The Bad Seed Page 8

  “Don’t bring God into this,” she interjected, as if my words were an affront to her thin religious convictions.

  “I am your son and I’m asking you to love me in spite of what you feel about my life. Can you do that, Daddy?”

  “I can’t…not like you are.”

  They got up from the table and began moving down the hallway. I stood there, almost paralyzed. In that defining moment, I realized I was fighting a losing battle and their love was lost to me—forever; I wasn’t convinced that I ever had it.

  My rage grew. How could they treat me like this?

  “Well fuck you! Fuck you both!”

  My choice was clear. I could either live in misery or free myself. In that fateful moment, I decided.

  I snatched a sharp knife from the table and fought the urge to run up behind him and bury the blade in his back. Instead of stabbing him, I did something else. I grimaced loudly as I ran the sharp blade horizontally across my wrists. Blood spilled out of my veins and fell to the floor in bright red splatters.

  “Daddy!” I screamed out. When my parents turned around to see me, they gasped. She cried out with all the emotion a mother should have. She raced over to me and screamed at my father to dial 9-1-1.

  “I am flesh of your flesh and blood of your blood.” I fell to the floor and my mother’s wails echoed throughout the house.

  As I lay there, the magnitude of what I had done to myself caused me to cry out in pain, even as blood poured out of my open wounds.

  I didn’t want to die. I merely wanted to be loved.

  I felt fear like I had never known. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. This was their fault. My blood was on their hands.

  In that moment, I decided to live, if for no other reason than to make them suffer for at least another twenty years.

  Then, everything went black.

  I still remembered how I felt that day. The bitter taste of their hate still lingered on my tongue. I remembered feeling profoundly unloved. No child should ever feel that from a parent. Even though she wasn’t my real mother, she was the only mother I ever knew and she treated me like a stranger.

  I moved upstairs into the bedroom, gliding my way into the bathroom, and opened the medicine cabinet. Inside, a plethora of medications for Robert’s various conditions stared at me. There were pills for cholesterol, tablets for high blood pressure, and creams for his eczema; he had medicated droplets for his eyes and special vitamins that supported circulation. If he ever lost RDE, he could make a fortune as a pharmacist.

  I picked up the bottle of pills that were for his heart and twisted off the lid. I thought about pouring all of the pills out into the toilet and replacing them with fake pills, but I didn’t; however, it would be wonderful to see him stagger to the bathroom in serious need of his medicine only to find an empty bottle. I could watch him clutch his chest and collapse to the floor in pain. It was a good thought, but it was too common a plot.

  Just as I put the pills back in the cabinet, Robert appeared out of nowhere, like a spooky ghost.

  I need to put a bell around this cow’s neck.

  I felt Robert’s rough hands around my waist. “What are you doing?”

  “Oh, nothing…just a little tidying up,” I said. “How was dinner?”

  “It was good. She’s come a long way since I last saw her. I have a lot of hope for her this time.”

  “I’m sure.” I moved by him and walked into our bedroom. He moved slowly behind me.

  “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

  “What?” I knew exactly what he meant, but wanted to be difficult.

  “Ashleigh being here.”

  “Well, since you brought it up, yes, it bothers the hell out of me. You don’t find it strange that she appeared out of nowhere? After all this time?”

  “She’s my flesh and blood. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been out of touch with family. You can always go home.”

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this. She’s your daughter and I get it, but I can’t understand how you could accept her so easily. She put you through hell. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t want her stressing you out. Your heart isn’t as strong as it used to be.”

  “Don’t worry about my heart, baby. I’m taking care of myself and she’s not going to stress me out. We’ll be fine. I really need this chance to make it right.”

  “If you say so.” Robert moved behind me and I felt his hands underneath my T-shirt. They eased up my stomach toward my nipples and stopped. I knew where this was going and I didn’t like it one bit. I felt his grubby hands rubbing my nipples, which were uber-sensitive.

  Dear God, not again. I’m not even drunk!

  He lifted up my shirt and licked my right nipple with his dry tongue.

  Lord, give me strength.

  CHAPTER 10

  After two weeks, Ashleigh was still there and I made very little effort to get to know her. Each time she tried to talk to me, I blew her off, as if I didn’t have the time or the patience. Robert asked me again to work on my attitude, but his tone made his plea sound more like a mandate and I wasn’t in the mood to be commanded around.

  While she was in the house, she adopted an attitude like she was mistress of the manor. A couple of times she had directed the housekeeper to do things contrary to the way I liked them and I had to get Ashleigh together about it. I made it clear that she was not to give any of the servants orders or directives—that was my job. This house would be run the same way it had been run prior to her arrival and if she didn’t like it, she could kick rocks in open-toed sandals.

  One of her more obnoxious tendencies was the way she doted over Robert. When she was around him, she tended to act like a little girl and it was a tad bit too sickening to watch; yet, Robert seemed to love it. He reveled in the attention she gave him. I had never seen this side of him and I hoped to not have to deal with it too much longer. She had to go.

  She managed to talk Robert into hiring her as his assistant, on a temporary basis, at RDE. She was ingratiating herself with Robert’s employees and it was part of a larger plan to worm her way into his life and take everything that was mine. I didn’t know how she planned to do it, but I’d kill her before I let that happen.

  After another one of my sleepless nights, I finally got some rest starting around three in the morning. Robert was usually up in the morning before the sun rose. Usually, I helped him get ready for work, if for no other reason than to get his ass out of the house, but this morning I slept in a bit and when I finally made it downstairs, I watched Robert pull out of the driveway and head to work. It was barely six in the morning, but he was an early riser.

  Later in the morning, I went for my morning run to try to clear my head and by the time I returned, Ashleigh was in the kitchen ordering the cook around like she was the queen of the castle. I didn’t have the energy to speak to her, so when I entered the room, I moved to the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of juice. She tried to say something to me but I dismissed her with a wave of my hand and kept it moving.

  By the time I finished my shower and returned downstairs for breakfast, Margaret informed me that Ashleigh had taken a set of car keys and left. She told Margaret that she had some errands to run before she went to work. For someone who just blew into town, I couldn’t understand what errands she had. She was probably making a crack run.

  But, I needed to be proactive. I needed to find out information about her, so I took this opportunity to search her room. As I raced up the stairs, I wondered what I’d find in her room. I moved swiftly down the hallway, rounded the corner and approached her bedroom on the right. I knocked on the door to ensure that it was vacant.

  Tap.

  Tap.

  Tap. Tap.

  I couldn’t detect any sound, so I slowly opened the door. I peered inside before I set foot into the room. The room smelled of lavender, probably some cheap perfume she splashed on before leaving. The queen-sized sl
eigh bed was neatly made and everything was set neatly in place. The curtains allowed in a few slivers of sunlight, which sliced through the room in sections. Besides the fragrance that hung in the air, the room hardly looked disturbed.

  I stepped into the room and closed the door. My breathing was rushed and I quickly scanned the room to determine where to begin my search. I looked around the room for her luggage, but didn’t find it. I moved over to the closet and slid open the door. I saw two Louis Vuitton suitcases and a small carrying bag.

  How does a former crackhead afford Louis Vuitton?

  I picked up each bag, half-expecting them to be heavy, but they were empty. If they were still half-packed, then I could assume she didn’t plan on staying long, but clearly she had already settled in and emptied all her bags. I was grasping at straws for some hope of her departure. I closed the closet and moved over to the mahogany dresser. I pulled open the drawers, one at a time, to see if I could find anything, but all I found were her silk panties and slips.

  I closed the drawers and turned to face the room, trying to determine a good hiding place. I dropped to my knees and looked underneath the bed, but there was nothing there.

  I went back to the closet and picked up another bag. I placed it on the bed and unzipped the outside pocket. I pulled out several pieces of paper and threw them onto the bed. Bingo! Upon closer examination, I saw that the pieces of random paper were actually Internet articles about me and my wedding to Robert. She had pictures and the full details of the ceremony. I shuffled the papers around and found another article about me from the local newspaper about my high school track days.

  “Hmmmm,” I said out loud to myself. This bitch was checking up on me.

  Then, I saw another article from the same paper. It was about a local athlete who had fallen to his death in an apparent suicide. I had been questioned by the police and my name came up in the article. In this day and age of instant Google searches, it wasn’t unusual for someone to do an Internet search on someone, but I didn’t like the feeling that she had the upper hand; she knew more about me than I knew about her.

  There was nothing incriminating about the article and certainly nothing that linked me to Jabari’s death. Many people had been questioned about his death and no one was charged. Still, I didn’t like her snooping around in my past. I’m sure that Robert had run a complete background check on me prior to getting married. I had been arrested for possession of a small amount of a controlled substance—marijuana—but the charge was eventually dropped after I completed my community service.

  I searched her room for a few more minutes and then gave up. Nothing I saw gave me much insight to her real motives, but I’d find out. I knew what she wanted—money—but I didn’t know how she planned to get it. Robert would never leave the bulk of his fortune to a daughter who would smoke it up faster than Amy Winehouse. And, Ashleigh was a smart girl, so she had to know that, too. So, what was her endgame?

  “Blues,” I heard a voice say as I stood on the side of the bed with all of the articles spread out. “What are you doing in my room?” Ashleigh stood in the doorway. The look on her face was venomous. Her eyes were tightly drawn and her lips clenched.

  “Technically, this is my room; my house, my room. Get it?”

  “Oh, Blues,” she said, releasing the tension from her face. She stepped closer to me and gently removed the papers from my fingers. “You don’t trust me and I understand, but that still does not give you the right to invade my privacy.” She stuffed all of the papers back into her suitcase and zipped it shut.

  “Don’t get all indignant. I’m the one that’s pissed. What gives you the right to investigate me? Who do you think you are?”

  “I’m nobody. I’m a daughter who’s simply trying to get to know the man who married my father, that’s all. Is that a crime?”

  “Cut the bullshit, Ashleigh. I can see right through your games. The woman who approached me on the rooftop of RDE was not a concerned daughter. The woman who was talking to me that night had some tricks up her sleeve. You aren’t fooling anyone with this little Ms. Innocent act.”

  She picked up her suitcase and walked it over to the closet, sliding open the door and sliding it closed before turning to face me. “When are you going to stop acting like I’m the enemy? I haven’t done anything to you. I want a chance to have a real relationship with my father and to get to know you.”

  “I don’t like people digging around in my past.”

  “Do you have something to hide? Something my father should know? Something about the mysterious suicide of Jabari West?” Her lips twisted up in the corner to reveal a taut, almost victorious smile.

  Her words dug into me, but I didn’t let her see me flinch.

  “If there was something about his suicide that I knew, I would have told the police years ago, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not sure what to think. Exactly what was your relationship with him? The newspapers said you ran track together, but I think there was something more.” She slithered across the room to be closer to me. “If you need to unburden yourself and talk about something, I’m here for you. I know firsthand what carrying a lot of guilt can do to a person’s soul. Trust me on that.”

  “You don’t know the first damned thing about me or Jabari. You are way out of line and way off base.”

  “Am I? I can see something in your lovely eyes. Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Yes, there is. Go to hell.”

  “Did I strike a nerve?”

  “Ashleigh, you don’t know me very well, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and I’ll tell you politely…this one time. Don’t fuck with me. If you’ve come here looking to start trouble, then you might want to think again. I’d hate for this to get ugly. If you want me to trust you and for us to get along, then I suggest you back off.” I moved to the door.

  “I wasn’t starting anything with you. I’m only here to help. I found it odd—and so did the police—that you were the last person Jabari called before he died. According to your own statement, you and him weren’t that close. So, why would he call you, of all people?”

  Crack.

  Crack.

  Crack. Crack.

  “If you read the whole report, you also read where I told them that Jabari called me by mistake. I’m not sure who he meant to call, but we had a short conversation and then I hung up the phone.”

  “Really? You make it all sound so innocent.”

  “We spoke for less than thirty seconds and then I—Why the hell am I explaining anything to you?” I said. This bitch was getting under my skin and making me lose my cool. I turned and walked toward the door.

  “Blues, one last thing,” she said coyly, “does my father know about your arrest for prostitution in New York?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. She was going to make me choke the life out of her.

  I turned to face her and I smiled. “Your father knows everything he needs to know about me. I’m quite certain he ran a complete background check on me before we married. Robert isn’t stupid.”

  “No, he’s not stupid, but sometimes he can be blinded by the charms of a handsome, virile young man like you.”

  “Your father knows about that arrest. It was a simple misunderstanding and the charges were dropped.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “You haven’t seen anything, yet. You have lost your fuckin’ mind, coming up in here talking to me like this. You may be his daughter, but you’re still a crackhead and Robert will never trust you. Never. You can say what you want and try to spin stories about my past to fit your plans, whatever they are, but you’ll never win. You see, Ashy, once a crackhead, always a crackhead. Everybody knows that.” I walked out of her bedroom and closed the door. The sound of her voice and the sight of her counterfeit smile made me want to push her out of a twenty-story window. This bitch was really tripping. She didn’t know it, but she had messed with the wrong man.

  Her words had
winded me and I paused outside her door to gather my breath. Who was this Ashleigh Douglas and did she know more about Jabari’s death than she was letting on? If she knew something, she wasn’t going to tip her hand right now. Instead, she’d wait for the perfect moment so that her disclosure would have the most impact.

  If she thought I was going to take this lying down, then she was sadly mistaken. I wasn’t going to let her play me, especially when I’d come so far. I had been through hell and back to get to the place where I was and I was not about to let it all slip through my fingers. I moved swiftly down the hallway and returned to my room, slamming the door behind me.

  Crack.

  Crack.

  Crack. Crack.

  I grabbed the remote control and clicked on the television. I needed something to drown out the noise in my head.

  “Clever girl,” I said to myself.

  She had made her intentions clear. She had launched the first salvo. I had to strike before she did.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Marquis, I really need you to do this for me. I’m serious,” I said to my little homo-thug as he sat on the off-colored brown sofa in a cramped, run-down rowhouse on Good Hope Road, SE. I didn’t know why they called this road “good hope” because as far as I could see, there was no hope on Good Hope Road. Hope, along with any sign of decency, had boarded up and fled for safety a long time ago.

  Marquis’s place consisted of two rooms, a big open space that served as a living and dining area with a small, cramped bathroom in the back. The whole place reeked of cigarettes, beer, and faded dreams.

  Marquis was a plaything—a diversion—that picked me up one day outside the mall some months ago. His whole thug-presence and machismo was so not what I was into or had ever been attracted to, but there was something deep and mysterious about his eyes that captivated me, so I listened as he spit game. He came at me hard, with all the bravado, cool pose, and hustle he had mastered on the streets. In spite of his extended effort, I didn’t fall immediately for it. He amused me. I listened as he talked that talk in the parking lot with me leaned against my car; he didn’t seem to care whether or not anyone around heard him come at me with his homo thug appeal. He was fearless.