Authors: T. Styles

RedBone (56 page)

“Wait ... shot her in the chest?” She was confused. “Why ... why they do both?”

“They didn’t know she was shot at first. But when they took her to the hospital, and lifted the black gown she wore, they saw the bullet hole over her heart.” Mia was breathing so heavily she had to fan herself to prevent from passing out. Shadow popped up and marched toward the window. He leaned up against the wall, and looked out through the pane to prevent from crying. “You should’ve seen her face, Farah. Oh, my God! She didn’t look anything like herself. The porphyria ate her up terribly! Our beautiful mother is gone.”

Farah didn’t feel the same as her siblings about the loss, and it was evident by her expression. In her opinion Brownie got everything she deserved, but she didn’t understand who shot her, and attempted to hide it. “I can’t deal with her right now,” Farah said. “I got to use all of my energy on Chloe.”

Mia wiped her face, and touched Farah’s knee. “I understand you don’t feel the same as we do.” She looked at Shadow and back at her. “After everything she put you through, it’s wrong for us to expect you to.” She gave her a hug and Farah gladly accepted. She loved her family, Ashur included, but Brownie she couldn’t care less about. “Grandma said she’s coming over here in about an hour. You know she never comes out, but she wants to be there for us.” That’s all she needed was to see Elise’s face right now. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable. “I almost forgot, Slade and them were over here earlier. They wanted to talk here instead of at Markee’s. They said they can’t be sure if they can trust him yet.”

“I never liked dude,” Shadow said, looking at them. “He got a lot of shit with him if you ask me.” He looked back out the window.

“Something happened while they were here though. I gave Slade my key to get back in, because we were going to the morgue to identify Ma’s body.”

As Farah replayed the tapes of what Mia just said in her mind, a frightful expression covered her face. Immediately she hopped off the bed, and dropped to her knees. Shadow stood up straight and looked at his frantic sister in motion. Removing the box from under the bed with her stories, she was desperately seeking two things: her journal for the month, and Knox’s phone.

When Mia saw her fling the books out of the box, she finally understood her horror. “Please tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t write about what you did to Knox in your book.” Farah looked at her without a response and Mia had her answer. “How could you be so fucking stupid?”

“I been writing in these books all my life! What am I supposed to do? Just stop?”

Shadow walked over to them. “Farah, after all these fucking years? What the fuck is in them books anyway?”

She held her head down. “Everything.”

He leaned in. “
Everything?
Including the stuff we did that you knew about?”

“Yes.”

He put his hands over his face and paced in place. “Get the fuck out of here! Who does that kind of shit anyway? Just call the police and make a fucking recording!”

The moment he said that, the front door slammed. Farah hopped off the floor, and they all walked into the living room to see who was there. Standing side by side in the middle of the living room were Slade, Killa, and Major. Della Baker was sitting on the recliner.

When Farah walked out she said, “So this is Farah Cotton? The girl who stole my son’s heart.” She looked at her oldest son and using her cane, she pulled herself up.

“Yeah ... that’s her.” It was obvious that he was avoiding eye contact with his lover. She tried to search his eyes to see how he felt about her, but at the moment they were empty.

Mia and Shadow stood next to Farah as they waited for what would happen next. “Earlier today, Farah, my son found something on the way to the bathroom. In your house.”

Mia looked at Killa and rolled her eyes. When she was home earlier, he kept saying how he had to go to the bathroom; now it all made sense. He made no fewer than ten trips within an hour, but she didn’t think anything of it because her sister was missing. “So you were snooping around?” she asked him. “In my house?”

Killa remained silent.

“I think we’re asking the wrong questions, young lady, Della said. “How about we start by telling me how you got this?” She raised Knox’s phone in the air. “Let’s start there.”

Chapter 74

Present Day Mooney s House

Mooney sat in her brown recliner and looked at Cutie Tudy, whose mouth hung open. She knew the story would intrigue her, so she was certainly amused. “Close your mouth before something fly in it, child.”

Tudy slammed her jaws shut and said, “Well, what else happened?” She chewed the last of the cheese part of the pizza in her hand. This was the most interesting shit she heard in her entire life. “You can’t end it like this.”

“That’s all I’m telling you for now.” She rubbed her left elbow again. “I’ll tell you the rest when I see you later.”

“Well, it don’t make no sense!” she said, charged with her usual attitude. “The least you can do is tell me what happened when Della got there! Dang! That’s why I hate you sometimes! Always playing with people heads and shit!” She pouted, slinging the pizza crust to her white plate. Mooney laughed until she said, “You probably lying about the whole thing anyway!”

Aggravation took over, and for the moment, she lost her cool. Mooney leaped up, faster than Tudy knew she could move, and hung over the child like a lioness. “I don’t lie, child! And if I was going to start today”—she pointed her right finger in her face—“it damn sure wouldn’t be about this.”

“Okay ... I’m sorry.” She trembled so hard the crust on the plate was vibrating.

Mooney backpeddled toward her chair, and sat down without looking. “That story is all true, and you don’t even know the rest. Before you start judging people, know what the fuck you talking about first.” She turned to her left and rustled through a few newspapers on a nightstand. When she found the one she wanted, she said, “So I take it you can read right? Fighting with your foster sister ain’t the only thing you know how to do, is it?”

“No. I can read,” she said, still shocked at Mooney’s reaction.

“Good, take a look at this newspaper.” Tudy stood up, and toddled in her direction. When she didn’t take the paper Mooney said, “It’s too late to be scared of me now. If I wanted you dead, you’d be gone already.” Tudy didn’t feel any more comfortable, but she did as she was told. “Look at the headline.” Tudy eyed the bold black print and her jaw dropped again. “You better get that thing fixed before somebody put something in it.” Tudy giggled and Mooney was grateful they were able to move past the bad moment. Teenagers could be a little disrespectful at times, so she never had a problem putting them in place. “Read what is says out loud.”

“Farah Cotton ... woman or vampire?” Up until that moment, she thought the crazy woman was pulling her legs, but now it was revealed that she was telling the truth. Still stunned, she handed the paper back. “Hold up, you’re not ... you’re not Farah Cotton, are you?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, who are you then?”

“In the beginning, I told you about the screaming girl who came to the door when Farah was borrowing sugar.”

She nodded quickly. “Her boyfriend’s name was Kirk. The one who died?”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “I see you’re paying attention ... Well, that girl was me.” She grinned. “Back then I didn’t have a lot of worries.” For a second, she took a trip to the good old days. Coming back to reality she said, “That was then, but this is now.”

“But how did you know all of these things? Were you friends?”

Mooney removed her robe, and showed Tudy her amputated left arm. The child never knew she was armless, because she never really looked at her baggy left sleeve, which was always tucked in the robe’s pocket. “No ... but I did run into her again, and when I did, she gave me this to show for it.”

Urban Books, LLC
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ISBN: 978-1-5998-3285-2

This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living, or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

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