Ruin

86

"Oh."

My tongue itches to ask him 'What about life?' but I bite the tongue in my mouth while trying not to focus on the one between my legs that's throbbing like it's going out of style.

Deciding to change the subject a bit, I ask another question that's also been bothering me: "Yuh know wah mi figot fi ask? Yuh think the car that was following me since night is a part of this whole thing with you and the Ambrose dem?"

It couldn't just be a coincidence, could it?

Lucas takes a moment to answer. But when he does, it's to say, "I don't know. Maybe."

His response doesn't quite sit well with me. It's as if he knows something but doesn't want to say what.

"So yuh cyaa like...trace the license plate or sum'n?" I push.

I need him to tell me what he knows.

"The plates are fake."

I gasp. "What? How yuh know that?"

Did he track it already?

I know he has the means to do it.

"You said the plate number was JS6760 right?"

I nod.

"Realize the set-up of the numbers?" he continues, propping up on his elbow. "The letters are before the numbers. Jamaican licence plates start with the numbers appearing before the letters."

Really?

Recalling the number in my head, and comparing them with mine, my mouth forms a small 'O'.

"Oh..."

Never even called to mind.

"Yeah. So whoever did a follow yuh never had any intentions of being tracked."

And once again I'm left dumbfounded for the night.

Damn.

Lucas, on the other hand, doesn't even seem fazed.

So, I ask him why that is.

"It's not the first time I've been in a similar situation with a car, matching that description."

That explains his reaction earlier when I'd called. He must've picked up the rake when I told him the type of car.

I'm honestly starting to freak out.

Again.

"Eeeh?" is all I manage to say.

"Mhm. Remember the day we were coming from Mobay?"

I nod, unsure whether I want to hear what he's coming with.

It's like I've been living in darkness this whole time, and I don't know if I want to come over to the light, now.

Lucas takes my reaction as a cue to continue. "A black Benz did a trail we too."

I gasp and cover my mouth. My mind drifts back to the day. So, it wasn't a dream?

Goosebumps clothe my skin.

As if ignoring my reaction, except for squeezing my waist, Lucas continues to say, "But, when I stopped to confront whoever was behind the wheel, it sped off. Not before I got the plates though. Mi ask Deacon fi make him brethren track it and a desso mi get fi realize say the plates fake too. The difference was that those plates weren't as obviously fake as the ones on the car you saw."

Jeezam, mi head a spin...!

I want to tell Lucas that I've heard enough, but a part of me wants to hear the full story.