Page 32 of Desperate Measures
“Venus, have you lost your mind? Stop while you’re ahead,” he growled, tightening his grip. “Chill the fuck out!” He snapped.
And then I spat in his face. That was it. The last line was crossed. His hand flew and backhanded me hard enough to twist my body around. I barely registered it before he grabbed my hair, slammed me onto the bed, and punched me again. Everything blurred. The ceiling fan spun above me, a slow, hypnotic spin. I heard his voice, but it was just noise now, barking, booming, distant. My vision swam. My body buzzed with pain.
He loomed over me, hand pressing against my throat. I bucked and thrashed, chest heaving, trying to throw him off. But I was losing strength. Losing air.
“Are you done?” he said, voice low and poisonous.
“I hate you,”
“I know,” he said flatly, rising from the bed.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t move.
My body throbbed in places I couldn’t explain. My wrist was on fire, my lip pulsed, and I could feel it was swollen. My entire face felt like it had caved in. But the worst part was the silence in the room and the shame crawling under my skin.
“My mama told me to leave you street bitches alone,” he muttered. “Now I see why. Let me make this simple because there’s too much heat on me. You better fix that and fast. If you can’t turn this shit around, I’ll visit your sister Aries. She looks like a prime candidate to be baby mama number three.
“Que, please…” I begged, hoarse. “I’ve done everything I can. No one’s talking to me anymore. There’s nothing left-”
“There’s always something. My parents are tight with the District Attorney. I make one call, they put the pieces together, and the heat comes off me. They need a witness, someone close to everything. That's your job.”
He leaned in close and smiled at me like the demon he was. “I want Rashad and Jahsir gone by the end of the month. And because I like you…” He paused. “I’ll have them draft up a bounty or something. You’ll get paid, and you can consider that your cut; then you and I are finished. Deal?”
I nodded but said nothing. I didn’t cry, but my body trembled like it wanted to. I lay there in that overpriced-ass room thatIpaid for with a busted lip, bruised face, and aching wrist, and the realization hit me hard—I had no choice but to finish this job. This wasn’t just to protect my family. I needed to protect my lifestyle.
If Rashad, Crimson, or Jahsir ever found out about me and Que, I’d have to run. Leave Mulholland Falls behind. And pray they never found me.
jahsir
. . .
It wasthe last place I wanted to be, but at the same time, the only place that made sense.
Each year, Mulholland Falls pulls together the city’s most popular and most underrated restaurants, offering small bites of everything from jerk wings to truffle sliders. It was the city’s largest food festival and a cultural main event. The mayors and other city officials looked forward to a full-on takeover that showcased just how diverse and proud Mulholland’s food scene had become.
There was no way I could miss it. But I had to be careful. The Taste came with thick crowds and police. Everywhere, which is why this was the last place I should have been. But I needed this day with my girls. Red had been busy grinding at her boutique, and I’d been locked in the studio, painting nonstop to prep the collection I’d bring back to Monaco. We were overdue for family time, especially outside of the loft. Crimson had us dressed like triplets in matching fits— green, white, and black everything. Even the Nikes were synced. We took family day to another level.
Vendors lined the blocks displaying their best. Sha-Ray’s was there, near the east entrance, with the rest of the seafood. The scent of Old Bay, garlic butter, and sweet corn muddledtogether. But even with all of the seafood vendors being side by side, Sha-Ray’s stood out.
Across the way, Neise’s was grilling corn for elotes over an open flame, the smoky heat catching in my throat as the buttery corn hissed and popped. Sweet chili oil clung to the air near the Asian fusion stands. Some teens walked past us with a tray full of jerk chicken and plantains. The strong spices of cloves, scotch bonnets, and garlic diverted us, causing us to turn and head in that direction.
It was fun chaos, memorable chaos. Kids weaved through the crowd with dripping snow cones, while their parents held giant turkey legs. Someone was selling fresh-cut mango on a stick, dusted with Tajin. Voices were heard in every direction, whether it was yelling or laughter. It was enough to overstimulate anyone, which is why I kept a close eye on Crimson. But she was actually fine. Looking over her shoulder had become a thing of the past, and if she was good, I was great.
Running into a familiar face was likely on the busiest days, which is why when we saw Ms. Ruby with some man, I wasn’t surprised. Crimson was kneeling next to the stroller, feeding Scarlett some Italian ice, when Ms. Ruby approached us.
“Look at my big girl! My goodness.”
Crimson looked up at me, rolling her eyes, then planted a smile on her face.
“She is big. Hey, Auntie Ruby.”
“Hey there, it’s been a while. You don’t call or come by to check on your aunt. You must still be mad.” She stated, reaching out to hug Crimson. Crimson obliged, returning the embrace.
“No, I’m cool. I’ve moved past a lot of things. I just choose where I give my energy to, family included.”
“You kids kill me these days.” Ms. Ruby shrugged. “Families argue, you don’t just cut someone off.”
