Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Turning around, I crashed into his chest.
“Fuck!”
“Arsenio?” I grabbed him, realizing immediately what he ran all this way to do. “What are you doing here? We said—”
“Fuck what we said!”
His shouting drew stares.
“I was waiting for him to show up at the arboretum. Smart little shit had you get in his car.” He walked off like he was going to run after the long-gone Jeremy.
“Arsenio.”
Spinning on me, he said, “You’ll set up another meet tomorrow. Tell him it’s important and you can’t say it over the phone. Get him—”
“Easy.” I reached for his temples.
Arsenio snatched my wrists, eyes flashing. “I’m not Cairo.”
I flicked to those watching, lowering my voice. “You’re not Cairo. He’s impulsive, unpredictable, and as likely to shake a stranger’s hand as he is to bite his ear off. But you...” Gently, I pulled free, sliding down his heaving chest. His heart banged wildly against my palm. “You’re calm and patient, and always wait for your moment. The Crows won’t get away with what they did, baby, but we both know this is not the moment.”
The chilling ice in his eyes hadn’t melted, but he was listening.
“We will get him back, I promise. Right now, you have to get your mind off it. I left campus between classes and got something to make you feel better.” I touched my backpack. “Take me somewhere private, so I can give it to you.”
“Unless you’ve got my father’s 1957 Chevrolet Corvette in that bag, you’ve got nothing I want, de Souza.”
I weathered the sting, facing him head-on. “You haven’t seen it yet. Tell me where we’re going.”
We locked in a staredown. Even our audience wanted to know the outcome, which Arsenio finally noticed. Glaring at those watching, he strode off, the grip on my arm leading me behind.
“It’s not far,” he clipped.
I was quiet on our walk off campus. I could ask where we were going, but I’d find out soon enough.
We arrived at a crosswalk and veered left for the square. People were out like they were most days. At this time, it was couples basking in a stolen moment, sharing lunch and quick kisses by the fountain. I could almost imagine myself in that scene with Arsenio, Cairo, Jacques, Roan, or Legend, if a collar was around my neck.
This didn’t stir the sadness some thought it should. That wasn’t the kind of relationship that we were in, and with each day I spent with them, I was glad of it. It wasn’t just anyone who could get Legend to open up like he did the night before. It wasn’t anyone Arsenio would’ve taken with him the night he visited Verlice, and it wasn’t just any girlfriend that put Cairo in a situation where he thought there was a choice between me and his father, and he admitted he couldn’t make it.
What we had between us was twisted, raw, violent, and a little dangerous, but it was real. I’d take that over sushi in the square.
Arsenio took me down Clifton Street. I realized where we were going three houses down.
“The mayor’s house?”
“Also known as my house.”
“Is your mom home?”
“You asked for alone.”
We stepped up the flower-lined drive and let ourselves in. I swept around as Arsenio tugged me along.
A bright, open-floor living room was done up by a tasteful hand. I could see the mayor entertaining guests huddled around the grand piano, or sharing appetizers on the plush white couches.
We turned a corner into the living room and I slowed down. This was where Arsenio Creed grew up. The photos of the chubby, curly-haired baby proved it. In a dozen pictures, he smiled or waved at me. Then, he grew, shedding the plump cheeks and onesies for little suits, bow ties, and the serious expression to match.
Farther down the wall we went, adding a young Roan and Cairo. Quickly the other photos added Legend and Jacques. A pic of the five of them in Bedlam High uniforms, smirking or grinning at the camera, made me glad I was farm-schooled. To have these guys dominating me during my formative years would’ve stolen the little time I had left with my innocence.
“It’s so cute how your mom has a wall of you. Where are the photos of your parents?”
He motioned toward the stairs.
True enough, we climbed the steps and went on another journey through the years. The bottom showed the faces of a sweet young couple, beaming from faded photographs. The higher we climbed, the older they got, till they were married, then expecting their first child.
“You look just like your dad,” I said.
His grip tightened on me, but he didn’t reply.
Marjorie Creed was the mayor, which meant her past became an official backstory instead of her personal business. Everyone knew the daughter of a white mother and Black father left Bedlam to attend college in New York, where she met the Chinese international student who vowed he’d marry her on their second date.