaving them eyeing him with slight concern and sympathy. He jumped in his car, backed out, and put it in drive. He stopped though when he was abreast with them. He rolled down his enger side window as they approached. “What…are you guys hanging out here?” he asked in jest. “Nah!” Dyvee replied, facetious. “We were just wondering what was so important that you couldn’t hang out with old pals?” Laquez smiled conspiratorially then said, “Jesse,” and peeled off in a showboat fashion, leaving a smoke screen before the two men, and burnt rubber on the pavement. He didn’t look in his rearview mirror, for if he did, he would have not only seen the look of concern and pity on their faces, but also them gesturing frantically with their hands for him to come back.

*****

Laquez was riding down Sottoy Road when his cell phone rang. Usually he never checked the caller ID before answering because he knew only those dear to him had his cell number. He checked it this time because he had a feeling that it was either Yacub or Dyvee calling to check on him like worried parents. He could already hear them asking if he was all right, if he wanted to come with them, that he shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. But what they didn’t know was that he was good and he would be even better once he got his sweetheart on the phone. That’s who he wanted to talk to, more than anything. Not Dyvee or Yacub. He let his cell ring until his messaging service picked up. He would let them leave a message, which he was sure they would do, and that he would check later. Just as he presumed, his phone notified him that he had a new message. He dialed Jesse’s cell phone. He was surprised when he still got her answering machine. He called her house after. Same thing. He was beginning to worry. He could not think of any feasible reason why she

wasn’t answering either of her numbers. Something had to be wrong. He desperately wanted to go by her home, but if he did that, he wasn’t sure how she would read it. He would actually be intruding on her privacy. She may take that the wrong way. Besides, he had not been invited over yet. Maybe she was busy, or just wanted some time to herself. She could even be asleep. It was a weekday after all. With nothing else to do, except wait to see if she would return his call, he decided to check the message he recently received from Dyvee. It was marked as urgent nonetheless. He hit play. Dyvee’s voice came on the line. There was extreme worry in his tone. “Laquez, call me.” Laquez quickly became concerned, for he was not expecting Dyvee to be in such a mood, especially since he had just left him in good spirits not even ten minutes ago. He dialed Dyvee’s number and waited for him to answer. He answered on the first ring. “Laquez?” he said desperately. “Yeah! What’s up man? You sound haunted.” “Where are you now?” “I’m still on Sottoy Road. Duh! I just left you.” “I know. That should’ve been obvious. Hey man…I need you to pull off to the side of the road. We’re leaving the parking lot as we speak. I need to talk to you. It’s so very important.” “Are you serious?” Laquez asked, offish. “Deadly serious. Please. Just pull over. We’ll be there in three minutes or so.” Then the line clicked dead. Laquez did not like the vibe he just got from his friend. It reminded him of the other night, which didn’t happen, but sure seemed like it did, with the whole bit about Jesse being killed. He knew that Dyvee had something significant to say,

or he would have just said it on the phone, or when he left the message to begin with. All Laquez could do was comply and prepare for the worst. He pulled off the road, got out of his vehicle, leaving the lights on so that they could easily spot him, then he leaned on the driver door side with his arms folded across his chest. Four minutes later, he saw headlights speeding toward him. When they neared, the vehicle slowed and veered off to the side of the road, parking directly behind him. The enger side door, then the driver’s side door opened simultaneously. Out jumped Yacub, followed by Dyvee. Both men moved with purpose until they were a foot away, on either side of him. They looked like they were having nervous breakdowns. Laquez glared at them, feeling their nervous energy. “What? Am I under arrest?” he stated coyly with humor. Yacub smirked, while Dyvee kept a serious expression. “Laquez,” Dyvee began gently, “when you pulled off a minute ago…did you say Jesse was the reason you couldn’t chill with us?” “Yeah!” he said as he nodded. Both Yacub and Dyvee glanced at each other, as if aware of something that Laquez wasn’t. They looked back to him an instant later. “What exactly did you mean by that?” Dyvee asked, solicitous. “Thaaat…I was going to call her.” He glared at them as if they were the crazy ones. “I haven’t gotten through yet, but I will.” “Laquez…,” Dyvee interjected, “you don’t what I told you last night?” That’s when it hit Laquez, the anxiety, fear, and anguish of a reality he was not willing to accept, could not accept. “That can’t be,” he stated disoriented. “You couldn’t have been at my house last night.”

“But I was, Laquez,” Dyvee insisted. “We got pissy drunk, ?” “But you were gone when I woke up. And there was only one glass that was used.” “You ed out. I washed my glass out and put it back behind the bar, on the shelf, then I left. Maybe I should have left a note.” Laquez went silent as this reality started to sink in. It was certainly reasonable, and made perfect sense that Dyvee had cleaned up after himself. So, he could accept that he had been there last night. What he could not accept was Jesse’s death. The fact remained that he had just seen her in their office earlier today. He knew that to be true, just as he knew the difference between dreaming and being conscious. “Okay!” he said finally, with justification. “So you were with me last night. But you were mistaking. It wasn’t Jesse who was killed. You probably just thought it was. Maybe the girl looked a lot like Jesse, but it wasn’t.” “What makes you so sure of that?” Yacub asked outright. “Because we were together in our office this morning,” Laquez proclaimed with confidence. “We talked, we kissed, we hugged, I know because all my senses told me she was there. I saw her…I heard her…I felt her…I smelt her, shit…I even tasted her lips. And I told her about our conversation last night, Dyvee. She didn’t seem to think it was her who was killed at a gas station either.” Again, both men looked at each other, conspiratorially, but with even more sympathy. They looked back to Laquez. He seemed to be thoroughly convinced that Jesse was not the one who met a tragic end the day before. This severely bothered both men, who were truly familiar with Jesse’s appearance. It was even more disturbing for Dyvee, because he was the one at the scene of the crime. He was the one who identified her and at that very moment knew where her pocketbook, with all her identification, credit cards, and money, was stored at the station. Her parents were coming to retrieve them within the next day or so. “Laquez,” Dyvee said, after a moment of thought, “I think you need to follow me.” “Follow you where?” Laquez asked defensive.

“To Mercy Hospital. I think you need to see it for yourself.” “See what?” “Jesse’s body,” he said flatly. “I’m a hundred percent positive it was her. I identified her at the crime scene. Her car…the gray 2015 Infinity FX…is at the impound. I’ve already ed her parents. They’re flying in from Albany to make arrangements for the ceremony.” That piece of information shook Laquez’s confidence, for that’s exactly where Jesse had told him her family lived. And he, on the other hand, had never mentioned that to Yacub or Dyvee. But still, he had seen her earlier. He had touched her. How could that have only been in his head? Even hallucinations were not that vivid. Or were they? There was only one way to be sure. He had to accompany them to the morgue. “All right!” he said boldly, though he felt anything but. “Let’s go!” Dyvee nodded, and both he and Yacub headed back to his unmarked car. Laquez got into his Camaro. When Dyvee pulled out in front, Laquez put his car in drive and followed close behind them. In his heart, he was terrified. He wanted so much to see another woman on that morgue bed. That thought, or hope in this case, was selfish, but he didn’t care. If he saw it was Jesse, he would probably die right there, at least emotionally. Not only that, he would know for certain that he was mentally unstable, a wack job, and would surely need professional help. He would, certifiably, be one for the asylum. Forty minutes later, all three men were entering the hospital, where Jesse’s body was supposed to be. Dyvee spoke to the officer on duty and then to the staff in charge of storing the body. He told them that he needed to view the body, to make another positive identification. He explained, briefly, who Laquez was to the deceased, and they were allowed access to the morgue. They were led down to a lower level of the hospital and then into a cold room where bodies were temporarily stored. Three gurneys were in the center of the room, of what was referred to as the cadaver bank. Bodies occupied each one of

them, covered in white sheets. All that was exposed was the feet of each person, on which a tag hung from the big toe with a number printed on it. These bodies apparently were in the process of being stored in the repository. There were three rows of slabs contained in the walls, starting from knee high and ending at chest level. To the right and to the left of the entrance, the cask container or sepulcher that Jesse was allegedly stored in was on the left wall, all the way at the end on the second row. The number on it was 16. The mortician assisting them looked at his chart to be certain that it matched the number the three men stood in front of before pulling the metal slab out. Laquez closed his eyes and did not open them until it was fully out. What he caught sight of was even more disturbing than anything he could have expected. He stared, taking in the whole scene, distraught by what he saw. Absolutely nothing. He stared at the blank metal slab for about forty-five seconds before he looked up and saw Yacub, Dyvee, and the mortician staring at him with expectant eyes. Sympathy was on the face of Dyvee, curious indifference on the face of the mortician, and utter sadness on Yacub’s with tears glistened in his eyes. Laquez looked back into each man’s face, taking the time to analyze what was upon them. They all seemed to be aware of something that he truly was not. He began to get upset, not because of the stares, but because of the whole situation. “What’s this?” he blurted, agitated. “Some type of joke?” “What?” Dyvee said, expression going from sympathetic to confusion. “There’s nothing there!” Laquez pointed out with all sincerity. “Huh?” Yacub said, looking back at the slab to ensure that there was indeed a body on it. “You mean…you don’t see Jesse?” Dyvee said delicately, for he believed that Laquez’s mental state was extremely fragile at this point. “There’s just a metal slab,” Laquez reiterated frankly. “There’s no body on it.”

“Laquez,” Dyvee affirmed, “she’s right there…in front of you.” He looked around at everyone present. “We all see her.” All the men muttered in agreement, except Laquez, who watched them nodding, with suspicion in his heart. “You guys are messing with me, right?” he asked, jittery. “Do you think I would do something like that?” Dyvee yelled with frustration. “Do you really think we would fuck with you like that? Jesus Christ, Laquez…,” he screamed as he grabbed his friend’s hand and forced him to touch the body. “She’s right here. Do you feel her cold flesh?” The truth of the matter was he could not. All he felt was the cold steel of the bare metal slab. There was no body, and no matter how hard he tried to concentrate or visualize what everyone else seemed to already see, he saw nothing. When he looked up at their expectant faces, he couldn’t reveal to them the truth that he saw no body, let alone Jesse. They were already giving him that look the civilians give someone they feel is disconnected, so to speak. He had to save face. Taking a few steps back from the slab, he nodded in compliance, then looked directly at Dyvee. “I’m ready to leave.” They left the hospital immediately after that. When they got outside, the three men walked to the parking lot together. They were silent until they got there. “What are you going to do from here?” Dyvee asked, worried. “Go home,” Laquez replied, as if drained. “Get some sleep.” “You sure you don’t want some company?” Yacub added, ive. “This is a tough time.” “Nah! I’m cool…really.” “You sure?” Dyvee urged. “Positive…You guys don’t worry about me. I’m cool. I just need some time to let this all settle in. But I’ll be fine. I’ll give you guys a call tomorrow. That’s my

word.” With that said, he gave both men a hug, then walked to his Camaro. He got in, started up the car, and drove out of the parking lot, leaving Yacub and Dyvee staring sadly after him. Laquez rode home in silence. His mind was completely cluttered with the day’s events. He could not make sense out of anything. He went over the alleged facts, playing them several times over in his head. What he came up with was one, he had not imagined Dyvee at his house last night. Two, he couldn’t be more certain that he was with Jesse at the office earlier today. Three, Dyvee, Yacub, and that mortician had definitely been under the impression that Jesse was killed, and currently lying on a metal slab, in a dark container marked 16. Four, he clearly saw that there was no body on the slab. And five, he was now at the point where he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. He began to replay the conversation he believed he had with Jesse this morning. She had attempted to rationalize his delusions. She believed he had some ability of some kind to witness not only this reality, but also alternate ones as well. But when it came to the two realms crossing, or intermingling, she was just as clueless as he was. He then began to recall how his employees watched and stared at him when he ed through the reception area, and when he had called the secretary asking for Jesse. He ed that she had said Jesse was gone. There was something in her voice. Sorrow. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t picked up on it then. Could it mean what he thought it meant? That everyone in his office, including the new secretary, knew she was killed? Of course! he thought suddenly. It would’ve been on the news. He went numb then. He didn’t know whether to cry, be angry, throw a fit, or just blank out. He was more confused than anything else. If he cried, he felt he’d be giving credence to a reality he didn’t care to entertain. He had been with Jesse this morning. No matter what anyone else said, he believed that with all his heart, and as long as he felt certain that she was alive, then goddamn it, she was. All he needed was confirmation, her voice, anything to prove she was present on this plane of existence.

He grabbed his cell phone and dialed her number. He wasn’t surprised when he got no answer from either line. He ended the call and tossed the cell phone on the enger seat, where it was previously. He felt so detached, as if he were in a foreign world, alone, where everything was confusion and chaos. Everything that he once believed to be real was an illusion. And the illusion was becoming the reality. In a way, that realization helped him to better cope with things. His reality had become so twisted, he couldn’t figure what emotion pertained to what situation. Should he be sad for his mother? No, because she was probably still alive. Should he be sad for himself? Absolutely, because he, and he alone, was the one totally disconnected and out of the loop of the rest of the world. He didn’t know where his life would or should go from there. Or if he should care, or even be concerned. Maybe he, himself, didn’t really exist. Maybe his life didn’t make sense anymore because he had crossed over somehow, without even knowing. Perhaps he had found hell, and would now dwell in it…for eternity? If he found that to be the case, he decided that he would kill himself, or do his best attempting to accomplish the deed. He became tired of thinking at that point. He needed a distraction. He hit the power button on his stereo and cranked up the volume. Amy Lee from the group Evanescence vocalized as the band kept the beat. Laquez listened intently to her lyrics, nodding along as she sung. And for the moment at least, he felt that someone else could relate to his dilemma. And just for that moment, he didn’t feel so alone.

Chapter

21

Later that night, Laquez was sitting in his kitchen nursing a glass of ginger ale, in deep contemplation, when his home phone rang. He looked at it as it rang for a while, debating on whether or not he should answer it. He wasn’t quite sure he could handle another delusion, or stomach any more bad news. He assumed it was Dyvee or Yacub checking on him. If that was the case and he didn’t answer, they would be banging his door down within minutes. He moved toward the phone and answered it. “Hello.” There was no reply. “Hello.” Again, no answer. Then the line clicked dead. He returned to the kitchen and perched on the stool he sat in prior to the phone call. He was just sinking back into thought when he heard a knock at the door. The doorbell began to ring insistently. He looked at his watch, 9:55 p.m. He was sure it was one of his close friends, if not both of them. He got up and answered the door. Who he found there totally surprised and intimidated him. She stood there with tears flowing down her face. She held her pocketbook close to her abdomen. She was distraught, full of sorrow mixed with something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “Can I come in please?” she asked timidly. Without a word, he stepped aside. She walked into the house and went straight into the entertainment area. She sat in one of the leather armchairs. She still clutched her pocketbook tightly. She looked around the area as if seeing it for the first time. She knew the house as good as Laquez, having spent many days and nights there with him while they were committed. The reality was that she had not been there in quite a while. She was looking to see if anything had changed.

It hadn’t. Laquez ed her in that room but did not sit down. He was edgy and put out by her presence. Add her demeanor to the equation, it was a disaster waiting to happen. He was suspicious. He still hadn’t figured out why she was there. He looked at her as he stood tensely. The tension was thick. She sensed it and attempted to ease it a bit. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink? God knows I can use one. And I know I look all kinds of stressed.” He eyed her skeptically. She looked drained, yet she was still gorgeous. Her eyes were puffy from crying. It added to her disposition. He wasn’t sure if he could let his guard down or not, but he would certainly make her a drink. He knew what she wanted already: a martini with two olives. He walked to the bar and began preparing her drink. “I see the place hasn’t changed, since I last seen it.” “Don’t have any reason to change it,” he commented, offish. “Oh, I heard about your secretary too. That’s too bad. Sorry.” She seemed sincere. That struck a chord. He looked at her with scrutiny. Was Jesse the reason she was there? he thought. Had she found out about them? He doubted it but was prepared for the unexpected. The fact that she had heard of her death was confirmation he didn’t want. Jesse was indeed dead, and he was the only one who thought otherwise. “You saw it on the news?” he asked, unduly curious. “Mm hmm. It’s a shame. She was so young.” “Wrong place, wrong time.” “Yeah.” She hesitated coyly. “I heard about your mom too. You could have told

me, you know? We did meet a few times.” “I apologize. I have had a lot on my plate lately.” He finished the drink and brought it over to her. He didn’t make one for himself. “Thought you were going to me for one?” She referred to her drink. “I’m sure you could use one too. You’ve gone through some shit.” She sipped her drink. “I have,” he agreed, solemn. “But a drink would do nothing to ease my pain.” He wasn’t comfortable enough to have a drink while she was there. He needed to be alert. Tasa was like a venomous viper. If she struck, it would be deadly. If she had a hidden agenda, it would be revealed soon. “You never know.” She offered then took a deep gulp. “I know I’m already starting to feel better.” “Which brings me to ask you…what’s going on? Why this unexpected pop-up?” She sipped her drink then looked up at him. There was a malicious twinkle in her eye, but it vanished an instant later. “Do you really need me to answer that question?” “Yes. Otherwise this is disturbing.” “Now why would you say that?” she said, teasing. “Well, for starters, the last time I saw you, you threatened to kill me. Now, here you are, popping up at my house with tears in your eyes. If that’s not a disturbing situation…” He let that linger. She smiled cynically. “I didn’t threaten to kill you. I only said I’d kill you before I allowed you to be happy.” “How is that better?” She just glared at him from behind her martini glass.

“I guess the question is should I feel threatened?” he reiterated. “Should you?” “You tell me.” “You aren’t in any danger, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” “Why? Because I’m not happy?” “I can’t believe you’re acting so cold towards me. Do you really think I’d kill you for being happy?” “What about being in love?” he quizzed, fretful. “Depends on who you’re in love with.” “Anyone but you.” She tensed, and her eyes turned cold with hatred, but it was so quick that he wasn’t even sure that he saw it, or just imagined her reaction. Her face was calm presently. “Laquez, why are you so bitter with me?” She felt grief. “All I ever did was love you. What was wrong with that?” “Please, Tasa,” he said defensively, “don’t make this about me. I have nothing against you. I would love to be on good with you, on friendship . But I won’t lie to you and tell you I’m in love with you. Especially when I’m in love with someone else.” He thought about that last sentence and wondered if he should have used the past tense. Upon searching his heart, he found his words well-placed. Plus, to speak in the past tense regarding Jesse was still way too hurtful. “How do you know you’re in love?” she snapped suddenly. “How do you?” That was a hard blow. She dropped her head and began focusing on her drink. She took sips until the drink was finished, all the while remaining silent. She

held the empty glass out to Laquez. “Can I have another?” He walked over, gently took her glass, and headed back to the bar. He replenished her drink and brought it over to her. She began sipping it immediately. He backed up a few feet and put his hands on his hips with impatience. She became agitated. “Are you just going to stand over there like that? Like I’m some psycho who can’t be trusted?” “Tasa,” Laquez said firmly, “why are you here.” “I thought that was pretty obvious.” “Well, it’s not. So, could you be specific?” He wiped his face with his hand, annoyed. “Just keep in mind that I’m going through a real rough patch right now, which you’re certainly aware of. You came here wanting something I may not be able to give you. You’re distressed, and you want comfort from someone who needs comfort, not to mention clarity himself.” “Then let me comfort you,” she blurted, archaic. “Tasa…I’m not sure why you’re here.” She glared wickedly, but swiftly the wickedness dissolved into humility. “You said a minute ago that you wanted us to be on good …to be friends. Well, I can sure use a friend now.” Her eyes misted, and a single tear fell, rolling down her cheek. “Can you be my friend, Laquez?” Laquez genuinely felt his heart go out to her then. He didn’t fall in love with her, that he would never do, but he truly pitied her. What harm was there in comforting her, in lending her his ear? He couldn’t see any. At that point, his guard was down, and he became more relaxed. He decided that he’d be a gracious host and do his best to ease her suffering. “I’m sorry Tasa,” he said with honesty. “I’ve been…out of it lately. Please excuse my rudeness.”

She nodded as she wiped her tears away. “I’ll just grab myself a drink. Might as well you after all, huh?” She smiled at him, composed. He was back a minute later, with his own drink in hand. He took the chair opposite her before taking a good swig. He sighed with relief as it went down. “Now that’s more like it,” she said, her mood perking up. For the next two hours, they talked, reminiscing mostly about the good times they used to have. Everything was calm, tranquil. The mood was positive and their conversation high-spirited. Tasa filled Laquez in on the last few days of her life, which consisted mostly of partying and weeping. She expressed to him that no matter how hard she tried, she could not get over him, and the farthest she went was a dinner, a drink, and quick peck on the cheek with any other man. It wasn’t that the guys weren’t willing, overanxious to make her top priority. It was she that declined to take things any further. She claimed it was her love for Laquez that kept her from entertaining any other man. He had been her last. And she was bent on keeping it that way. Laquez, on the other hand, told her simply about his mother’s death and the ceremony. He also told her vaguely about how he had been under so much stress that at times he had trouble distinguishing reality from illusion. She seemed a bit concerned, but he assured her that it was just a moment which would once his mind settled down. And he informed her that that’s what he was attempting to do before she showed up. Things were going so smoothly. Everything seemed so normal that Laquez had begun to feel complacent. His stress level decreased substantially. He was actually feeling jovial. Of course, the alcohol had its part in that, but he was thankful nonetheless, thankful for the momentary reprieve from his dilemma. And thankful for Tasa’s company. Tasa had just finished her fourth martini. She asked for another, and when she saw that Laquez was hesitant, concerned about her intoxication level and not wanting her to get too drunk that she couldn’t drive home, which he partially believed was her intent, she promised him that she was only nice, not drunk, and that this would be her last.

Before he complied, he had her prove her sobriety by putting both arms out to the side, horizontally, parallel to the floor and touching the tip of her nose with each finger twice. She felt silly doing it, but they both got a good laugh out of the situation. It turned out that she was just tipsy, which was surprising because he hadn’t known her to be such a drinker. Her tolerance had greatly improved over the last few days. It proved that she had certainly been honest about partying excessively this week. Laquez walked over and took her glass. She stared at him flirtatiously as he did so. He then walked to the bar, made her another martini, and returned, offering the glass to her. Instead of taking the drink, she just stared at his hand with an amused smirk. A moment later, a chuckle escaped her. “Very funny!” she said, flirting. “My drinks are imaginary now?” Laquez looked at her befuddled. “Huh?” he mouthed, oddly. “Where’s my drink, silly?” Laquez looked at his hand and saw that it was empty. Yet, he specifically recalled taking the glass from her and making her another drink. This was exactly like the cognac incident days prior. And when he noticed her extended arm, he saw that she was offering him her empty glass. “Can you bring me a real drink now?” she said, giddy. He did not say what was on his mind. Instead, he took the glass carefully from her and brought it to the bar and prepared her drink. When he returned, offering her the drink, this time she took it and sipped it lightly. “That’s better,” she said after swallowing. He stood there for a moment, gazing at her with a perplexed expression on his face. She looked up at him smiling awkwardly. “Something wrong?” “Um…,” he stammered. “When I went to make that drink a second ago…what

do you happening?” “What do you mean?” she asked uncertainly. “When I went to make you the drink, and I came back empty-handed…what did you perceive?” She thought about it a minute then smiled. “Well…,” she began girlishly. “You got up…walked up to me. When I offered you my glass, you turned away and walked to the bar. I’m not sure what you were doing over there, but it looked like you were pouring a drink. I figured you was getting me a new glass.” When she saw his face, it told her that he seemed to have a different outlook on what occurred. “Why? What do you believe you did?” “Truthfully…I could’ve sworn I took the glass from you, made the drink, and returned with it in my hand.” His mind began working rapidly. He thought of what Jesse had said, about the realms crossing. “How could that be?” “Huh?” she questioned. “Nothing,” he said dismissively. “I’ve been experiencing a lot of absent moments like that…where I thought…No, I swore I did something other than what I obviously had. And I can’t figure out what it is that’s happening to me.” Tasa took a couple more sips from her glass, then set it down on the coaster on the table that was positioned on the side of the chair she sat in. She got up and strode sensually toward Laquez. When she got close enough, she wrapped her arms around him and melted into him. “What you need…,” she began in an erotic whisper, so close to his earlobe that her lips brushed against it every time she spoke. It sent erotic shivers through his body. “Is a little attention. And I know exactly what you need to release that tension.” She slowly began to lick and suck his ear, then his neck. His body responded even though his mind told him not to. It was wrong, but he found himself quickly overcome by the moment. He wanted her so badly, not just because she was hot and he was vulnerable due to stress, but also because he knew that she knew exactly what he liked and had mastered pleasing him.

If he gave in, he would not only be jeopardizing what he now believed could be a truly legit friendship, but he would also be tempting a woman who wanted what she wanted. She wanted to be loved, to be in love. And she wanted him to reciprocate those feelings. She did not want to be screwed. He knew that her emotions were too powerful, her longing compelling. If he slept with her now and did not pledge his undying love for her after, he knew there would be dire consequences, which could even become deadly. Before the moment got away from him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and attempted to push her gently away. She held fast and became more aggressive with her es. She held him tighter and pressed harder against his erection, letting her tongue work diligently, sliding it up and down his neck and slithering it in and out of his ear. “You want me,” she said between sucks. “Just like I want you. We both…need this.” Laquez could not disagree that he did want her. He was even considering the fact that he may need this. But the consequences were too great, and besides, he still loved Jesse. “Tasa…no,” he said, squirming, while he pushed her back. “Tasa…Tasa…stop… I’m serious.” She became more aggressive, more adamant. She began fondling his erection through his pants. “Tasa…stop. It’s not right. This isn’t what you want.” Her fingers began to work at his button, his zipper. That’s when he shoved her with force that sent her stumbling a few paces, but not enough to fall. “Nooo!” he shouted assertively. The look of disgust, frustration, and rage that she gave him, in that instant, was enough to truly make him afraid, and motivate his fight-or-flight mechanism. He stood there, in high alert, waiting for the storm to hit. Tasa stared back at him, her expression becoming fiercer by the second. “You bastard!” she spat with venomous anger. “How dare you shove me away like I’m some two-bit whore?” “Tasa…,” Laquez said, timid, “I told you to stop. You wouldn’t. I’m sorry I shoved you, but you were getting carried away.”

“So what…You’re too good? I’m not worthy to be fucked by you anymore? Am I that pathetic in your opinion? Too screwed up for your taste?” “It’s nothing like that Tasa, and you know it. Things were getting out of hand. And I know you didn’t want—” He stopped abruptly. He didn’t want to incite her any further. “Didn’t want what, Laquez? To just be fucked? Is that it?” “In harsher …yes?” “Because you don’t want to lead me on?” “That’s probably it.” “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” “It means that I’m not sure of anything anymore. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. Hell…I could wake up tomorrow and find that you never really existed. It’s happened once already…I’ll tell you that.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” she screamed, becoming inflamed. “Are you saying that I’m an illusion to you…a fucking fragment of your stupid imagination?” “Possibly?” “That I don’t exist to you?” “Now you’re getting the picture.” Her eyes instantly flooded with tears, and she grabbed her pocketbook. Her hand disappeared into it. When she looked up, there was severe sadness and sorrow in her eyes, but there was also that glint of emotion that Laquez could not identify earlier, but noticed. When her hand came out of the pocketbook, wielding a chrome shiny object, he realized in that instant what that glint had been. Intent to murder. Once the gun was out, she held it with both shaky hands in a shooter’s stance.

The .38 Special’s barrel was aimed at his chest, but it kept wavering due to her emotional state. She was no marksman, being that she’d never even held a gun, let alone pointed it at anything until today, which made the circumstances extremely dangerous. Laquez looked from her face to the gun that was aimed at him. And although he should’ve felt fear for his life, he felt only anguish. Here he was, faced with another situation that appeared to be real, but could very well all be in his head. He hated how unbalanced his life had turned out to be. On the one hand, if this was not real, then no matter the outcome, in the next moment, it would be like it never occurred. But if it was real and he didn’t handle this delicate situation with the caution and seriousness it deserved, he could be dead come morning. For real. He looked Tasa in her eyes and saw a hurt so deep and so vivid that he decided that this couldn’t really be happening. He decided that no one could hurt as she was right now, over circumstances that neither of them had control of. There was no way he was ready to accept that someone he had grown so close to over the years, even if it never transcended to true love, could be standing in his living room aiming a gun at his chest, with the intention of pulling the trigger. He would not accept that he had brought her a drink but hadn’t, nor would he accept that he would be killed tonight in a crime of ion. So, he wasn’t surprised at the turn of events, which took place in consequence of his reaction. “You’re not really here, Tasa. That gun’s not real. You’re not real. And tomorrow I’m going to call you and you’re going to think I’m crazy when I tell you what happened tonight. You’ll see how screwed up my head really is.” She glared at him, awed, shocked, and with surprise in her eyes. She couldn’t believe that he had the gall to taunt her while she held his life in her hands. “So go ahead…shoot. You’ll see how much of an illusion you really are.” That’s when he heard it, one single gunshot. At the same time, he felt the bullet punch into his flesh, between his left shoulder and his pecs, which knocked him back four steps. He looked down at the spot where the bullet hit, and he saw the blood spreading rapidly, pooling through his shirt. His left arm fell numb to his side and began to jerk.

When he looked back up, he saw a smoking gun, and beyond the smoke screen, he saw Tasa’s startled eyes. She stared in disbelief. Her mouth was open, forming an O. The gun in her hand was trembling outrageously. Laquez took two staggering steps toward her, and she retreated two shaky steps back. Again, they eyed each other, surprise written all over both of their faces. There was dread on Tasa’s face, apprehension on Laquez’s. He put his right hand to the wound then removed it, and saw the blood on his fingers. He smiled then, catching Tasa off guard, for that was the last thing she expected him to do. “It appears…that you shot me. But it’s an illusion. You didn’t really shoot me. You’re not really here. Only in this moment.” Those words spooked Tasa on such a level that she dropped the gun and dashed for the door and out, without looking back or even bothering to close it behind her, leaving Laquez there bleeding. After she ran away, still smiling, Laquez stumbled over to his phone. He dialed Dyvee’s number. The blood that flowed from him drained his strength. He felt hazy as if in a dream state. He heard Dyvee’s line ringing. On the third ring, he answered. “Hey, Laquez.” “Hey, cous,” Laquez said as if drugged. His consciousness weaned in and out. “What’s up bro?” “I’m in trouble.” He paused as he faded out then back in. “I’ve been shot.” He fell over, leaving Dyvee screaming hysterically on the line. Darkness claimed him before he hit the floor.

Chapter

22

Laquez awoke to the sound of a heart monitor beeping. Soft light glowed above his head. An IV was sticking out of his arm. His shoulder and left pectoral were bandaged, and he was thirsty as hell. It took a minute for his eyes to fully adjust to the lighting. Once they did, he noticed he wasn’t alone in the room. To his right by the door entrance, he saw Dyvee talking to the doctor. To his left, he saw Yacub in the chair beside his bed. His head was sagged down, and his hands covered his face. Laquez attempted to reach out to Yacub, but he felt a jolt of pain. He cringed. That got Yacub’s attention, who moved in closer to his friend. “Relax.” Yacub coaxed. “You’re all right. You’re at the hospital.” He looked toward the entrance where Dyvee was located. “Dyvee, Doctor, he’s awake.” Dyvee and the doctor hastily moved over to Laquez. When they got there, Laquez signaled that he needed something to drink. Yacub obliged. He grabbed the container and a cup and poured him some water. Laquez gulped down that cup along with two more before his thirst was sated. The doctor was ready to talk to him. “Hello, Mr. Fortell,” he said formally. “I’m Dr. John Debuis. You’re at Mercy Hospital where you were treated for a single gunshot wound to the left pectoral and shoulder area. The bullet entered but did not do any real damage. It exited through the left deltoids, but again…there was no major damage. “So in other words,” Laquez said hoarsely, “I’ll live?” “Most certainly. You should be fine to check out tomorrow. I’ll subscribe something for the pain then.” He looked to Dyvee and Yacub. “And if there are no further questions I’ll leave you three to talk.” “Thanks, Doctor,” Dyvee said as they shook hands. The doctor left and Dyvee

turned to Laquez. “Now what the hell happened?” Laquez looked at him and smiled oddly. “I was hoping you could tell me.” “Laquez, I’m serious!” His temper flared. “Someone tried to kill you, who was it?” “No one tried to kill me because nothing really happened.” “Dyvee glared at him, reeling. “You’re scaring me cous.” “How do you think I feel?” Laquez quipped. “This is serious, goddamn it!” Dyvee retorted. “There was a .38 Special in your living room. How do you think it got there?” “I know how it got there, but it wasn’t really there.” “Laquez, did you shoot yourself?” Dyvee yelled worriedly. “Nope. It wasn’t me.” “Then who? Whose prints are we going to find on that gun?” “Oh, probably Tasa’s. But then again, she probably doesn’t exist anymore.” “Laquez, stop with this bullshit. Did Tasa really try to kill you?” Laquez thought about the question. “Yes, she did. But only in that moment of reality.” “Laquez, I need you to focus. Then I want you to tell me, in detail, what happened between you and Tasa. And is she safe?” “Before I do that, I have to tell you the whole story. Everything. Starting from the beginning, my first break in reality. But you both have to promise to keep open minds and to let me finish. ’Cause I’ll tell you right now…it’s a whopper.” Laquez told them everything, from start to finish. When he was done, both men were speechless. Laquez allowed it all to sink in. He really wanted them to have

full comprehension of his situation. That was the only way the three of them could figure out what to do about it. The silence was finally broken by Dyvee. “You know, Laquez…if it wasn’t you telling me all this, I would have pushed to have you committed.” “But?” “I believe you. I just ain’t sure if all of it isn’t just in your head. Or, you really have some strange ability to experience alternate realities.” “I agree,” Yacub added. “But I’m worried for you. Apparently, this could be dangerous. Especially if your perception of reality is all fuzzy. You could believe you’re in a safe predicament, all the while you could be in serious peril.” “Yeah,” Dyvee concurred. “That’s what worries me too. More so when I consider the condition you were in a little while ago. You kept saying that you didn’t really get shot, that it wasn’t real. But the reality is you got shot tonight. Whether you believe it or not.” “I don’t think you should be alone when you’re released,” Yacub pointed out. “Not until we figure this thing out.” “He’s right Laquez. I honestly think you should seek some professional help.” “What? Like a psychiatrist?” “Maybe,” Dyvee affirmed. “You never know, maybe you could get some answers that way.” Laquez had no quarrel about seeking help. “Sounds reasonable,” he conceded. “But meanwhile, do me a solid?” “Anything.” “Leave Tasa alone.” “What?” Dyvee yelled discontent. “I’m serious. I don’t want her arrested, charged, or even confronted. She’s going

through enough.” “But she’s dangerous Laquez,” Yacub reminded. “She could try again.” “I doubt it.” “I’m sure you doubted she’d shoot you this time too. But she did.” “That was my fault though. I didn’t take her seriously. Besides, she’s no killer. She was just as shocked as me when it happened, even more so. She dropped the gun and ran. That’s not something a dangerous person would do. I’m confident she’s the least of my worries.” “She broke the law Laquez.” Dyvee cut in. “Attempted murder, assault with a dangerous weapon. The crime was premeditated. She was in possession of a firearm and ammunition without an FID card. She discharged a weapon without a license to do so. Need I go on?” “Leave her alone!” Laquez demanded. “I mean it. Please? I’m asking you from my heart. Let her be?” Dyvee looked at him, reluctant. “All right man. You’re lucky I love you.” “Thanks bro. I love you too, man.” “But if she tries again…,” Dyvee warned. “She won’t. Trust me.” “All right Laquez. It’s your life on the line. that?” “I understand,” he said graciously. “And I also need you to go to my house, grab me some fresh gear. It’s all upstairs in the master bedroom. I don’t care which sweat suit you chose, just grab underwear, socks, T-shirt, and some sneakers with it. And bring my Via Cross here so that when I’m released I can drive myself home. Just let me know where you park it.” “You got it cous,” Dyvee said, pliant. “Anything else?” Yacub offered.

Laquez thought about it then shook his head. “No, that’s about it. I’m kinda tired now. I just want to sleep.” “So we’ll leave you to it,” Yacub said and patted him on his leg and stood to leave. Dyvee followed suit. “I’ll call you once I dropped the vehicle off. I’ll let you know where it’s parked,” Dyvee assured. “Get some rest.” “I will,” Laquez said then yawned. “And thanks guys…for listening to me and understanding.” “Don’t mention it,” Yacub shot back. Both men left the room. Laquez fell asleep before they even left the building. He slept fitfully, without duress. But Yacub and Dyvee, however, were not at all eased. They were stressed and extremely worried about their friend. Although they seemed to appear to believe and understand and to ingest Laquez’s story, the truth was they were highly unnerved. They had trouble accepting what he told them. They believed he snapped due to all the recent hurtful events that occurred one after the next. He was unstable. And they would see to it that he got the professional help he so needed.

Chapter

23

At around 1:15 p.m. the next day, Laquez signed his release papers and was on his way out of the hospital. He jumped in his Via Cross. His shoulder and left chest were sore, but he still felt pretty good. He pulled out of the parking lot heading for home. As he drove, the most prominent thing occupying his mind was Tasa. She had a significant place in his thoughts being that she had shot him the other night. But she wasn’t the only thing on his mind. He felt sorry for her. True. She had been miserable ever since their breakup. In her heart and mind, she truly believed she loved him. And wanted him to love her back. Only it didn’t turn out that way. The look in her eyes when he stated that she was an illusion, that she didn’t even exist was what stained his mind the most. At the time when he said it, he was being honest. She just wasn’t aware of his perspective. She didn’t know what he’d been experiencing, so she took it to mean she was insignificant and her existence, to him, had been meaningless from the start. I would have shot me too, He thought drably. He was glad that he had thought ahead and told Dyvee to leave her alone. If he allowed her to be arrested and prosecuted for something that he provoked, he would be less than scum on the street as far as morale was concerned. All that was left for him to do was call her and clarify things, to let her know she was not in any trouble and he wanted to apologize. The thing was judging by how petrified she was when he last saw her, he was pretty sure she would not answer and was probably heading out of the country to lie low somewhere. But he still had to call, even if just to leave a message. He dialed her number. As he expected, he only got her voice mail.

“Yeah. Yeah. You know who you reached…the one and only. If you got my voice mail, obviously I’m busy. Sooo…call back. Unless this is Laquez, I’ll call you.” That was the first time he’d ever heard her message recording. It showed how important he was to her. He was truly touched. She really did love him. He wished he felt the same. “Hey, Tasa. It’s me…Laquez. When you hear this message, call me. I want you to know that I’m sorry. This is all my fault. Do not blame yourself. I understand why you did it. My head is kinda screwed up now…Weird things are happening in my life. But I don’t want you to worry. You’re not in any trouble. There will be no charges pressed, and you won’t even be questioned about this. I just wanted you to know that. And I…” He truly wanted to tell her he loved her, but he knew it would be a bad idea. He did love her but not the way she desired. He said what came to mind next. “I care about you…a lot.” He ended the call, yet he wasn’t quite satisfied. He wanted to do something more substantial than leaving a message. The best way to do that was to call her mother. She picked up on the second ring. “Hello.” “Bella?” “Yes,” she said uncertainly. “It’s me, Laquez.” “Oh, hey Laquez.” Her tone lightened. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. Does this mean you and Tasa are back together?” He so wished he could answer affirmatively. “Not exactly…but I really need to speak with her. Is she around?” “No, no. Actually I haven’t heard from her for about a week now. If she doesn’t get around to me soon, I may have to file a missing person’s report.” There was humor in her comment.

“Ha ha ha!” Laquez laughed forcefully. “I doubt that would be necessary Bella. I saw her yesterday.” “Okay. That’s a relief.” “I really called to give you a message for her, in case she calls or stops by in the next day or so.” “What is it sweetie?” “Just tell her I’m sorry ’bout how things have been lately. And that she has nothing to worry about, as far as last night goes. She’ll understand.” “I don’t think I can all of that. You sure you just don’t want to leave her a voice mail?” “I already did. I feel you’ll probably hear from her first. “Well, okay then.” “Thanks Bella. Have a wonderful day.” “You too.” Laquez hung up the phone, feeling much better about things. Somehow, he felt that would get her attention more than the voice mail he left. Most people always call Mom when things seem crazy or they’re in trouble. And she certainly felt she was in trouble. He was minutes away from his home when he decided that he wasn’t ready to go there yet. He had too much on his mind to be indoors. He thought better while driving. He already knew the route he would take, the most scenic, where he’d encounter the least amount of traffic. In the end, if he couldn’t solve his dilemma, at least he would enjoy that moment of serenity. He needed a break from this anathema.

Chapter

24

The ride had been a magnificent idea. Presently he felt so at ease, more relaxed than he felt in a long while. When he first began driving, he took to the back roads. While he drove, his mind was burdened with thought after thought with no solutions, no justifications, just clutter and confusion. However, the more he drove and the further out he got, his mind began to clear until he was no longer thinking. His mind went blank. He was just existing in the present moment, in the now. He glanced at the scenery but did not focus on any specific sights. He was in bliss because he felt nothing, nor expected anything. He was simply calm, focused on the motion of the vehicle and the direction he was steering it in. He chose the roads at random, allowing them to take him where they may. It felt good to let go, to be controlled rather than in control, to not think or worry, but to simply be. He couldn’t believe that up until this point, a piece of mind this sublime existed. He was so in tune to nothingness, so detached from everything. He did not want the experience to end. But all moments do, and must end. He had just driven down another back road when he became aware of a vehicle approaching. He noticed first the glint of light that reflected off the metal hood of the oncoming vehicle. That was what initially caught his attention and caused him to focus more intently on the approaching object. The vehicle appeared to be gaining momentum, for it was flying toward him. Instinctively he became alarmed, his tranquil, neutral state diminishing as the car neared. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he was so alarmed. He was severely uptight and did not like how the vehicle was accelerating. He could sense the intent involved; this wasn’t just a random occurrence. The intent became clear when the vehicle got within a recognizable distance,

where Laquez could make out the details. By then it was too late. The gold Regal was too close to be evaded. From the enger side window, a man popped out wielding an automatic weapon. He pointed it right at Laquez’s windshield and let off a round. “Tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat!” The bullets decorated the windshield, spiderwebbing it in various places. Most of the damage was on the driver’s side, making visibility nearly impossible. In a panic, he pulled hard on the steering wheel, left, which would usually be a mistake. Yet, in this instance, it served to be useful. Both cars collided; the sound of wreckage was intense. Laquez was doing 45 miles per hour when the vehicles impacted. Since his car was the heaviest and sturdier of the two, the gold Regal sustained a substantial amount of damage. When the grills of both vehicles met, the Regal’s front end was caved in so severely, it seemed it never had a hood. The rear of the car lifted up off the ground, about six feet, and spun slightly to the left before crashing back down. The enger of the Regal hit the frame of the window with such force that his spine snapped in half. He fell out of the vehicle and hit the pavement like a boneless rag doll, face-first. His chest and arms splayed on the concrete, as his legs folded over the upper half of his body. The driver was ejected, smashing headfirst through the Regal’s windshield. He then hit Laquez’s windshield, shattering it even worse than the bullets had, causing it to sag inward from the weight of the dead body that now rested on it. Upon impact, the Via Cross lifted up from its rear a few inches, and spun to the right so that the vehicle blocked the road horizontally. The airbag inflated so suddenly and with such force that when it struck Laquez’s face, it knocked his head back and to the side, causing it to smack against the window frame. He was knocked unconscious instantly.

*****

Laquez opened his eyes and felt a shock of pain course through his skull and settle at the base of his head. His vision was blurred, but the more he blinked, the clearer things became. He was dazed, cloudy, but that, too, was fading as he began to move. He put his hand to the back of his head where the pain was more severe. He felt no wetness; therefore, he was not bleeding, but there was a huge knot located in that area. His shoulder and chest wound hurt but not as much as his head. He focused on his surroundings. He noticed the splintered windshield. He could barely see through it. He ed what had occurred. He reached for his cell phone. He needed to call Dyvee. He noticed it was not on the enger seat. He looked on the floor. He found it there. He picked it up and noticed it was busted. The impact from the crash must have damaged it. He was in the middle of nowhere with a broke cell, and no means of transportation. He got out of the vehicle, not because he wanted to, but to assess the damage. As he did, he was struck by an even more horrifying realization. The gold Regal was gone, vanished as if it had never been there. Upon further inspection, Laquez saw that the front grill of the Via Cross had been smashed in, but not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. He had to consider if he was having another one of his episodes. It seemed more likely that he was, for where was the other vehicle? How could it be gone? Especially when it sustained more damage than his Via Cross. The enger and driver were most certainly killed, yet there were no bodies. Laquez scanned the road for signs of an accident. He saw them instantly. He spotted shattered glass and a headlight that did not belong to his vehicle. He looked at his vehicle; the grill was surely busted out, the windshield sunk in, sprinkled with bullet holes. Was this a hallucination? he thought. He didn’t believe it.

He surveyed the area, ing that he had decided to take a drive. How peaceful it was up until this point. He wasn’t sure how far out in the middle of nowhere he was. He had no way to call for help. He couldn’t begin to fathom how the gold Regal found him way out here. Talk about a creepy revelation. Who were those guys? They had the ability to know things even before their victims did. It was all so dramatically uncanny. Even more significant, they were gone when they should be dead and their car totaled. It did not add up or make sense whatsoever. It was highly illogical, irrational, and unreasonable. But so were all the recent events. Nothing was real anymore. He couldn’t trust his reality any longer. He felt deranged, crazy. Or was he? He didn’t feel loony at all. He felt afraid. He looked at his vehicle once more, then searched under the Via Cross looking for wreckage. There was nothing. That meant it could possibly still be in running condition. When he got back into the vehicle he cranked the key in the ignition, and the engine turned over first try. It idled smoothly. That was certainly fortunate for Laquez. If he drove cautiously, with his hazards on, staring intently through the shattered windshield, he would at least make it to civilization. He backed the vehicle up slowly, turning the wheel until the SUV was no longer blocking the road, then he put it in drive. He started off at a steady twenty-five miles per hour. A few minutes later, he accelerated up to thirty miles per hour. He was anxious to get to a public area for two reasons. The first being he feared that if he didn’t hurry up and get to safety, the gold Regal would make its appearance again. And two, he wanted to Dyvee and tell him what happened. He felt that at such a slow pace he was a magnet for danger. What worked in his benefit was that the road was deserted. It gave him incentive to accelerate another ten miles per hour.

He looked at his watch and saw that it was 3:56 p.m. It was later than he thought it was. He believed that Yacub and Dyvee were worried sick, considering all that had happened, juxtaposed with the fact that his cell was now busted and they could not reach him. It made him even more anxious, and he accelerated another ten miles per hour without fully being aware of it. Most of his attention was directed at the splintered windshield. A fraction of it was focused on the steering wheel, which he noticed was normal. An airbag should have been hanging out of it. He was positive it had deployed during the collision. Yet, there it was, neatly stored away within the steering wheel. It was not possible. The grill of the Via Cross was solid proof that there was indeed impact. The air bag would have automatically been deployed. The bump on his head signified it deployed, for it was what caused his head to jolt back and hit the window frame. His mind became preoccupied. His focus was more on the air bag scenario than on trying to see through the windshield. The cracks gave him a multi-optical view, like seeing through the lens of a fly or spider rather than a human. It was then that he struck a pole, full force at fifty miles per hour. The grill of the Via Cross smashed in, wrapping around the pole and the air bag deployed for what seemed to Laquez, a second time, hitting him square in the face, causing his head to bang up against the window frame. Everything went black after that.

*****

Laquez awoke, this time, to the sound of a man asking him if he was all right, then reaching in to help him out of the vehicle. Laquez struggled out. The man helped him to the ground as gently as he could. “Sir, please relax. Don’t try to get up.” Laquez’s head was foggy at first but began to clear as his vision came into focus.

Like before, his head throbbed. He felt his head and found a lump in the back, but no open wounds. He moved to get off the ground. “No, please…stay down,” the man insisted. Laquez looked at the guy, who was obviously concerned about his well-being. He didn’t want to be rude, but there was no way he was staying on the ground. Laquez forced a smile. “I’m okay, sir, really. I just want to get up, all right?” The man looked at him nervously, not sure how to handle the situation. Laquez saw the hesitation. “I’m serious,” he affirmed with conviction. “I’m all right…trust me.” “Okay,” the man relented, reluctant. “But I’m calling for an ambulance.” “That won’t be necessary. Can I just use your phone for a second, to call my buddy…He’s a cop. He’ll handle everything.” The man complied without further questioning. Laquez dialed Dyvee’s number. As he’d suspected earlier, Dyvee was worried sick and Yacub was with him. “Jesus Christ, Laquez!” Dyvee expressed emotionally. “Where have you been?” “I was out driving.” “Where are you now?” Laquez didn’t know offhand. He muzzled the phone and asked the man, who was watching him intently, what road they were on. The man told him. “I’m on Bordere Road.” “What the hell are you doing all the way out there?” “I told you I was cruising…trying to clear my mind.” “Well, did it work?”

“At first.” “What do you mean ‘at first’?” “Listen, Dyvee,” Laquez replied a bit impatiently, “I need you to come out here. I had an accident, wrapped my truck around a pole, but I’m fine though, no injuries other than a bump on the head.” “What happened?” “I’ll tell you when you get here.” “Do you need an ambulance?” “No, just a tow truck.” “Okay. We’ll be there in forty-five minutes.” “Thanks.” “Yup.” When Laquez hung up, he handed the phone back to its owner, who seemed to be almost as concerned as Dyvee was. “Thanks pal,” Laquez said with sincerity. He held out his hand in greeting. “Laquez.” “Frank.” He took the offered hand. “So, is everything all set? You need a ride or anything?” “Actually, no. I’m all set. My friend’s on his way with a tow truck.” “Want me to wait with you until they get here, in case you need my phone again?” “Not if you have somewhere to be. I’d hate to hold you up.” “No. It’s no problem. I was just on my way home. I live about three miles from here.”

“Oh? In that case…I’d love some company while I wait.” The man’s name was Frank Gueber. He was a real estate agent. He worked out of an office in north Stamford. He was married with one child, a four-year-old named Alana. He was forty-two, short, and stubby. He wore a sky blue dress shirt and dark gray slacks. He had on an expensive pair of loafers and a Rolex that looked as costly as the one Laquez wore. His hair was jet-black, balding at the top. He also sported a thick mustache. Conversation came easy between the two. They were extremely compatible and had a lot of things in common. The fact that he was a realtor was superconvenient. It reminded Laquez that he had a house to sell, and he revealed that to Frank. Frank informed him that he could sell the house quickly for top dollar, especially due to its location. They exchanged numbers. Shortly after Dyvee and Yacub arrived with the tow truck, relieving Frank from his Good Samaritan duties. He was home in time for six o’clock super. “Pretty nice guy,” Laquez proclaimed as Frank’s rear lights dwindled farther away. “I’ll bet,” Dyvee commented, dismissive. “Laquez, what happened?” “Straight to the point, huh? Always the investigator.” “Well…,” he probed, ignoring his reply. Laquez decided that there was no use putting it off. Better to tell him and have it done away with. He told them every detail from the moment he left the hospital, to the point his Via Cross hit the pole. He had his doubts about the reality of the Regal. Even as he told them, he was aware that that part could have been in his head. There were no bodies, no wrecked vehicle, nothing. The Via Cross was totaled, but there were no bullet holes. However, the windshield was sunk inward. That showed that something heavy had landed on it. It was why he crashed to begin with. So, there was a small bit of reality there. While Laquez told his friends what occurred, the tow truck operator had hitched the Via Cross and was preparing to haul it aboard the flatbed. He was just about to activate the chain that would pull the vehicle up. Before he could hit that

switch Laquez stopped him. He ed his busted cell, and he wanted to retrieve it. The towman signaled it was clear to do so. Laquez went inside the vehicle and grabbed his phone. Instantly his blood turned cold, and he felt a wave of dizziness through him, brought about by fear and confusion. Not only was his cell phone as good as new, it was actually ringing in his hand. He answered the phone as if in a trance. “Hello.” “Hello, Laquez?” “Yeah.” “It’s Frank, Frank Gueber.” Laquez’s edginess subsided a bit but not nearly enough. “Oh, hey, Frank.” “I wasn’t expecting you to answer…I was just leaving you a message. Thought you said your phone was busted?” he asked awkwardly. “Oh yeah,” Laquez answered uncomfortably, “I thought it was. What was the message about?” He switched the topic. “Um, I know you’re preoccupied, I just wanted to ask, or get a bit of confirmation about the house. I made a call and I just wanted to confirm that the address was for 145 Rosewood Drive?” “That’s correct.” “Great. I’ll have that house sold by the end of the week.” “That sounds awesome. Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.” “You’re welcome. Talk to you soon.” “Later,” Laquez said then ended the call. When he came out of the Via Cross, he was holding his cell in his hand absently.

Both Yacub and Dyvee were staring at him, concerned. “My phone,” Laquez said, displaced, “it’s working.” “But you said it was busted,” Yacub inquired, skeptical. “I did.” The Via Cross was being pulled upward where it would be secured on the flatbed of the tow truck. As it was being pulled away from the pole and onto the lift, all three men stared at it, as if appraising the damages. What caught their eye first was the smashed grill and hood. The pole had definitely done a number on it. What caught their eye next was the windshield that Laquez claimed was slumped inward, which was the whole reason for the crash. It was flawless, without a scratch.

*****

In the rear seat of Dyvee’s unmarked cruiser, Laquez sat, feeling alienated, like he was a nutcase being transported to a mental asylum. It didn’t matter that Dyvee and Yacub tried their best to cater to his emotional state, giving him the benefit of the doubt. They tried not to show how they really felt. There was an explanation, a logical one for why things were so wacky for their friend suddenly. There had to be. Or, Laquez had snapped. Laquez felt that this was as hard on them as it was on him. He was experiencing all these bizarre events; he was the one who appeared to be disconnected from reality. But they had to witness his mental breakdown. They had to stand by helpless while their dear friend struggled with his sanity and his perception of what was real and illusory. “Hey, Laquez,” Dyvee voiced softly, grasping for his friend’s attention. When he saw that he had it, he continued, “Don’t feel estranged. You’re not the only person this has happened to.”

“Oh?” Laquez responded coyly. “And what’s happened?” Dyvee couldn’t answer that question. “Mm hmm,” Laquez uttered. “That’s what I thought too.” “None of this makes sense,” Yacub ed in. “How could these things be happening but not happening? And why now…to only you?” “Well, he has been under some real stress lately,” Dyvee put in. “Losing people so dear to you could have that effect.” “But these things started happening before anyone died, ?” Laquez reminded. “What duress was I under prior to that?” “Maybe you weren’t aware of the stress then,” Yacub surmised. “Then how could it bother me? People don’t crack over problems they’re not aware of. They crack because they’re aware of them. If I didn’t know I had issues, how could what I don’t know affect me?” “Subconsciously.” It was more a statement than a question Dyvee posed. “Tell me more about that, Dr. Dyvee,” Laquez returned cynically. “That’s not my field.” “Then spare me your prognosis.” “I do know someone who is well versed in this. He works for the department… counsels officers who experience traumatizing events.” “Such as?” “Shootings, child murders and rapes, tortures, all sorts of things.” “I’m not sure we can label this a traumatizing event.” “Laquez, you’re seeing and experiencing events that only you are aware of,” Dyvee pointed out. “You’re having trouble deciphering reality from imagination. I would certainly say this qualifies as traumatic.”

“But there was no initial trauma that brought this on. It just happened.” “I understand that. But maybe it’s something you don’t know about, or worse? Something that happened that you subconsciously suppressed? Maybe he can help you .” “You think that would solve this problem?” he asked, unconvinced. “Who knows? But it’s worth a shot.” “Yeah Laquez,” Yacub agreed. “Just try it. Please man? What harm could it do? If it helps, this will all be over. ’Cause it’s not just affecting you, man, it’s hurting us all.” Laquez knew Yacub spoke the truth. He knew how close they all were, how much they loved him. His pains, his worries, his fears were also theirs. If therapy worked fine. If not, they would still be there for him every step of the way. They were his friends, and together they would get through this. “All right,” he complied finally. “I’ll go see him. Set it up for tomorrow evening…around five.” “Why so late?” Dyvee wondered. “Because I have to work tomorrow.” “Are you serious?” Yacub rebuked. “Can’t you take some time off? You’re the boss for Christ’s sake.” “Don’t you think I know that? I’m not going in because I have to. I’m going in because I want to. If I sit around with nothing to do…what do you think is gonna happen?” He let that sink in. “I’m going to have more of these episodes. But if I stay busy and focus on other things, things that I believe to be reality like work, and my employees, maybe I can avoid any further events. Especially since my delusions are becoming dangerous for me.” “You do have a point,” Dyvee agreed hands down. “So, like I said, schedule it for around five.”

That’s what I’ll do, but in the meantime, what are you going to do tonight?” “Go home…get some sleep. Shower.” “I think at least one of us should stay with him,” Yacub suggested to Dyvee. “What am I, ten? No,” Laquez insisted. “No one is staying with me. You both have stressed enough over me. I want you both to go home, be with your families, get some rest…get some ass, whatever. But stop worrying about me. I’m serious.” His point was made. They knew there would be no changing his mind. They rode the rest of the way in disagreeable silence. Laquez preferred it that way, at least for the time being. When they got to Laquez’s house, all three men got out of the car at once. Laquez stood there, staring them down defiantly. This would be their last attempt at reasoning with him. He wanted to nip it in the bud before it began. “Laquez—” “No,” Laquez cut Dyvee off swiftly. “I said I’m cool. I know you both care. I love you guys too, but come on…” He didn’t have to convince them any further. Both men gave in, giving him sincere hugs before saying their goodbyes. When they were back in the unmarked cruiser, Yacub rolled down the enger side window so Dyvee could say one last thing. “I’m going to call you in a little while. Make sure you answer.” “Okay, Mommy.” Both Yacub and Dyvee smiled begrudgingly. “Get out of here guys,” Laquez said as he turned and walked up to his front door. Once inside, he found that he did feel a bit lonely. He wouldn’t have minded some company. But what’s done is done, he decided. He would deal with the night alone and allow his friends some peace of mind as well.

A shower would be nice. That’s what he would do. Then a light meal and nightcap. A super strong nightcap. He was on his way up the stairs when he noticed that his message light was flashing. When he walked over to the phone, he saw that he had fifty-three new messages. He wanted to sift through and clear the messages. He began to do so, listening to the first few seconds then deleting. The first thirty-five were from women feeling neglected or vulnerable, nothing important. He listened to ten more which were similar. He was down to thirteen. He decided to shower, eat, and fix himself a powerful drink. After he showered and ate, he nursed his drink while listening to the last of the messages. The first six were of no consequence, but the seventh did raise a brow. “Laquez,” a voice said timidly, “Laquez, I…I…thank you.” There was sincere regret and remorse in her tone. “I…That means a lot.” It was Tasa. She had gotten his voice message, or the message he left with her mother. He could tell she was still scared and that she felt terrible for what she had done. He needed to talk to her. He dialed her number. The phone rang four times, then the voice mail came on. He had the feeling she was screening his calls. He assumed that her guilt would not yet allow her to answer for him. Still he left a message. “Hey, Tasa, I got your message. I just want to say I understand. And you’re very welcome. You really do mean a lot to me.” When he hung up, he felt truly humbled. He knew she was listening to the message. He doubted she would return his call though, certainly not tonight. But eventually she would. That made him feel good. As he sipped the remainder of his drink, he thought of Tasa sitting somewhere, hiding, tears in her eyes, but feeling relieved. He hoped so anyway. The minutes ticked by, and as they did, he began to calm. And with that calm came sleepiness. He yawned once, then again. He set his glass down and rose from his seat and headed upstairs. He hit the bed with a clear conscience and a clear mind.

Chapter

25

Laquez awoke at 6:00 a.m. He felt semi-normal. He wasn’t confused. He ed all the odd experiences, but they weren’t pressing any longer. It was a new day, and he would treat it as such. The first thing he did was shower, careful not to wet the bandage too much. Next, he had a light breakfast. Then he was out the door. He drove his Range to work. He had just parked and was heading up to his office when his cell rang. It was Dyvee. “Hey, Laquez.” “What’s up bro?” “I was just checking on you. I called last night, but you didn’t answer.” “I must have been knocked out.” “Did you sleep well?” “Excellent. And guess what?” “What?” “Tasa called.” That was a shock. “Oh, yeah. What did she say?” “That’s not what’s important. What is important is that she called. So, everything is cool.” “If you say so,” Dyvee said, unconvinced. “So we won’t have to worry about

another attempt then?” “No. We won’t.” “So you’re at work?” “Yup. I’m heading up right now.” “All right, then I’ll let you go.” “Cool.” “We’re still on for today, right?” “What do you mean?” “The psychologist, ?” “Oh yeah. Yes. Of course. At five o’clock. Sure.” “Great. I’ll talk to you later.” “Sure thing.” When Laquez hung up, he considered how he felt about seeing a psychologist. He realized that he felt anxious, a bit nervous, but otherwise positive. In fact, he felt it would do him some good. He found that he was actually looking forward to it. He let that thought trail off as he entered the elevator, heading up to his office. He tried to keep from thinking, but Jesse popped into his mind. He didn’t want to believe she was gone. But seeing that she was, was at least consistent to this reality. He really just wanted to be done with the illusions. In his head, she was alive, but he didn’t want to experience her presence physically unless others could experience it too. Otherwise, she’d be nothing more than a ghost haunting him. He stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hall to the reception area. When he got there, he greeted his employees. They seemed to be at ease. He received none of the strange or peculiar glances of concern as he had before.

When he got to Alisha’s office door, he took a deep breath and entered the office. Alisha looked up at him then smiled a pretty but forced smile. There was some concern on her face. Laquez understood why he received such a glare. The other day he had asked her to put him through to a woman everyone knew was dead. He figured the best way to rectify the situation was to act normal, put her mind at ease. “Hello Alisha,” he said merrily. “How are you doing this morning?” “Fine, thanks. And you?” “I’m actually very good. Is there any urgent matters I should be aware of?” “No, nothing at the moment, but you do have a meeting with a Mr. Rolmoth at 2:30. And any matters that need attention are on your desk.” “Thank you. Jesse was right about you being the best candidate for the job.” She tensed a little at the sound of Jesse’s name. “She really was a sweet woman,” Laquez reminisced. “I’m going to miss her.” Instantly Alisha relaxed. “Yeah, she really was. I didn’t get to know her that well, but I’m still going to miss her too.” “Yeah,” Laquez agreed, nodding. “Just keep her memory alive by being all that she expected you to be and more.” “Will do, Mr. Fortell.” This time her smile was genuine. He turned and entered his office. As he walked through the conference room, he felt unnaturally unnerved. When he got to his personal office door, he paused, afraid to twist the knob for fear that Jesse would run up and smother him with hugs and kisses. His mental state would crumble then. He willed up the courage and entered. Jesse did not greet him as she had previously. The room was empty except for him. A wave of disappointment

washed over him, but relief quickly over took it. It saddened and depressed him that her death was a reality, but it was good that it was his reality too. She was gone. He knew that dwelling on it would break his emotional state. He needed to clear his mind and focus on work. For the next six hours, that’s exactly what he did. He kept his mind busy, going over s, checking in with clients. He touched base with his partners, and wooed potential clients. Alisha came in on a few occasions to bring files and the lunch that he had delivered. He also talked to Frank Gueber about the house he wanted sold. He was actually on a roll, so by the time his 2:30 meeting arose, he was totally prepared and professionally focused. His client arrived on time. He was led into the conference room by Alisha, and Laquez took it from there. His presentation was flawless, his approach sincere but cavalier, and his impression awesome. When it was over, he informed Alisha that he’d be leaving early. He wanted to make it to the psychologist that Dyvee set him up with on time. He had just said his farewell to Alisha and had taken the left through the reception area to get to the elevators when he heard a distinct sound. It was clear and it was intensifying as he stood listening. The sound of an airplane. It sounded dangerously close, so close that if it was soaring over the building, it had to be virtually on top of it. He looked around to see if anyone else noticed. It appeared as if they hadn’t. They continued to work oblivious to it. Laquez began surveying the area, and that’s when he noticed what it was. A plane. He saw it as he gazed through the windows beyond the cubicles. It was flying way too low, heading directly toward their building, his office. The left engine was visibly on fire, smoking as it caused the entire plane to tilt to the left. It was going down and heading their way. He thought of what could be done, fight or flight, but quickly realized both were

futile. There was no time to escape. The plane would be impacting the building within seconds, and there would certainly be an explosion. They would all be incinerated. All Laquez could think to do was stare. The plane got close enough to where it filled all the windows in the reception area, blocking the sunlight outside. “Get down!” he shouted as he ducked into a protective crouch. He waited for the inevitable, listened for the deafening crash and the panicked screams. He heard nothing. He heard no crash, no boom, felt no heat, no explosion. He uncovered his head and looked up. All his employees were staring worriedly at him, and some gathered close, forming a circle around him, prepared to help if need be. But there was no plane, no threat at all. Still crouched, his eyes scanned the concerned faces around him. He looked to the windows then toward his office. Alisha was standing in the doorway watching intently. And off to the right of her stood Jesse, staring at him with sadness. “Jesse?” he said softly. Jesse moved toward him and crouched low to where they were eye to eye. She reached a hand out and gently caressed his face. Then she offered her hand. Once he took it, she guided him to his feet. “Go home Laquez,” she said sullenly. He looked at the others present, searching for verification that they were seeing what he was seeing. He felt her touch, he smelled her breath, her scent, and he heard her beautiful voice. But no one else seemed to. He looked back to Jesse, and she stared lovingly back at him. “I love you,” he mouthed the words, barely audible. “And I love you.” He reached out and embraced her then. Their lips and tongues touched. Alisha came forward and touched him on the shoulder. She shook him slightly as if trying to wake him. His lips parted from Jesse’s, and he turned, startled to meet

Alisha’s troubled gaze. Her eyes were misting. “Mr. Fortell,” she began, fretful, “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?” His gaze returned to Jesse, whom he was still holding in his arms. She held him as well. His eyes went back to Alisha, who was staring at the space where Jesse was supposed to be, but whom she couldn’t see apparently. When his gaze fell back to Jesse, she released him and stepped a few feet back. His arms fell to his sides. “Go,” she said suddenly. “I’ll see you soon.” Laquez nodded and turned to leave. He looked at all the faces staring at him, their embarrassed-pity-filled expressions. He knew what they were all thinking. All except Jesse. She stared with affection and longing. He backed up a few more steps then turned and rushed out. The last face he saw was Alisha’s. She was crying. He raced down the hall to the elevator then through the parking area to his Range. When he was inside, he quickly started it up and peeled out of the garage. He needed to see that psychologist. He was shaken, highly upset. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He had encountered Jesse’s being again, with all his physical senses. Only this time, others were around to witness, but none saw. It wasn’t like a haunting, where the apparition appeared when he was alone. Jesse had remained there till he left. He needed answers. He hoped the psychologist could shed some light on things. Or he would be as good as dead.

Chapter

26

Laquez arrived at the psychologist office early, checked with the receptionist, confirmed his appointment, then sat down, feeling the full effect of his anxiety. His cell phone rang, and he answered. His nerves were on edge; he was a mess. “Hello.” “Laquez,” Dyvee said pressingly. “Are you there yet?” “Yeah, I am,” he replied, out of sorts. “I had another episode cous. They’re getting worse.” “Well, it’s great you kept your appointment. Hopefully he can help.” “I hope so.” “He’s really good at what he does.” “We’ll see,” Laquez returned, doubtful. “It’ll be okay Laquez. Just relax. Take it as it comes.” “Yeah, I know. It’s just…this shit is crazy.” “Just tell him everything straight up. Don’t hold back.” “I won’t.” “Do you know how long you’ll be there?” “No. Just says when it starts.” “Well, call me the second it ends. And don’t leave until I get there. All right?”

“Okay.” “Laquez.” “Yeah.” “I love you bro.” “Love you too.” Twelve minutes later, which seemed like twelve hours, the receptionist informed him that the psychologist was ready to see him. Laquez jumped up and headed into the office. When he entered, he was taken aback by what he saw. Had it not been for his current anxiety, he would have appreciated it more. It was really impressive. On the walls hung alluring paintings, designed to entice the viewer and create in them a sense of serenity, of comfort. The furniture was exquisite, plush, and cozy, inviting one into relaxation. There was ample space, and everything was perfectly positioned. There was a well-organized library to the right of the psychologist’s desk. And above the desk, on the back wall, were all his credentials. Laquez’s eyes went from the objects in the office to the little man sitting behind the desk. His hands were folded before him. A pleasant smirk was on his face. He was of Asian descent, in his midsixties, but looked well for his age. His eyes were brown, piercing, and full of wisdom. He had a full head of black hair, trimmed in a low buzz cut. He wore no glasses, and his cheeks sagged, slightly bordering thin wide lips. He wore a gray cashmere sweater with a dress shirt and tie tucked into it. As Laquez approached, he stood to his full height of five feet, four inches, and offered him his hand. “Ahh. You must be Laquez. I’m Dr. Jermaine Su lon.” “How are you doing, sir?” “Please…call me Jermaine.” They released hands. “So where would you like to

conduct the session? Here? Or would you rather another more comfortable spot?” “Here’s fine,” Laquez decided. He didn’t want to lie down. He sat down in one of the plush chairs to the right of Dr. Su lon, who seated himself once Laquez was sitting. Then the session began. “So where would you like to start?” From that point, Laquez told him everything in summary. Dr. Su lon listened attentively, taking notes in between. He didn’t interrupt, not even to ask questions, or for clarification. He simply took it all in patiently. When Laquez concluded with the most recent event, Dr. Su lon opened up with his professional thesis. “I am totally stumped” was his first response. “Huh?” Laquez muttered, perturbed. “I’m sorry. But honestly, I’ve never see anything like this in my entire life. Not to say I’m not familiar with alternate reality…and religious dogma on illusory realities. I just never met anyone who actual experienced them.” “But there are philosophies and dogma on this type of thing?” “Oh, most certainly. For instance, many Buddhists believe that this life is a dream, similar to a fantasy. They believe that one awakens upon death. If they lived their fantasy life in accordance with the Dharma, so to speak, then they reach Nirvana, or nonexistence. If not…they enter the dream called life to try again. “Tibetan monks meditate and focus on the spirit and train themselves to detach from the five senses. Thus, they can levitate, deal with extreme cold and intense heat as if oblivious to it. They can go without food, water for excessive amounts of time. They can walk on hot coals, lay on nails without piercing their skin, control their heart rate and breathing to the point of being submerged or buried for hours, even days. “In Islam, Muslims believe that this life is secondary, as do most Christians, Jews, and Witnesses. Hindus believe that life and ego are illusory. Take the

goddess Kali. She is fabled to bring death to the ego, which is considered the illusory self-centered view of reality. She is associated specifically with the process of human dying. Not the worship of death, but to overcome the ‘I am the body’ idea, by reinforcing the awareness that the body is a temporary condition, for it is our attachment to the body that gives rise to ego. Shiva and Kali are said to grant liberation by removing the illusion of the ego. Thus…we are the eternal ‘I Am’ and not the body.” “That sounds crazy,” Laquez cut in, perplexed. “Not exactly.” “Yes, it does because without our bodies, we don’t exist. Reality depends on what we experience with our five senses. It’s how we adapt and thrive off of our environments. It’s how we form norms in a society. It’s how we learn…how we breed. Without the body, we couldn’t experience any sensations in this world.” “That does appear to be true. But on the contrary, it’s only true in an egocentered civilization, which I must say…we seem to be. Shiva and Kali are said to be the destroyers of this unreality. The ego senses Kali and trembles in fear because it sees her as its own eventual demise. A person who is attached to his or her ego will not see Kali, who will appear in a fearsome form.” “But our egos are what identify us” was Laquez’s rebuttal. “It’s how we develop individuality. And it’s how we set standards for our society. The same for norms and traditions.” “In other words,” Dr. Su lon surmised, “how we judge and set judgment?” “In a sense, yes.” “But what, exactly, is being judged?” “People…environments, culture, innovations, you name it.” “Ahh…all that is pertinent to the flesh?” “Exactly. It’s what we are. That’s the reality of it.” “But it’s not…at least not according to spirituality. In that, we are beings of the

spirit and not the flesh. So, liberation can only proceed when our attachment to the body ends.” “That would defeat the whole purpose of being alive. If we weren’t meant to feel, taste, smell, hear, or see, then we would have evolved with those senses being obsolete. We are a part of this world because of our bodies. And as it stands from a logical standpoint, the only true reality is that of the flesh. That’s something I know for a fact.” “Do you know, Mr. Fortell, that the philosopher Socrates was considered the smartest man in Athens, which was a very logical city then. It was because he understood that the key to knowledge was to knowing that we know nothing at all. This life, this world, is all conjecture. Open to be interpreted according to the interpreter.” “Which means?” “Reality is in the eye of the beholder. I’m sure you’ve heard that one before. Like if a tree falls in a forest, and there’s no one around to hear, does it make a sound? And what about subatomic particles? Quantum physics states that objects only become solid once they’re perceived to be. The vehicle you drove here today may only be solid because you will it to be, on a subconscious level, of course. And the only reason others can see it is because collectively, they believe automobiles exist. And because it’s subconscious, we aren’t aware of it, nor can we control what we make a reality, for it is subliminally instilled in our psyche. The laws of relativity, E equals MC squared, Einstein’s famous theorem. If he were alive today, what do you think he would make of your dilemma?” Laquez was speechless. “Let’s really look at your situation from a more magnified prospective. You’ve experienced realities that were true, especially as far as you were concerned. You explored these realities with your senses, yet…you’re willing to accept them as delusions, or hallucinations, brought on by something you’re not even aware of. You even toyed with the notion that they were perhaps true occurrences taking place in alternate realities. And that somehow, you were able to experience that reality as well as this one. You’re feeling, smelling, hearing, seeing and tasting someone who has ed away. People that you cared about have ed away, out of this existence, yet you still refuse to accept that this life may be an

illusion. That, my good man, is the ego. It’s fighting to make sense, to rationalize the irrational.” “So you’re saying my ego is causing all this?” Laquez asked, unremitting. “I can’t state for sure. But Freud said it best when he said the ID or superego will fight to the end to exist. And we all know that self-preservation is the foremost inner instinct. I would definitely say that the ego is the place to start.” “So I’m supposed to pretend like I don’t exist?” “What I’m saying is evaluate yourself, what’s important to you now, and what’s been important to you previously. Think of what you believe makes you important, what makes you, you. Think of everything that happened to you over the last week and try to make a connection. Now nothing I’m suggesting is a diagnosis. Please understand that. As I’ve itted before, your situation is unique and beyond me. I’m merely brainstorming, offering you speculative solutions at best.” “Which I can take or leave?” “Precisely. And free of charge.” “So basically, you can’t do anything for me?” He felt let down. “Actually, I believe I gave you an angle. I feel that what I contributed has helped.” “I don’t feel any better.” “Don’t you?” He considered how he felt when he first entered the office and how he felt currently. He did feel like he had a better grasp on things. He was much calmer, composed, and certainly more enlightened. The therapy session had helped. “Actually, I do feel a bit more…adjusted.” “That’s good to hear.”

“There is one thing though, something I can’t quite swallow, no matter how much I try.” “Well, shoot.” “From a religious or spiritual viewpoint…this world is temporary…basically an illusion. And this reality isn’t real at all …but the afterlife is?” “Not exactly,” Dr. Su lon corrected. “It’s more like this life is real, but only in the sense of a test. The challenge is to discipline yourself to resist being controlled by the desires of the flesh. That’s why there are so many temptations…so many things that are absolutely wonderfully pleasurable for the flesh, but bad for the soul.” “So we’re basically supposed to resist being human…even though that’s what we were designed to be?” “The crazy thing is in a nutshell, that’s the gist of it. But of course, there’s a lot more to it than that. See…most of us have the tendency to equate being human with the ego. It’s true that the ego plays a big part in helping us to identify what it is to be a real person, but the true reality of it is that being human has hardly anything to do with being aware of ourselves as an individual. Being human is really understanding others and how closely we relate and need each other in order to thrive. Individualism causes us to focus more on ourselves…on the me…the I…the mine…the my…and that’s what causes corruption, domination, power trips, the need to control…to be in charge. Under those conditions, the ego is at its best.” “So what you’re saying is…as an individual person…we are insignificant…but collectively…as a whole, we are humans?” “Exactly, and if you really think about it, it makes perfect sense. Everything the individual does is either to influence, attract, or connect with the masses. Egocentered people thrive off the attention of others. Without it, they are not themselves. They are out of sorts. When their ego is not being catered to, the ‘I AM,’ not tended to, it goes into panic mode. The results of a panicked ego… could be exactly what you’ve been experiencing lately.” “Is that so?”

“It very well could be.” “Therefore…you’re implying that if I kill the ego…all of this would end? My life would return to normal?” “That I highly doubt, for a few reasons. First off, the ego will not be easily killed. And even if you managed to do the impossible…where would that leave you…the identity, the personality, known as Laquez Fortell? What would life be to you then…What would you consider your purpose? Secondly, what would you consider to be back to normal…when you’ve only ever experienced and known a life centered on the body…on the ego? Would you be able to accept that what you once thought of as essential was nothing more than inconsequential happenings? Thirdly, what would you expect reality to be like without the ego. Could you live a meaningful life? And what existence would you create to give it meaning?” “If you’re trying to overwhelm me…congratulations,” Laquez replied, playfully sarcastic. “That’s not my intent…believe me. The truth is…I’m overwhelmed myself. And as I address these questions to you…I address them at myself as well. I, as everyone else, also struggle with the ego. On the face, I’m a psychologist. I have a PHD and a master’s in the fields of the mind and human behavior. It appears an accomplishment. I may seem knowledgeable. I have my credentials, but in the end…does any of that matter? I can also ask myself…who am I…what do I know? What makes me an important individual? And to whom am I important? I have degrees, which are pieces of paper with words printed on them. Society labels me as intelligent, perhaps even prestigious, but by what standard is that measured? And by what type of society? Spiritual…or ego-centered? The answer is obvious.” “Somewhat,” Laquez agreed. “But the fact still remains…all we, as people, as a society, only know what is of the body. Everything else is speculation…based entirely on faith and belief. None of what you surmised could be reasonably explained with facts to back them up.” “That depends on your perception of what facts really are. I agree that a lot of what pertains to spirituality is indeed faith based. But some believe it to be more

fact based than science, math, or even so-called fact itself.” “That really doesn’t make sense. You mean to tell me that some would rather believe in something that cannot be tangibly proven…over something that can?” “You stated that when you were first told Jesse was dead, you had trouble accepting it, but you believed it. The next day at work…she turns up in the office. You experience her with all five senses. There was no doubt in your mind that she was alive. But then…you’re brought to the morgue, you’re showed her body…and even still to this day, you swear and profess that you saw no one at all on that metal slab…let alone Jesse.” “But that was different,” Laquez exclaimed, defensive. “Oh?” “Yeah! I experienced her alive with my senses. At the morgue, I neither saw, heard, smelled, or felt her…even after Dyvee forced my hand down to touch her. All I felt was cold metal.” “But does that mean that she wasn’t there?” “I don’t get it.” “Listen,” Dr. Su lon said in explanation, “you said it didn’t make sense that someone would believe more in something that took faith, rather than something that could be proven by fact. In that morgue, the so-called fact was…she was on that slab. But to you…she was not. To everyone present, but you, there was something tangible there. So, the point I’m making is that some people view faith-based occurrences, or dilemmas, as more reality than reality itself.” Laquez understood. It was written all over his face. But he was far from accepting it. “Ultimately,” Dr. Su lon concluded, “I believe that there is only one way for you to cure yourself, so to speak. That is to kill the ego and accept that everything you’ve come to know to be real and true…is the illusion. And that reality…is in the eye of the beholder. Which is…I believe…virtually impossible.”

“Huh?” Laquez muttered, stupified. “But that’s just my absolute opinion.” “Oh! That sums it up.” There was true disappointment. “I’m not saying that it can’t be done at all. I believe you can accept all sorts of realities for what they are. Even that reality could be perceived as an illusion. But to disconnect or detach the self from that reality…that there is the struggle.” Laquez sat there thoughtfully, not sure what else to say, or what other questions could be asked. It appeared that there was a solution no matter how far-fetched. It was there. He was a man of reason. He loved his identity and his individuality, ergo, his ego. He was not one to rely on faith and faith alone. He was a thinker, and he would die as one. “I believe,” Dr. Su lon continued, “in the end, we are both at an ime. I, for one, feel that I may have gotten more out of this session than you. But I do hope I gave you something to chew on and mull over.” “Oh, that you did.” The one thing about this session he planned to apply was acceptance. If he could accept these delusions as they came and not dwell on them, just take them for what they were, a momentary lapse in his reality, he’d be all right. He also needed to be able to distinguish reality from illusion. He stood up then, indicating that the session, as far as he was concerned, was over. Dr. Su lon stood too, and reached out to shake Laquez’s hand in parting. “It’s been a real pleasure and a privilege to meet you and pick your brain.” They released hands. “This was certainly something new for the books, and I would love your permission to document our session and perhaps write a treatise about it? No names, of course.” “Go right ahead. Hopefully someone will read it and shed a new light on the issue…not that you didn’t shed some light.” “I understand.” Laquez turned to leave, but turned back abruptly.

“Oh, Doctor?” “Yes.” “Do you have any tips on how I can distinguish between these, delusions and reality?” Dr. Su lon thought about it before answering. “Well, if there’s others around…subtly seek verification. Slyly point out what you’re experiencing and see if they relate. If you’re alone…all I can say is be extremely mindful of the occurrence. Thoroughly consult your conscience counter your ego by not allowing it to determine the experience exclusively based on the body and the senses. Look to your spirit and accept that the reality that you’re experiencing is just one of many.” “Thanks Doc!” “You’re very welcome.” Laquez walked out of the office, still confused, but more at ease. If accepting would make him cope better, then that’s what he would do. As he walked out of the building and to his Range Rover, he realized that there was one thing that he agreed with one hundred percent that Dr. Su lon said. That the ego was impossible to kill.

*****

Laquez rode home feeling quite content, even though he should have been severely disturbed. He had not gotten the answer he’d hoped for from the psychologist, but he did get a certain level of clarification. The main thing he was focused on was acceptance. If he could accept that his delusions were nothing but what they appeared to be, then he could control how he reacted to them physically and emotionally. The hard part would be trying to distinguish between real and imagined.

His cell phone rang then. He answered it on the third ring. His tone was relaxed, casual. “Hello!” “Hey, man…how’d the session go…or are you still there?” It was Dyvee. “Nah. I just finished. I’m on my way home now.” “How are you feeling? Did it help at all?” “I definitely got some clarification, but no sure solution. Turns out he’s never seen anything like my situation. He asked if he could write a piece about me… That’s how intrigued he was.” “That’s ill. Did you tell him everything?” “Everything. Even what happened at the office today.” “What happened?” Laquez ran it down for him, giving him the summarized version. It still had the same effect as if he’d told it in detail. “So, what was his take on it?” Dyvee asked with concern and astonishment. “He didn’t really have one. He was just as confused as I am. But he did give me a pretty good theory.” “And that is?” Laquez told him what the psychologist had surmised as best he could. He couldn’t all the details, but he did a good job improvising. Dyvee seemed to get a full understanding of what the doctor was getting at. His response when Laquez was finished was confirmation of that. “Damn…almost makes me wonder.” “What? Come on man!” Laquez stated with decadence. “You know very well

what reality is. You’ve been living it all your life. You’re not the one that’s delusional, so don’t start doubting or you’ll end up in my shoes. And you certainly don’t want that. You at least know what to expect every day. I, on the other hand, do not.” “You got a point there…but still…what he told you gives me another way to look at things.” “I’m telling you…stay away from that route. That’s a warning. It’s really hard to handle once it starts.” “True…true. What do you plan on doing later?” Laquez looked at his watch and saw that it was a quarter to 10:00 p.m. He didn’t realize he had been with the psych doctor that long. “Probably just take a shower and call it a night.” “On a Saturday?” “I don’t quite feel much like hanging out…if you know what I mean?” “I feel you man. I’m sorry about this whole mess.” “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Besides, I’ll most likely feel better by tomorrow. That doctor did plant a seed I think will be beneficial if I water it…you know?” “I do. I hope things work out too.” “They will.” And he really did feel that way. “So…I’ll let you go. Call me tomorrow, okay?” “Sure thing!” “Peace!” By the time that call ended, Laquez was pulling into his garage. He parked the Range, got out, and went inside his house. He set his keys and his cell phone down on the nearest stand and went to check his messages. He had forty-eight new ones.

He listened to then deleted them all except two. One of which was from the body shop that was working on his Via Cross, informing him that his vehicle would be ready by next Friday. The other was from his new secretary, Alisha Mattex. “Hello…Laquez?” Her tone was sullen, uncertain, doused with pity. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but…I…well, I’m sorry about what happened to Jesse. And if you need anything…someone to talk to…I’m here, okay? Byebye.” How sweet of her, he thought. He would take her up on that offer, but not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts and a stiff drink, which appeared to be becoming the norm lately. Before he settled down to drink and ponder, he would shower first. That’s what he headed upstairs to do. In his bedroom, he first took off his blazer. Sitting on the bed, he took off his shoes and socks. He removed his tie next, then his belt. He untucked his shirt then unbuttoned it and pulled it off. His undershirt came off next. Then his tros. Every garment of clothing he removed he laid neatly on his bed, all except his shoes, which remained on the floor. That done, he headed to the bathroom with just his boxer briefs on. He removed his boxers and stepped into the shower stall. He hit the switch to activate all the showerheads all at once and felt the streams blast into him in unison. But something about it was wrong. Instead of feeling the heated pressure of the water making with his skin, he felt a patter, a dampening, then all of a sudden, sodden and heavy. When he looked down at himself he was amazed to find that he was fully clothed, as he had been previous to entering his bedroom, down to his shoes. He was drenched, standing beneath three showerheads in a full suit, an expensive one at that. He distinctively recalled stripping to his boxers in the room then removing them prior to entering the shower. Yet, here he was fully clad, in full attire. This was truly too much for him to endure. He simply curled into a ball in the corner of the stall and wept like a hungry neglected infant. After twenty minutes of bawling, he found that he was all cried out. He stood up

then and began chanting in his mind, Acceptance, acceptance. Carefully he removed the soaked clothing and wet shoes, then he lathered up and really showered, allowing the steam and water pressure to ease some of his tension. After rinsing, he turned off the shower and looked at the heap of wet clothes in the corner of the stall. He decided he would leave them there, as a reminder to himself of what must be accepted. He dressed quickly in some comfortable sleepwear and went downstairs, directly over to the bar, and grabbed himself a glass and a bottle. He brought both over to a comfortable chaise, reclined, and poured himself one stiff drink after another. He did not think, only drank until he was in a drunken stupor. When he crashed, he fell into a blank slumber, where he did not even dream.

*****

Laquez woke up amazed to find that his head wasn’t pounding, his stomach wasn’t nauseous, nor did he feel the slightest bit cloudy. He was completely spared any effects of a hangover. To him, that was a good omen, especially considering how much alcohol he had consumed. He fell asleep in the chaise, which had turned out to be much more comfortable than he expected. Perhaps this day wouldn’t be so bad after all. Miraculously, he felt invigorated, and even as he stood, he felt no dizziness, no discomfort. He casually strolled from the room he was currently in to the bathroom on that level, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. When he was done with that, he checked the time. It was 8:45 a.m. He decided that he would shower, dress in something casual, but comfortable, and instead of fixing himself a light breakfast, he would go out and have breakfast at one of his favorite cafés. He truly did not want to dine alone this morning, and didn’t think being cooped up in his home all day would serve his

mental state well at all. He needed to accommodate his delusions in order to best accept them. Even if it meant putting himself in a position to experience one of his episodes, it was better to face his fears, rather than hide from them. He considered the fact that the more of these delusions he had, the more he would accept and become comfortable with them. He left his house expectant and as prepared as he could be for another hallucinogenic episode. He chose his Aston Martin for the trip. Thirty-five minutes later, he was parked in the lot used for all patrons dining at MacVeety’s café, which was the name of the diner he chose to satisfy his cravings. When he got out of his vehicle, he already knew exactly what he would indulge in. When he entered the café, he found that it was not too crowded. To the left of the entrance there were about twelve tables, which seated four, all spaced a good distance apart. Only two of those tables were occupied. Straight ahead of him by the counter, which contained ten stools, only two people sat enjoying their breakfasts. They were sitting four stools apart. To the immediate right, centralized, were two more tables that seated two, where one heavyset woman was sitting, enjoying a steak with some eggs and cheese. Lining the windows, in an L shape that extended to the wall, on the far right, were booths, fourteen of them, seven per side. The booths seated up to six people comfortably. Laquez decided that he would take a booth by the window, directly across from the heavyset woman enjoying her steak and eggs. He seated himself and grabbed one of the menus that were positioned on the table. A brief moment later, one of the waitresses approached. She was of Latin descent, jet-black long hair, and dark brown sparkling eyes. She was shapely, thick in all the right places. The apron she wore did nothing to obstruct her voluptuousness. Her skin was tan, her features sharp. Her lips burned bright red as she spoke. “Hello, handsome!” she said boldly, hinting that she found him attractive. “What will you be having? Me, I hope.” She giggled girlishly. “No sir. Have you decided what you want, or do you need more time.”

“Actually…I knew what I wanted before I came in.” “Just what I love…a man who knows exactly what he wants.” Laquez smiled bashfully. This woman was blatantly coming on to him, no beating around the bush. “I had my taste buds set on the French toast. And on the side, I’ll have four turkey sausage. Can you please put the maple syrup in a small dish for me?” “Anything for you,” she said flirtatious. “Would that be all? I could add my phone number if you like…free of charge.” “Is that the special for the day?” he replied with humor. “For you it is.” And with that she was off, swishing to encourage him to focus on what she was working with and thereby offering if he was interested. She really did have a beautiful plump backside. Laquez pulled his attention away from the waitress and began observing his surroundings. He looked at the paintings and pictures that were on the walls, nothing spectacular, just something to momentarily gaze upon. He observed the other diners, all of which appeared to be in their own worlds, or focused on the forty-inch flat screen TV positioned in the rear of the café where everyone could see. It didn’t matter where they were seated. The TV was currently tuned to the news. His eyes left the screen and fell on the closest diner to him, which was the heavyset woman with the steak and eggs. Though her back was to him, he could see that she was scarfing down her food. She was all business; her attention was totally focused on what she had ordered. He wondered if she ate all her meals in that fashion, or was she just straight starving. There was no mystery of why she was eating alone. Laquez was just about to turn away from the gorging woman when he heard her cough and her body jerk once, then twice. Her hands shot to her throat, indicating that something was lodged there. Instinctively Laquez jumped up and rushed over to her. Food was sloshing out of her mouth, her drool stretched

endlessly. Her eyes bulged and her wide face took on a blueish tinge. She was most certainly choking. In a panic, he looked up in the direction of the other diners, a pleading expression overtook his face. He didn’t know the Heimlich, or any form of R. He felt so utterly helpless. But the worst thing was that no one else in the whole diner moved to help. In fact, they hadn’t even noticed anything. They sat there obliviously staring at the TV or concentrating on their food. Laquez was on the verge of screaming, “Help! She’s choking!” When he ed what he had been experiencing in the last week or so. He was certain he was having an episode, witnessing another hallucination, or alternate reality. Either way, if he alerted anyone to what he believed was occurring, they would just stare at him like he was crazy. He ed what Dr. Su lon had advised him to do if he was uncertain that something was real or imagined, which was to subtly invite others to witness the episode. If it appeared that they could not, then it was not this reality. The moment came to test that theory. Laquez looked to the two men sitting on the stools at the counter. “Hey. Excuse me,” he called as casually as his nerves would allow. When both men looked at him at the same time, he made sure he looked down at the dying lady, who sagged in her seat, gagging horrendously. “Do any of you have the time?” As he suspected, instead of either of them looking shocked and concerned, they looked at their watches and one of them gave him the time, while the other just eyed him. The woman was not a part of their reality. “Thanks,” he said, then looked back down at the lady. Both men turned away and went back to doing what they were before he interrupted them. He was left alone with the gagging sounds and the wheezing, which he could hear as clearly as he could hear the news on the television. Her face paled, her head tilted back over the chair, her limbs now limp at her sides. There was a huge bulge in her throat where the food obviously was lodged. He saw it as vividly as he saw the atmosphere of the café. The scent of eggs, steak, and cheese as potent as the smell of shit.

The lady began to spasm, and her body jerked as the last of her life drained out of her. Then she went incredibly still. Laquez looked around and noticed a woman. She was on the opposite side of him, staring sadly at the dead woman. He noticed who the woman was and became highly anxious. He didn’t know if he should be happy, scared, suspicious, or relieved. He figured she wasn’t real either, but the way she stared down at the deceased, there was no mistaken that she saw what he had. He stared at her in suspense until she finally looked up. When she met his glare, she spoke. “She’s dead.” Laquez just nodded, mesmerized. “Maybe we should sit down,” the woman said, gesturing with her head to the booth Laquez was currently standing by. “No need to bring attention to ourselves.” Laquez looked down at the dead woman. “Don’t worry about her,” the woman continued, “she doesn’t exist. At least not to anyone but us. Try not to think about what you believe you saw. Just accept that you seen it and move on.” Laquez calmly moved back to the booth, sat down, and waited on the mysterious Asian woman who, up until this point, purposely eluded him on every other encounter. She moved over to where he sat then seated herself across from him. She really was gorgeous. She wore her hair in two long braids as she had the first time he’d seen her in downtown Stamford, when the boy was hit by the bus. Her emerald green eyes seemed to have a hypnotic effect. She had on a pink short-sleeved blouse, a pair of denim fitted jeans, and some black pumps. The lip gloss on her lips made them shine like a brand-new Porsche. “I know you have many questions,” she began stoically. “I know you’re very confused and don’t know what’s real around you. But I’ll tell you right now that you’re not crazy. I saw the boy get hit by that bus. And I also saw the jumper in New York.” Laquez’s hopes soared as he shifted in his chair. She knew what was happening to him, and she was there to help. “Then why did you dodge me on both of those occasions? You could have saved

me a lot of stress.” “Well, for one…I didn’t know if you were real or not…or if you were an illusion. I’ve never been confronted by someone experiencing the same thing as me. And I was afraid of what the effect might be.” “So, you thought I was a part of the hallucination.” “Yes.” “Strange. I thought you were an illusion too.” “That still could be a possibility.” Laquez’s hopes were dashed just that quick. “Are you saying you’re not real?” “I’m saying I don’t know what real is anymore.” “Well, what’s your name?” “Xiang. And yours?” “Laquez.” “Cool name.” “Yours too.” They stared analytically at each other for a moment. Laquez broke the silence with a question. “So do you think she’s a reality?” He directed his gaze at the dead woman. “She could be the ultimate reality.” “Huh?” Laquez was lost. “Listen,” she said firmly, “I’m about to tell you something…something that will turn your whole world upside down, even more than it is already. But you must

keep an open mind, and consider…” She stopped herself there when she noticed someone was approaching. It was Laquez’s waitress returning with his order. When she noticed Xiang sitting across from him, her expression turned sour for an instant, but then was replaced by a light smile. “Here you go, Mr. Handsome.” She set his food neatly before him, then looked at Xiang. “Oh, I didn’t know you were dining with someone. Can I get you anything?” “No thank you. In fact, I was just leaving.” Laquez looked at his food and realized he had no appetite. He looked to the waitress, noticing her name tag. “Emily, I’ve decided to get this to go. Sorry for any inconvenience.” The disappointment on her face was clear enough for anyone to see. “Oh, that’s too bad. I was hoping you’d hang around for a while, but it’s no problem.” She began gathering up the food. Once she had it all collected, she fixed her eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.” She cut her eyes at Xiang and walked off. “Seems I ruined someone’s mood. “Yeah. But she saw you,” Laquez said with growing optimism. “She saw you too,” Xiang shot back coyly. “Exactly. Which could only mean that we’re the reality, not that dead woman over there. Emily didn’t even take a glance that way, and neither had anyone else in this restaurant.” “It’s a lot more complicated than that, which is why I want to leave. We need to talk somewhere private, ’cause believe me…the conversation is going to go way far left.” “We can go to my place if you don’t mind.” “That’s fine with me. My place is all the way in Colorado.”

“You’re from Colorado?” Laquez said astonished. “Mm hmm.” “What the hell are you doing this way? And why were you in New York?” “As I said, prepare yourself for a really unusual conversation.” Emily returned with the to-go trays all packed up. Laquez thanked her and gave her a fifty-dollar bill. She thanked him, and he headed out with Xiang. Outside, Laquez walked Xiang to her Ford Explorer. He got in his Aston Martin and pulled out of the parking lot. She followed close behind him. Though there was fear in his heart, he felt a bit of relief because he was not alone in this any longer.

Chapter

27

The instant Laquez pulled into his garage, he rushed through the house to open the front door for Xiang. He saw that she had parked her vehicle on the street and was heading up the walkway. When she entered, he ushered her into the entertainment area. She sat in the chair nearest to her while Laquez headed to the bar. “Would you like a drink?” he asked courteously. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. And you may want to bring the bottle.” Laquez complied wordlessly. He poured two glasses, filling them to the rim. He ed her a drink and took a seat opposite from her. She took a nice swig of her drink, letting it slide down slowly. He followed suit. Then the conversation began. “First,” Xiang said exclusively, “I would like to start by telling you about how all this began for me. Then I’ll tell you what brought me to Stamford on two separate occasions, and to New York last week.” She paused long enough to take a sip of her drink and swallow. “Up until about three weeks ago, I was living what they call the American Dream. I had status as a prestigious psychologist, with a master’s in law. I was filthy rich and, according to most standards, beautiful. I had it all. But there was one thing I lacked, which didn’t seem important or even relevant to me. It was spirituality. I was very egotistical. Then one Friday. All that began to change. I was at my office, going over some patient files when I got a call from my father. He was at the hospital, said he didn’t feel well. I loved my dad. I told him I’d be there in a minute. He told me not to bother, that it wasn’t the reason he called. I asked him what was on his mind, and he said, my spirituality. He said that I was superficial and only valued all the wrong things. He was a Buddhist and believed that nothing in this life was worth all the suffering except love and transcendence, and that I had to find my spirit and die to the flesh.

I thought he was losing his mind. I got really worried, so as soon as I hung the phone up, I rushed to the hospital. But when I got there, he had died. The doctors didn’t know the cause of death and still don’t to this day. I sat in the hospital crying for three hours straight. I wanted to see the body even though I saw it four times that day, just to be sure he was really gone. When I left the hospital, I was distraught, mangled emotionally. I being asked if I needed therapy. Ironic, right?” She sipped her drink again. “Anyway, I went straight home from the hospital. I felt so depressed. When I entered my home, the first thing I noticed was the aroma. Then I noticed that there were lights on which I specifically turned out upon leaving. I thought it must be an intruder, but the aroma was too distinctive. I was really familiar with it because it was my favorite dish: a dish that only my dad knew how to make perfectly. At that point, I moved to the kitchen. When I found my father in there cooking as if nothing happened, I nearly fainted. When he noticed me, he smiled and said the food would be ready in a minute. He said he would set my place at the table.” She became a bit emotional. “Now mind you, I live alone. And though he had the key and free access to my home, he rarely visited because he did not approve of the lifestyle I had adopted. That’s what made it so odd. I sat down at the table. My father sat to my right. We ate together that night, peacefully. The food was terrific. I savored every bite. When we finished the meal, we shared the chore of cleaning the kitchen. We talked afterward. I told him about the phone call and what happened at the hospital. He seemed to think it was a peculiar thing, but we did not dwell on it. That night, he tucked me in, something he had not done since I was fourteen. We embraced. He kissed my cheek, I kissed his. I told him I loved him then fell asleep. When I woke, I thought it was all a dream. My dad had not died and the hospital deal must have been a hallucination. I went down to the kitchen and saw it was spotless. I looked for my dad throughout the house. He was not there. I tried to call him, but there was no answer. From there I rushed to the hospital and demanded to be brought to the morgue repository to view his body.” She took a

huge gulp of her drink this time. “And there he was, as dead as they get. From that point on, things started happening. For a month straight, my dad would suddenly show up. I’d find him in the kitchen where he would cook me a meal. We’d eat, talk, and I’d go to bed. Eventually I got fed up, and I moved here. I chose Stamford because a really good friend of mine invited me to stay with her while I sorted things out. I still own the house in Colorado, everything is still in it. I just haven’t been back since.” “And New York?” Laquez asked intrigued. “Business,” she answered plainly. “A colleague of mine is located in New York and wanted my input on a patient. I needed to experience the patient up close and personal in order to diagnosis the condition.” “So it was just coincidence that we were there at the same time?” “Depends on what you believe.” “Meaning?” “It’s simple,” she said, then swallowed what remained in her glass, “either you believe in coincidences or…that everything happens for a reason.” “Synchronicity?” Laquez smiled. “Perhaps.” “It appears that there is a grand design that brought us together then. I feel it might be necessary for me to share my experience with you.” He opened up to her then, explaining to her as simply as he could the events of the past week. She listened with understanding and empathy. She knew how burdensome the illusions were, not understanding how, or why, and the effect that had on the psyche. When he concluded, she stared at him, contemplating. He allowed her to ponder, without interrupting her thought process while he poured them both another drink. A moment later, the palaver continued. “You know what stands out most to me?”

“What?” “How similar we were, as far as our belief and principles…our focus, our status, our superficiality. We were both very ego-centered people who totally lacked spirituality. We both lost people dear to us prior to the events that marked our delusions, if you will. We both experienced things with our senses that are real only to us. We have both reached that stage where we do not trust our own perceptions of reality.” “And we’re both sharing the same time and space now,” he added. “What do you make of it?” “Oh, there’s definitely a purpose for it.” “What do you believe it is?” “Well, in my case,” she presumed, “to see that I’m not alone.” “And for me?” “I believe I’m here to help you accept.” “Have you?” “Somewhat. But I’m not sure. Sometimes it still freaks me out. But the more of myself I let go, the easier for me to deal. You have to be willing to go to extremes in order to do what I have done.” “Which is?” “Killed the ego.” “But that’s impossible. Even the psychologist I saw yesterday agreed on that.” “For most it is, but it can and has been done.” “Then tell me how it’s done. How does someone detach from their senses, from their identity…from everything ed by logic and reason? From society, family, humanity, in fact…the entire world for that matter, and still be alive?” Her reply came immediate.

“By succumbing to spirituality, by reducing the body to is basic function, which is a shell for the soul. By looking at this reality as fleeting and all those sensations and pleasures as nothing but mere moments of perception. By dying to the flesh to the point of no desire. By focusing on life and the purpose thereof, which is not individualism or self-consuming. By viewing the ego as an inconvenience rather than a barometer to measure others’ worth. By being human, in the sense that you exist only in light of service to others and the only pleasure to be indulged in is the presence of oneness and being.” “How?” Laquez questioned forcefully. “How could that be done?” “By letting go of everything you stand for, and expecting nothing…neither food or drink, night or day, love or hate, good or bad. Or even life or death. Just accept whatever comes your way with an open heart.” “And you’ve done this?” “I have.” “Okay. So right now, are you feeling that drink as you sip it?” “Perhaps.” “Are you feeling its effects as it’s ingested?” “Maybe.” “Are you sitting in that chair talking to me right now?” “It would appear so.” “If I threw my glass and it struck your forehead, would you feel the pain?” “I could.” “Would you bleed?” “Possibly.” “Ah, come on, Xiang!” he yelled with agitation. “You’re smarter than that. You’re a psychologist for Christ’s sake.”

“Laquez,” she said soothingly, “I never said this would be easy to accept. I only said you must accept it.” “I must accept the fact that if I’m enjoying a delicious meal…I’m not really enjoying it? If I’m watching a beautiful sunset, or dawning sky, I’m not really seeing it? If I’m hearing a serious tune…I’m not hearing it? Smelling a pleasant fragrance, not really smelling it? And if I’m making love to thesexiest woman in the world, I’m not really feeling it?” He sighed with disdain. “Now that’s outrageous.” “Perhaps to most.” She dropped her gaze in disappointment then took a sip of her drink. Laquez noticed her disappointment. “So was there anything in this life you enjoyed, physically?” “Of course, there was. But that was before I became aware. It wasn’t my choice, just like it isn’t yours. But since it happened, we either accept, or we collapse. There’s no other option.” “And what have we been chosen for…and by whom?” She looked at him sincerely, her expression grave. “My only guess is the Lord.” “Pa ha ha ha!” Laquez burst into sardonic laughter. “God? Who the fuck is that? A whimsical character that never proves He exists. But you just have to believe, have faith that He does, right?” “That is the reality,” Xiang declared. “To you maybe. And those who believe in that shit. I, for one, never have. So, if God does exist, what sense would it make to choose me?” “I can’t tell you that. But whether you believe it or not, you’re still dealing with some crazy shit, right?” “And if I decide that I’m all set with all this…then what?”

“What do you think?” “I think we need to settle down. Switch the topic and have a simple earthly talk, just for a spell. I feel overloaded. I can’t handle any more of this, at least not this minute.” He looked at her, disturbed. “I need some normalcy.” She smiled then, an extravagant smile. And for the next few hours, they talked about things, pleasures, events, activities that Xiang once enjoyed and that Laquez still did. They joked, they laughed, and it turned out that, not only was Xiang a looker, successful, and brilliant, she also, had a super unique sense of humor and an appealing personality. He felt so comfortable around her, so at ease that he could not help but think of Jesse. They were very similar. They felt the effects of the alcohol and were in jovial moods. They were currently in the kitchen seated at the table, finishing up the last of their cheeseburgers and sweet potato wedges that Laquez had made for them. “You actually are a good cook,” Xiang complimented. “I am a bachelor. Had a lot of practice…a lot of trial and error.” “Mm. Well, I hope someday I can show you how the fine cooking of a bachelorette taste.” “I hope so too.” She ate her last potato wedge. Laquez stood and collected her plate. When he saw Xiang attempting to rise to help, he gestured with his free hand for her to stay seated. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just putting them in the sink, give ’em a quick rinse. Give me something to do tomorrow.” Xiang eased back down in her seat and sipped at the can of soda he had provided with the meal. He returned a moment later and sat back down. “So tell me something, Xiang?” “What?”

“How are you feeling at this very moment?” “Relaxed…comfortable, and full. I guess I’m feeling better than I had in a good while.” “Honestly?” “Yes.” “Well, I feel a bit anxious.” “Why the anxiety?” “Well, for one thing,” he presented, “I’ve been dying to touch you since you first sat at the booth in the café. All this stuff about what’s real or not…makes me want confirmation that you’re really here, that we are sharing the same time and space under more accommodating circumstances.” “And what kind of touch did you have in mind?” she asked, a hint of shyness in her tone. “Are you being fresh?” “No. Not at all.” He was being truthful. “If I could just touch your hand, that would do. Unless, of course, you’re comfortable with that’s a bit more intimate.” He let the connotation hang there. “My comfort level is pretty high right now. And as I’ve said, I accept every moment.” He took that as his cue and wasted no time. He stole the opportunity, moved in close with his lips parted. She parted hers to accept him in. When their mouths met, it was electrifying. There was an intensity that Laquez had never felt before, not even with Jesse. Xiang did not only accept the moment, she became it. ion could not express the emotion and skill she used in perfecting the ultimate kiss. Laquez tried his best to match her desire, but fell short. He did not yet know how to be the moment as she did. But he knew he did not want the moment to end. The kiss ended, but the moment did not.

When they parted their eyes met, sending an unspoken message of “why stop there.” Without a word, he led her by the hand upstairs to his bedroom. There they made sweet love. Xiang led; Laquez just went along. This experience of lovemaking was so foreign to him that he knew then that he would never have another moment like this one. Xiang was special, an expert at lovemaking. She exposed a true art to him. As the night wound on and dusk approached, when they were finally spent, Laquez could not help but voice what was on his mind. As they lay there in a soft caress, the words slipped from his lips. “Are you really serious about considering what we just shared as nothing more than an illusion…a split moment in time?” Her answer stunned him, hitting him like a solid blow to the face. “I already have. But I did enjoy the moment.” She kissed his chest softly, with tenderness. “Now…go to sleep.” Laquez thought about her words, how she felt in his arms, how fulfilling their lovemaking had been, and the feelings that he had quickly developed for this woman. He desperately hoped for something to happen that would change her mindset, that she would return to the only reality that made sense. The reality of the flesh. He fell asleep with that hope lingering in his heart.

Chapter

28

The next day, Laquez awoke feeling a bit discombobulated. He wasn’t quite hungover, but he did feel out of sorts. He ed having a lot to drink. He also ed a dynamic episode of lovemaking. He ed Xiang. She was gone. Instantly he was wide awake and focused. He sat up in bed, stifled. “Xiang!” he yelled casually. “Xiang!” Still no answer. He looked around the room for any evidence that she had been there, an item of clothing, a pair of woman’s pumps, anything. But there was nothing. He jumped out of bed, saw his boxers on the floor, and put them on. He headed out of the room and rushed down the hall to the bathroom. She was not there. Neither was the pile of wet clothes he left there for verification that he had showered in them the other day. In a semi-frantic state, he went through his entire house yelling her name. When he got to the kitchen, he saw that she was not there either. There were no dishes in the sink, no evidence that they had drinks, nothing. He felt anxiety rising, and panic was welling up rapidly. His heart thudded in his chest. If it turned out that last night was one of his episodes, he knew, with certainty, he would end his life. He looked around for a note, something she may have left, a telephone number where she could be reached. There was nothing. He returned to the kitchen and plopped down on the stool. His mind was in shambles. It was too much. He ed every word of their talk, how easily they connected on every level.

Yet she had left or, even worse, had never really been there at all. If this was what he had to look forward to, the only life he could experience, a life where nothing was as it seemed and reality was an illusion, then he didn’t want it. With that in mind, he consciously made his decision. He would end his life right then. His eyes fell upon the knife holder a few feet away from him resting on the counter. How convenient. He grabbed one of the knives from the case, a Ginsu, very sharp. He examined the blade and deemed it suitable for the purpose he had in mind. He laid his left arm on the counter, palms up, and without hesitating, he sliced deep into his wrist vertically, severing the artery, then pulled the blade all the way up to his forearm. The blood cascaded out like a sink overflowing. He repeated the process on his right arm shortly after. Blood poured forth from that wound as well. With the deed done, he set the knife down and rested both his arms on the table, palms up, and watched as the blood and his life flowed out of him. He closed his eyes and welcomed that long good night. But it didn’t come. His eyes snapped open and began scanning the ceiling. He did not feel weak. He felt no wetness or pain. Upon further inspection, he noticed he was no longer sitting up but lying down. His legs were elevated, and his body lay flat on the mattress. He sat up, jolted into alertness. He looked at his arms, and there were no wounds. Even more troubling, he found himself still in bed. He looked on the floor and spotted his boxers in the same place they had been when he awoke earlier to find Xiang gone. He had another episode. He couldn’t even kill himself in this reality or any other. That put a different spin on things. If he couldn’t do any harm to himself, if everything he did, no matter the severity, was merely illusory, a figment of a delusional reality, then there were no holds barred. He could do whatever he

wanted. Perhaps there was a plus side to it all. If that was so, he knew exactly what he would do with this newfound proclamation. He hopped out of bed enthusiastically. He gathered up all the clothes that littered the floor and threw them in the hamper. Without bothering to put anything on, he headed straight to the shower. He believed he finally understood everything and had a handle on exactly how to deal with things from that point on. He jumped in the shower and washed thoroughly. For some reason, his chest wound didn’t hurt where he was shot days ago. When he got out, he felt coaxed and focused. This day would prove to be the turning point, one of great significance. He felt it in every fiber of his being. After drying off, he walked to his bedroom, stark naked. He made his bed. With that done, he chose his attire. It was specific, strictly for high roller occasions. He dressed in a very expensive suit, a two-piece suit made special for him. It was charcoal gray with a sheen. He chose a white Armani silk tie, his belt, gorilla skin leather. He chose an exquisite white dress shirt from Spain and topnotch black loafers. Eyeing himself in his full-length mirror he saw, and it was good. He looked like money, which was what he was shooting for. Downstairs, he grabbed his cell phone and his keys. It was certainly an Aston Martin day. He pulled out of his driveway and into the street. He smiled brightly. He would make a statement today. It would be a moment to , no matter how fleeting. He let the car roll. The day was lovely, sunny, and bright, warm. He had one stop to make, and after that, he would be off to his final destination.

Chapter

29

Laquez arrived at Dyvee’s house at around 10:15 a.m. He did not call because he didn’t want to let him know he intended to stop by. It would be a surprise visit. He hoped to catch him off guard. Laquez knocked on his door. Dyvee answered a minute later, took one look at him, and his eyes widened. He began beaming, smiling as he looked him up and down approvingly. “What do we have here?” he asked, astounded. Laquez smiled arrogantly. “What’s up man? What’s the occasion? And why the unexpected visit?” Laquez could see that his detective senses were alerted. There was a touch of suspicion, but mostly curiosity. Laquez needed to quench any skepticism if he was to be successful obtaining what he came there to get. “I got big plans for today,” Laquez replied, excited. “So, you like the threads?” “Man, you look smooth.” “That’s what I’m going for.” “But what’s up? What’s this all about?” “Well, I was just in the neighborhood and decided to stop in…tell you the night I had in person.” “Must’ve been some night.” “Oh, it was.” He stood there, smiling. “You gonna let me in or what?” “Oh, shit! Sorry man. You just really caught me off guard.” He stepped aside to allow Laquez in. “Come on in man. I wasn’t doing too much of anything anyway. You want something to drink?”

“No. I’m all set for now.” “So, tell me about this great night.” Laquez had been to Dyvee’s house on many occasions. Every time he came, they either sat out on the patio, or one of the four dens Dyvee furnished to entertain friends, one of which displayed his exclusive gun collection. He was very proud of it. Since he had no children, the weapons were displayed in a glass case, unlocked. That was where Laquez told him he wanted to talk. Laquez led the way. They entered the den and sat down on the tan sectional. There was a solid oak table in the center of the area, enclosed by the U-shaped sectional. Beyond that was the gun collection. Once Laquez was seated, Dyvee walked over and squatted about a foot away. He was smiling. Then he looked at Laquez attentively. “So, tell me, what’s got you all spruced up?” He told him then, in detail, about the other night. He left out the part about this morning’s delusion. He didn’t want to put him on edge. He needed him to be completely at ease and unsuspecting. When he concluded his story, he saw that Dyvee was really happy for him. “When do you plan on seeing her again?” “What you think all this is for?” He gestured to his debonair appearance. “Ohhh! Now I see what the deal is. I’m truly happy for you man. And you do look and seem a lot better.” “I feel a lot better. I guess it’s all about acceptance. And Xiang definitely made things a lot clearer for me.” “The good thing is at least you know it’s not just you who experienced that. There are others out there with the same, affliction or…disorder. Depending on how you look at it.”

“That’s her perception as well.” “I’d really like to meet her. Is there any chance you could bring her by tonight?” “I’ll certainly run it by her.” “What do you have planned anyway?” “I have no idea. Just gonna let it flow.” “Well, you’ve already broken the ice.” “Oh, did we.” Dyvee looked at him, intrigued. “Was it really that good?” “Even better. I’ve never had anything even remotely close to it in all my years.” “That’s a heavy statement. You’ve been with every type of woman there is.” “Yeah, I know.” “And she’s Asian?” “Japanese, to be precise.” “I mean, where’d she get the skills, the techniques?” “I have no idea. But I believe it has a lot to do with living in the moment.” “That’s deep,” Dyvee said thoughtfully. “Makes me want Japanese.” Both men laughed heartily. When the laughter subsided, Laquez made a request. “Hey, Dyvee.” When Dyvee looked up, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, Laquez continued, “You mind getting me that drink?” “Not at all. What would you like?” “A ginger ale if you got it.”

“Sure do. Anything else?” “Nope.” “All right,” Dyvee said as he rose to retrieve the beverage. “Be right back.” Laquez waited till he was completely out of sight then moved swiftly to the gun case. He knew that Dyvee kept all of his guns fully loaded, safety on, with nothing in the chamber. He also knew how meticulous he was when it came to his collection. If he didn’t hurry up and make his move and get out of the house, Dyvee would find some excuse to examine his prized collection and he would notice that one was missing. That would ruin everything. Quickly he removed the gun, a .40-caliber, then shut the sliding doors to the gun case. He tucked the gun in the small of his back, deep enough so that his belt held it firmly in place. Then he moved stealthily back to where he was and sat down. Seconds later, Dyvee returned with the soda. He handed it to Laquez and sat beside him. Laquez opened the bottled and began taking small sips. “So what time are you meeting up with her?” Dyvee inquired. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Dyvee had just given him his way out. Laquez looked at his watch and feigned being late. “Oh, crap!” he exclaimed with exaggerated movement. “I’m supposed to meet her in twenty-five minutes.” He stood up then and moved toward the door. Dyvee stood too, with urgency. “Where are you meeting her?” “Stamford Park.” “Shit,” Dyvee blurted. “There’s no way you’ll make it there in twenty-five minutes.” Both men moved with haste to the front door. Laquez exited the house, thought about turning to face Dyvee before he hit the steps but decided against it. He needed to avoid an embrace from his friend at this point. He rushed down the steps, and when he was right by his car door, and saw that Dyvee wasn’t trailing

him, he turned and waved. He was relieved to find Dyvee still standing on his porch. “I’ll call you later on. Hopefully she’s with me.” “All right man. Have fun!” “I will.” Laquez was in his car heading away from Dyvee’s house. He felt bad for taking the gun without permission. If he would have asked, Dyvee would have refused. Or he would’ve wanted to know why and that would have raised suspicion. Laquez’s mental state was sketchy by any normal standards, and according to Dyvee, Laquez with a gun was a recipe for disaster. It was just a matter of time before Dyvee noticed the gun was missing. Once he discovered that, he would be out on the hunt for Laquez. He knew that within the next half hour, he would be blowing his phone up for sure. He hoped to reach his destination by then and complete what he set out to do. Then it would be over. That moment of reality gone. And it would have only been an illusion.

Chapter

30

Laquez arrived at Stamford National Park forty-five minutes later. It was exactly 12:00 p.m. The park was busy. People were everywhere, all enjoying their day. Some were picnicking, some riding bikes or jogging, some strolling hand in hand, and others sat together in the grass. There were people reading on park benches, and some played Frisbee or catch, soccer. There were children everywhere playing. The laughter and mirth could be felt throughout the park. It was the perfect setting for what he had planned. He got out of his vehicle and casually walked as if, he, too, was planning to enjoy the serene atmosphere. He observed the people nearest him. They gave off a vibe of pure contentment. He wondered if they knew they were only experiencing an illusion, one that would soon end in an instant. He also considered if they even existed at all. He came to the conclusion that life was surreal. The people around him, this very moment in time, were delusions, so no matter what happened, or how crazy things became, once the moment ended, it would have never occurred. He understood what Xiang had explained clearly. It made him recall what Dr. Su lon had theorized to him about true perception of reality. It really was open for interpretation. His interpretation. He smiled then. He liked that he could take a moment of reality and make his own. All those people existed only because he willed them to be there, even if only subconsciously. They were there because he was aware of them. The instant he decided to disregard their existence, they would cease to be. As far as his ego, it was still with him, which is why he decided to do what he was preparing to do. Because of his ego, he was conflicted. His ego felt threatened, but instead of being destroyed by the revelations given to him by Dr. Su lon and then Xiang, it fought back. It told him that this world, this reality was

possible because he was perceiving it, not the other way around. He had desired the flesh, had known nothing but the flesh. People were trying to convince him that the body was deceiving him. He would show reality who was boss. Laquez Fortell was all that existed. And everything else was irrelevant. The moment of truth had come. A truth exclusively designed by him. In that moment, he pulled the .40-caliber out, brandishing it for all to see. He cocked it. Then he aimed it at a little boy who played about ten feet from him and pulled the trigger. The bullet smashed into the back of the kid’s head, caving in the skull as it blew out his eye and a portion of his face as it exited. The boy dropped dead, blood pooled around his head as he lay facedown in the grass. Then the pandemonium started. People began screaming and running for cover. Laquez stood there, looking at the boy as if he were nothing more than a dead squirrel. “Damn!” he said ecstatically. “That would be crazy in real life.” He heard a man shout. “You bastard!” Next thing he knew, the man was charging at him in a rage. Laquez raised the pistol, waited till the man got within five feet, then blasted him right through the heart. The bullet, along with bloody organs, burst out of his back. The impact forced him back a few feet. He hit the ground dead. “Ky yah!” Laquez howled joyously. “It’s just like in the movies.” From the left, he spotted another man trying to sneak up on him. When Laquez turned and the man realized he was caught, he raised his hands in surrender. “Please,” he said nervously. “Don’t shoot.” “Too late,” Laquez quipped comically. Then he shot the man in the face. The bullet shattered his cheekbone and burst out the back of his neck.

“Ohhh!” Laquez cheered. “That was fantastic. Ha ha! Who’s next?” He spied a group of four women and three children running for cover toward the surrounding trees. He tracked them like a true hunter and mercilessly gunned them all down. All four women were shot in the back as they fled. The children froze with fright and were all executed with head shots. He looked down, entranced, while standing over their bodies, beads of perspiration covered his brow. He was jubilant. The carnage he was creating not only energized him but also aroused him as well. It wasn’t the killing that enticed and captivated him, but the fact that he was altering a reality, manipulating a moment in time that would be over when he decided. When the hallucination was over, he would probably find himself in bed or something, still looking at that pair of boxer briefs. But for the moment, he would enjoy his creation of chaos. He looked at the gun he was holding and wondered how many more bullets he had left. He popped the clip out and found that there were still five rounds left. He reinserted it knowing that there was still one in the chamber. That left six rounds total. Six more kills if his aim was on. He returned to kill mode. He raced deeper into the park and tracked down two unsuspecting joggers, both wearing earbuds and listening to music. He crept up behind them and executed one with a single shot to the back of the head. The woman’s forehead was blown out. The male saw her brains spray and burst out of her skull. He turned to be confronted by a bullet smashing through his temple, which blasted out of the other side, taking his last thoughts with it. Two teenagers saw the massacre and started screaming for help. That got Laquez’s attention. When their eyes met his, the fear was so thick, it was palpable. Laquez felt his adrenaline surge. He was psyched that he could induce such intense fear in people just by a simple act of violence. He felt empowered, God-like even. “Don’t be afraid,” he cooed as he moved closer to them. Reflexively they retreated. “This isn’t really happening.” He sped after them, aiming the gun at the male teenager. “It’s just an illusion.”

He pulled the trigger and caught the boy in the side. He collapsed, groaning in pain. The girl continued to sprint till a bullet crashed into her lower spine, obliterating it. She hit the ground, paralyzed. Laquez walked nonchalantly up to her and peered down. She lay there shaking, unconscious. She appeared to be dying, and for a quick second, Laquez felt a tinge of remorse, even sympathy. He shook it off swiftly, justifying with the fact that it wasn’t really happening. The delusion would end soon. It was just a matter of time. He heard them then. The sirens approaching. The cops had been notified and were on their way. Soon they would be there with their guns drawn, playing their part in his created drama. He looked around at the blood and death he had brought about. It looked significant even if it was only in that moment. He had certainly made a statement. It was time for the conclusion. He walked over to the nearest bench and calmly sat down. When the cops arrived, he knew he would be facing a firing squad. None of that mattered though because he was immortal. And all the chaos would end as soon as the moment did. The police arrived in a frenzy. He could hear the panicked shouts of pedestrians giving his location away. It was at that moment that he noticed a presence to his right. When he looked, he saw it was Xiang. She approached him with conviction, disappointment evident in her eyes. He found that he was not at all surprised to see her. In fact, he expected her, for his delusion would not have been complete, his statement not as prominent if she were not there to witness it. When she was close enough to the bench, she sat beside him and looked intensely in his eyes. He returned her gaze. “This was not what you were supposed to do,” she said, sympathetic. “This is not how it was supposed to end.” “End?” Laquez repeated emphatically. “Who said anything about it ending? It’s actually just beginning. When this moment ends, I’ll just create another.” “You’re wrong Laquez. You got it all wrong. You don’t understand. You were

supposed to accept, not create.” “But I’m in control now.” “You can’t control this. Don’t you see? Your ego is defending itself. It will end up destroying you.” The police arrived. They began surrounding him, guns aimed and ready. They spread out and took cover where cover was possible. “Looks like the show must continue,” Laquez said, fixated. “My show.” “But it’s anything but,” Xiang pointed out. “It’s too bad you’re too blinded to see that.” “To see what?” he snapped coldly. “There’s nothing to see because there’s nothing really happening. It’s all delusion…You’re a delusion…Last night, a fucking delusion!” “No, Laquez, you’re not comprehending how this works. You’re trying to rationalize, to justify the unjustifiable. You have to let go. You have to accept.” “Accept what? Huh? That my life is based on surreal events and fleeting experiences? That I only exist because I believe that I do?” He was fuming. “That my senses are instruments of manipulation that the ego uses to make itself important, when it truly doesn’t exist?” “I know it’s hard Laquez. I know you have your doubts, but this is wrong.” “What’s wrong? I’ve done nothing…at least, according to your theory. All these people that appear dead, that I killed, are merely a perception. All the cops are only here because I’m aware of them.” The cops were closing in, circling him. One of the officers began shouting to him. “Sir, please throw down your weapon, get on your knees, and place your hands behind your head! You are completely surrounded! We will use force if you don’t comply right now!”

“Oh, yeah?” Laquez challenged. “Well, you’re not really here. I control your existence! So shut up with the threats!” The officer appeared dumbfounded by his reply. He looked at the officers nearest to him, uncertain if he’d heard Laquez right. “Sir, again drop your weapon. You obviously need help. We can get it for you, but you have to comply. Throw down your weapon.” “It’s not polite to make demands,” Laquez returned defiantly. “And you’re not in a position to do so. And where’s your manners? Don’t you see I’m talking to this beautiful lady? No…scratch that,” he corrected. “She’s just part of my reality, not yours.” He turned back to Xiang. The officers looked at him peculiarly. “I feared this would happen,” Xiang commented sadly. “What?” “That you would not be able to accept as I have.” “But I have accepted. I accepted that I’m in control.” “You don’t get!” she yelled with frustration. “There’s nothing to get.” “You don’t control or create reality. It creates you. Circumstances design people, people don’t design circumstances. You don’t choose to be born, you just are. You don’t choose your parents, your gender, your skin color, your appearance, your hair or eye color. And you don’t choose who you fall in love with. It just happens, or it doesn’t.” She was desperately trying to get through to him. “We choose to converse, we choose careers. But we do not choose our physical existence. That is chosen for us. We are not in control of much of anything.” “I beg to differ,” he stated in opposition. “I’m choosing this moment. I’m creating and controlling it. Even you can’t deny that.” She looked helplessly at him. He did have a point.

“It may appear that way to you at the moment. But what about the next? Will you be able to control what your actions have created? Will you be able to absorb the consequences?” “What consequences?” he asked, quizzical. “In a second, this will all be over, and I’ll be creating a new moment.” “I promise you Laquez, this will not end well for you. You will find that you were wrong, about everything. And rather than being in control…you will see just how much you’ve lost it.” At that moment, another officer ran up. Laquez recognized him immediately. Dyvee moved up to the front of the line of cops, shouting orders to the officers not to shoot. He scanned the area, eyeing each officer until he felt their cooperation. He took in all the bloodshed, then he looked toward the bench where his friend was seated. Their eyes met, and his began to mist. Laquez appeared to be calm, composed as if he were just sitting on a bench having a nice quiet afternoon in the park and hadn’t just massacred fourteen innocent people; women and children were among the casualties. His eyes fell upon the woman sitting on the bench right next to Laquez. He saw that she was Asian. She fit the description Laquez had given him earlier. Xiang. He couldn’t fathom what could have possibly caused his friend to flip out and go on a murdering spree. It had to be that woman who inspired it. It became clear to Dyvee that Laquez had come to his house for the sole purpose of obtaining a firearm. He had planned this whole thing. The woman must have corrupted his mind, maybe even drugged him. It was she who put this whole crazy idea in his already distorted mind. That’s why she was sitting beside him on the bench. She was his accomplice. Something didn’t feel right about that theory though. When he studied her expression, it was sympathy and sadness he saw. She could possibly be a hostage. He noticed that tears trickled down her cheeks. He moved closer. Laquez smiled as he neared.

“Hey, cous, what’s up?” he said, enthused. “Laquez, what happened man?” His tone was solemnly sympathetic. “What?” Laquez said indifferent. “Oh, this?” he said gesturing with the hand that didn’t hold the pistol. “It’s nothing. Sorry I took your gun though. I promise it will be back in its place at your house in a few minutes. It’ll be like none of this ever happened.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about this reality illusion.” “Laquez,” Xiang cut in sternly, “you really don’t understand. It’s not an illusion. This is reality. There will be consequences.” Laquez eyed Xiang surreptitiously. Then he looked back to Dyvee. He noticed that Dyvee had heard Xiang and was actually looking at her. He was befuddled and surprised at the same time. “Hey, Dyv…you can see Xiang?” “Of course I can. I’m just not sure what her role is in all this.” Xiang paid no attention to Dyvee. Her focus remained on Laquez even as he spoke. “Did she put you up to this? Did she drug you or something? Or is she a hostage?” “Oh, no. Nothing like that. She’s no hostage.” He thought about it. “But, then again…she’s probably not really here. Just like you’re not either…or those cops, those bodies…or even me.” Damn! Dyvee thought. This is exactly what happened at the hospital after Tasa shot him. He believed that Laquez had lapsed into that deranged state where he thought that nothing was real, that it was all in his head. He was acting out a scenario that he perceived as a delusion, yet was indeed an actual reality. This was bad. It would not end well for Laquez. Dyvee’s main concern was to see to it that his friend at least came out of this alive.

“Laquez,” he began gently, “you’re not well, but we can get you some help. Things will get better, but you have to drop the gun and surrender. Please, Laquez, I’m begging you, as your friend, your brother. Put the gun down and come to me. I promise I won’t let nothing happen to you.” Dyvee took a few steps closer. “I appreciate your concern. And I even see why you’d be confused,” Laquez informed. “But the reality of it is I control this moment. Not you, not them.” He referred to the cops taking aim at him. “Not Xiang. I created this. So you see, it ends when I’m ready for it to end.” “Laquez,” Xiang intervened with urgency, “this isn’t your reality. No one possesses, controls, or creates reality. You either accept the moment or you don’t. Your ego has deceived you. And now you have only complicated things by making an already dire situation much, much worse. You’re the one who’s confused. And because of that confusion, you have misconstrued the whole reality perception. Now you will experience a harsh awakening that you brought about by not accepting. Rules apply on every level of existence, and you have broken those rules on a very eminent plane. But it’s not too late, Laquez. Fight your ego.” Dyvee eyed Xiang with reverence and graciousness. She was attempting to dissuade him into accepting what he wanted his friend to consider. She, too, was basically trying to keep him from committing suicide. He had committed unspeakable atrocities that he would certainly have to answer for. The consequences would be life altering, but the punishment not nearly as severe due to his current mental condition. Dyvee would be the first to testify and vouch for his lack of sanity, which would certainly help him in a court of law. “Laquez, we only want what’s best for you,” he added. “We care about you. It’s not too late. It will take time, but we’ll get through this.” “Actually,” Laquez rebuked, “it’s you both who have got it all wrong. There is only the flesh, the body. Therefore, the ego is God. Nothing is real unless I perceive it to be. And this is how I can prove it.” He raised the gun, pointing the barrel directly at Dyvee’s head. Dyvee saw the other officers readying their weapons. What he feared most was about to happen.

“Noooooo!” Xiang shouted hysterically. “Laquez, don’t!” “Hold your fire!” Dyvee shouted. “Don’t shoot, goddamn it! Don’t shoot! Hold your fire!” His arms were raised, spread out like he was holding back a crowd. “Laquez! Please don’t do this?” Laquez stared at Dyvee, detached. There was clearly a mental battle occurring inside his head. He was a storm of emotional turmoil and psychological stress. “Don’t you see?” he remarked. “It’s not real. This isn’t really happening. It isn’t reality. It’s an illusion.” At that point, he raised his other hand, placing it on the butt of the gun to steady his aim. His palm just touched the butt when the first bullet crashed into his brow, over his left eye. It caved in where the bullet struck, and the gun he held fell to the ground. His body began to go limp. Another bullet struck his right cheekbone simultaneously, shattering that side of his face, taking brain and skull with it as it exited the back of his head. Numerous bullets slammed into his chest and stomach area at the same time. Dyvee screamed orders to cease fire, trying his best to inform them of the pedestrian sitting on the bench by Laquez. Miraculously, when the shooting stopped, she was unharmed. She didn’t even seem scared. She wasn’t in shock or hysterical. She was just sad. He could relate. Laquez’s body hit the bench and slumped to the left, sagging. Xiang stared at him with longing and a deep sense of loss. Laquez’s cell phone slipped from his pocket then, landing on the bench near his hunched body. In that instant, Xiang stood, took one last look at the corpse that was once Laquez Fortell, and began strutting directly toward Dyvee. He stared at her as she approached, blinking the tears from his eyes. The expression on her face changed from hurt to contentment. She moved with purpose, her eyes not once settling on Dyvee. She proceeded onward and ed by him so close, he could smell her scent as clearly as he could smell gun smoke. But she still paid him no mind, like he

didn’t exist. His eyes followed her, as did his head and body. She did not look back or even remotely acknowledge him. Dyvee turned back to the bench and was startled to find that Laquez’s body had totally vanished. He looked to his left frantically, then to his right. There wasn’t a single police officer around. His eyes scanned the area looking for proof that what he had just witnessed had actually occurred. There wasn’t a single dead body in the area. He saw that people were enjoying a nice peaceful day in the park, oblivious to prior events. Nothing was amiss, no screaming, no panic, no death. With extreme dread, Dyvee looked back over his shoulder then turned all the way around when he could not locate Xiang, who had just walked by him mere seconds ago. The distance in any direction was too great for her to cover in the time it took for him to look back. He should not have lost sight of her. But she was gone, nonetheless. “Say a prayer and let the good times roll…in case…God doesn’t show…” He turned swiftly toward the bench. His gaze fell on the cell phone that dropped from Laquez’s pocket a short while ago. He became creeped out. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His dread rose like high blood pressure. He approached the bench slowly, fearfully. The closer he got, the faster his heart beat. He reached the bench and stared down at the cell phone. Its ringing was persistent to the point it appeared to be beckoning to him. He was leery to answer but was too compelled not to do so. He reached down with a shaky hand and picked the phone up and viewed the caller ID. When he saw what the screen displayed, he nearly dropped the phone in fright. His mouth became so dry that he couldn’t even swallow. The caller ID said that Jesse was calling. Dyvee answered before he realized what he had done. “Hello?” he said in a timid voice. “Hi, babbyyy!” Jesse’s voiced screeched exuberantly. “I know you’re probably pissed at me for not returning your calls and missing the funeral, but I had this

thing in Albany, with my family blah, blah, blah. But anyway, I’m on my way back now, and I can’t wait to make it all up to you.” Dyvee was blown away, taken so far aback that he was rendered speechless. He knew her voice. There was no mistaking it was her. But it was impossible. She was dead. He had spoken to her family. They had come and identified her body. He saw her in the morgue. “Jesse?” was all he managed to get out. “Of course, it’s me silly. Who else?” she said, frazzled. “Why do you sound different?” Dyvee dropped the cell. It hit the bench, bounced, and landed upright, with the screen facing the sky. Jesse’s voice boomed from the speaker loud enough for him to hear every word she was saying. “Laquez? Baby? Are you still there? Laquez? Laquez?” Her voice echoed in his mind, but that wasn’t where his focus was. What kept replaying in his head, dominating all other thoughts, sounds, and stimuli were the last words Laquez had spoken before he was shot to death. It’s not real. It’s an illusion. Dyvee went numb.

Epilogue

Reality is what you make it. Therefore…it’s totally the perception of the beholder. Though I have trouble trusting in God, I do believe that all the answers are within us, accessible only when we truly submit to Him. The truth of our existence, of God, is not in doctrine, the church, laws, rules, traditions, or principles alone, but in us in relation to the God concept. We stress and we point fingers at the Creator for all the torment, suffering, and pain that we bring upon ourselves, through our experiences with our senses, which are so limited. Meanwhile, we don’t see that the truth is it’s only happening on this plane of existence, which makes it an illusion, one that will as swiftly as this present moment. I believe that in the end, we will find that God is love and mercy and is the only thing that is authentic in this so-called reality. Normalcy is a myth. Independence, a distraction. And individualism, a curse. Race is just as imaginary as a five-year-old’s pretend friend. These concepts are and have been signs of how well-conditioned society is by the powers that be to the point of total acceptance of the ideals and concepts that mean nothing to the spirit or the soul. As G. K. Chesterton once said, “Once abolish the God…and the government becomes the God.” Now I could be wrong. I’ve considered that. Mankind does have a serious hope of continued existence and will accept anything as long as there’s a promise of a renewed, extended, and happy life beyond death.

But even if I’m wrong, I’d rather die believing than rebellious and in denial. ’Cause if God does exist, and there is an eternal life, then I want in. And if he doesn’t, at least I spent my existence in a way that was beneficial. As far as my legacy, who cares. I’ll be dead. It won’t matter to me then. And I can live or, better yet, die with that. And trust me, we’ll be dead a lot longer than we’ll be alive.

The End