He takes a seat behind the desk across from where I’m sitting. His movements are slightly jerky.
“You’re gonna kill me. You gotcha gloves. I have shecurity cameras on my propershy, and they won’t be easy to hack.” He is slurring his words. The chemical is taking effect.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. One of my MC brothers is a beast when it comes to computer shit. You have no idea what he’s capable of. So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they are recording on a loop that cannot be detected even with the best security systems and analysts.”
“I’ve waited five years to get revenshhh.”
“It’s starting to take effect. Good.”
“Whash take ufh-ufh-fect?”
“Your bourbon, scotch, and cognac are laced with a liquid that removes all your willpower and self-control. You have no control over your actions, only your thoughts. Everything that I tell you to do, you will do it.”
“Whash . . . whash happenin’?”
“You’re being controlled by the drug in your system. When they perform the autopsy, they won’t be able to detect it because it’s untraceable. Even if they knew what to look for, they wouldn’t find it. Now, here’s what you’re going to do. Open that drawer on the right side of your desk and remove the pen and paper.”
I watch as he does what I ask. I continue walking him through the instructions of writing a suicide note, detailing how he knows he needs to be held responsible for his wife’s murder.
When he finishes the note, he reaches back inside the drawer and removes the gun waiting in there for him. It’s his gun, and there is one in the chamber. He lifts the gun to his head.
“Any final words?” I ask.
“Don’t do dis,” he pleads.
“Nice parting words. Pull the trigger, my nigga.”
He closes his eyes, pulls the trigger, and his body slumps sideways.
I sigh and pull out my phone to make a call. “Hey. My work here is done.”
I end my call with Keeper and head out. I’m ready to go see my babies.
“Chaos! Chaos! Come in here, babe!” Charisma shrieks loudly.
“I’ll be back, li’l G,” I sign to CJ. I toss the controller aside and race out of the second bedroom that I decorated for CJ. We have spent most of the evening playing video games, while Charisma is in the kitchen cooking dinner for us.
“Aye. Ya li’l ass gonna have to chill with all that noise. I told you they’re gonna start leasing the rest of these apartments out in six months. You gotta get used to it,” I state, walking toward where she’s standing in the center of the living room.
She has an apron on, a dab of red sauce on her cheek, and a flour-coated spoon dangling from her hand. She’s staring at the TV in disbelief but slowly turns her gaze to me.
“What is it?”
“He’s . . . he’s dead, Chrishon.”
I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her. Resting my chin on the top of her head, I mumble, “Mm.”
She doesn’t say anything but continues listening to the news about how Senator Benjamin Starling was found by a groundskeeper yesterday, dead from a single gunshot wound to the head. They go on to state that there was a note found at the scene of the crime, and he had left all his belongings to his wife’s sister and his child. Detectives are ruling it a suicide in an open and shut case.
When the news turns to people who knew him, expressing how they were shocked at this recent turn of events, I take the remote from her hand and mute the TV. I spin Charisma around and wrap my arms around her waist.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t know. I guess some would say that I should have seen this coming, but I’m still shocked, I guess.”
“Why?”
“His death isn’t shocking. The fact that he took his own life is shocking. He was so arrogant in some ways, and this isn’t what I would have expected.”
