We got the job done at the shop. But Ernestine and I don't know what to tell Zebedee. "So, you wanna go tell him or me?" she asked me when we got back to the plant.
I've been up there, but I also don't wanna go again. "I can go."
"Really?" I did the wrong goddamn thing. She's too happy. "I'm tired so I'm going to my room. Thanks Closwintha, we talk about you a lot in the lounge but this was an experience." And my ears just don't burn enough.
I keep my word, I could have lied but let's not make that a habit. Going to the top of the house, across the sigil. I'm in the hallway.
Hello red walls.
Waltzing down the blue and gold rug. Passing Mahlon's creeping ass and headed to those foreboding double doors. I knock. "Come in."
I enter Zebedee's room and he's holding an ice pack to his head. "What?"
"Report from the car shop."
"That nigga can't give me shit…" he groans. "He said he isn't able to make the cars you want. On top of the fact you also supply." I said.
"What do I have to give the nigga?"
"Nothing…" my voice is too low. "What does that mean?"
What do I say? "We went to the shop and Clifton said to tell you that he isn't doing it. And you want to put a ritual in it."
"I hate him…" he bows his head. "I'm already in fucking pain. I want a march."
"A march sir?"
He rose from his leather chair. "Dracula March!" he praised rising his right hand. "Niggas of all, marching down the street. Collecting, taking, I mean," he scoffs. "That's what black people do. A mass robbery."
That is possible. But I would imagine zombies not vampires of color or mixture.
"I have a God, Chloe. You know what God is?"
What kind of question is that? "No sir," I say not knowing what else to do. "The Crooked Man, Chloswintha…"
"The Crooked Man sir?"
"I'll tell you. God knows I can't tell Marama anything. Her mouth is gorgeous but that's all I give her." I furrow. He's such a pimp. "I'm going to make a God. I might even make it a body." he grins widely with teeth. "I could give it to Mahlon, grandpa. Because that man should have lived."
He was a slave owner. "His house was taken by his own work force. Having slaves was like being rich. Oh yeah, uncle Thomas got new niggas. That meant your family…" he starts to chortle. "That meant y'all was made in the shade. You know what that means?"
"Lucky?"
"That's right. Black people can't have all the glory, that's why God made light and dark. If black people get powerful, we can't see so God said 'let there be light' and he made white people."
I never knew.
"I got a whole mythology on it, The White Light. I'll give you a free copy of the book." he smiles. "In stores for 78 dollars."
Seventy eight dollars for a white supremacy analog!
.
.
.
I know too much and I forgot about my previous task. I damn near killed Mokiri. But on a regular thing I just stumble upon shit, like the charm in my pocket. I just so happened to find it in a dresser.
Dinner came around. We had scallop wontons, Celeriac and sauliflower soup. To describe it, it looks like floating croutons in a white soup or brown. We had the dessert. And I mean The Dessert which is between apple pie and banana pudding.
Each plant is different. This is the sweet taste of life before we all day. I might eat somebody. I did a whole ritual on myself. I really don't know what I'm doing.
After dinner, I go to the lounge and I see Quinn in middle of the floor. She has her head down and silent. "Hi Quinn!" I baby her. "What are you doing?"
Everybody seems to hate me according to Ernestine. I treat Quinn like a good behaved handicap child. "Quinn? You ok?"
"I think I'm on my period again." I take back everything I said. "You need a pad, Quinn."
"But the lord usually collects it." she tells me. I'm disgusted. "No one collects period blood, Quinn."
"Well he used to collect mine!" she snaps at me. I almost summoned my foot and hand. Her top teeth cover her bottom lip as she cries on the floor. "What is wrong with you?"
"I'm tired of getting beat up!" she heaves. "I don't want him to leave me again!" she bawls. What the fuck do I do? "Who is leaving?"
"Janna," she puts her fingers in her mouth. "They killed me because I killed that girl!"
"What girl?" I'm nervous! I should have minded my business! "I killed her because Janna said to!"
"Ok!" I'm startled. "We gave her to Yoc and she died. I got a whooping when Shuja came home!" she yells through tears.
"Calm down--" I DON'T CARE! "I wanna go home!" she cries in her hands. "I don't wanna go to death!"
"Calm down--" I reach for her hands and smacks my arm. "I don't wanna go to death!"
"You don't wanna die!" I clarify. "I don't wanna die again!"
"so you mean this isn't your body?"
"No!" she starts pulling the sides of her hair. "Soy de México. soy mexicana ¿No puedes oírlo?"
"Well, wha-what happened!" Why am I flustered? "I'm not stupid!" she hits herself in the head. "I'm not stupid!"
"Stop!" I pull her hands away from her head. She fights me but I hold her. "This is stupid! Stop hitting yourself!"
"Help me!" her finger is in my eyes. "You help me!"
"Help? Help you?"
"I need to go downstairs!" she says. "I need Chauncey!"
"Why--who?"
Quinn claps. "I'll kill you!"
"No!" I get up, Quinn grabs my foot and bites my foreleg. "Ah! You stupid little bitch!" I ball up my fist and strike her in the lip. "Help me!" she won't let go of my leg. "Let me go!" I take off my heels and beat her with the heel of the shoe.
"You have to help me!" she screams. Her hand is in the air and I give her my left hand while beating her with the heel in the other. "Let me go!"
"I don't wanna die!"
"I don't care!" the heel digs into her right eye. Quinn yells and in a plume of smoke she hops out of the lounge.