Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Okay. I’ll put it in my locker.”
“That’s good for now. There’s a lot of money in that briefcase.” I zipped up my pants, buttoned the top, and took the joint back. “Then, in the morning, put the money in your bank account.”
She widened her eyes. “My bank account?”
“Yeah. It’s not that you should be ashamed for working here. You’re a pro, but the world needs your medical skills more.”
“Maxwell, I can’t—”
“I won’t accept no for an answer. And I hope you would quit working here this week. There should be enough in there to make that happen.” I headed out, still holding the joint in my hand.
It took me no time to get outside. Although a few half-naked beautiful women beckoned me to do a small detour. After spending time with Tiana, they wouldn’t be enough.
Ignoring them, I continued forward. I didn’t see Boris anywhere. I hoped that he was thoroughly enjoying himself with several women.
When I made it to the front door, I stepped out onto the large porch.
Even at night, the humidity hadn’t eased.
Gwen stood there, looking sexy. Tonight, she had on tight jeans and a sleeveless white top that showed off her cleavage. A white rose was stuck in the side of her curly afro, reminding me of Billie Holiday.
She had a large manilla envelope in her hand.
Rafael stood next to her and frowned. “You could have put on a shirt.”
“I could have.” I inhaled the joint and offered it to her.
“No. Thank you.” Gwen shook her head and looked at Rafael. “We need some privacy.”
He scowled. “Do you?”
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at him.
Rafael looked close to yelling, but he walked off the porch and headed toward the car parked near the steps. Once he got there, he leaned against it and watched us.
I was actually surprised he didn’t go back into the brothel since he owned the place.
Still trying to show her that you’re a changed man?
Gwen looked at me. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fucked up, but maybe that’s the champagne and weed.”
“Or maybe it’s my grandmother.”
“She messed me up for sure and said a bunch of crazy shit. I don’t even know how she did it. Was it some sort of drug vapors in the house or—”
“She went into your mind because you probably had it open.”
“Then, how do I close it?” My hand shook as I took another hit. “I don’t ever want shit like that to happen again.”
“When I’m around my grandmother, I always picture brick walls inside my brain and then another steel wall behind that.” Gwen gave me a soft smile. “What did she say?”
“She said some crazy shit about my grandparents being cousins and calling themselves Friday, instead of using the last name Jones.”
She blew out a long breath. “Now that, makes sense.”
“What does?”
She lifted the manilla envelope up and gave it to me. “Grandma gave this to me earlier tonight and told me to make sure you got it.”
I didn’t reach for it. “What’s in there?”
“Two photos.”
My stomach twisted. “I don’t want to see whatever this Voodoo woman would give me. I’m tired of people messing with my head this week.”
Gwen opened the envelope and pulled a large black and white photo out. “I snuck a peek on the way here.”
I frowned.
Gwen walked over and showed me the first picture. “I know most of the people in this photo.”
I gazed at it.
In the image, ten Black kids smiled at the camera—five boys and five girls. They all appeared adorably scruffy, but they also looked bad as hell. The sort of kids that no one would want to volunteer to babysit due to all their mischief and mayhem. They had dirty clothes and matted hair. Most of them wore no shoes as they grinned at the camera.
A little toddler girl sat on the ground making mudpies. When the person snapped the picture, the toddler had her special pie in her mouth. Mud dripped down her chin. Her eyes were bright with laughter.
Who the hell are these people?
The house that I’d been in earlier was in the background. However, in this image the house resembled more of a run-down shack. There were a few broken windows and a screen door hanging off its hinges. Part of the roof appeared caved in.
Gwen watched my reaction. “Does anyone look familiar?”
“No way.” I put my focus on her. “I’m sorry, but your grandmother is crazy. There’s no way we’re related.”
Gwen refused to move the picture. “My grandma only let’s family bring guns into the house.”
I leaned against the porch railing, brought the joint to my lips, and inhaled.
“And I’ve never heard my grandma tell anybody that we were family unless they were actual blood. Grandma makes no mistakes. She’s better than any DNA test.”
“Well,” I exhaled smoke. “I will need a DNA test before I deal with her again.”