We're weaving through traffic; I sway around in the backseat while Jones Kevin concentrates on the road.
I don't know where he learns to drive like that, but he should be on a racetrack, not a taxi driver.
"Where did you learn how to drive?" I yell from the backseat.
At some point during our drive, Jones Kevin asked if he could roll down the window because he likes to feel the rush of the wind on his hair.
He has no hair, he's bald.
"I taught myself as a young boy on the backroad of the farm because my dad was always busy with work! " He yells among the throne of noises from the street
"Wow! I think you're in the wrong career, Jones! You should be on a racetrack!" I response
"Right?!" He beams from the front seat.
The SUV starts to slow down and park outside a coffee shop.
Jones Kevin find us an open spot a few yards away, and we park.
Both our eyes are strained on the car watching with eagle eyes to see who'll come out from the other passenger's side.
My brother's side opened first then the driver got out of the driver's side to open the other side.
Suddenly, the opposite side of my passenger's door opened.
Both the driver and I are startled, a man in business attire and a suitcase climb in " Take me to Lexicon Place." The man said
We both stared at him before Jones Kevin said " Get out of here! Don't you see I still have a customer in here?" The man in the suit looks at me, then climb back out.
"People now a day just don't know how to read the room anymore." Jones Kevin shakes his bald head
I nod in agreement.
We both turn our attention back to the black SUV, but no one is in sight any longer.
My brother is gone from the sidewalk, but judging from the SUV still parked, they must have gone inside the shop already.
I can't see anything inside the shop from here, I'm going to have to get out. " I'm going to get a closer look," I said to Jones Kevin
"Ok, be careful." He replies with a concerned look for his comrade.
I nod, I do a quick sweep of my surroundings before stepping out of the vehicle.
Jones Kevin sticks his head outside the vehicle "Hey! Do a hand signal if you need backup!"
I nod and swallow as tension creeps up my spine.
I creep closer toward the coffee shop that's when I realize we never practice our hand signal.
The place looks crowded through the glass window, I have a hard time getting a clear view with people standing in the way.
I can make out my brother's clothes, he's sitting at the opposite far end from where I'm standing.
He's talking to someone in a suit.
I move a little bit to the right to try and see between the space of people's bodies of the man in a suit.
I can make out his right hand he sits slightly turned and faces my brother, he has on a Rolex watch, and his hands are big with thick prominent veins, powerful hands.
I lower my body slightly to adjust the view I can see his neck I squat lower and my breath caught in my throat.
I walk back toward the taxi. I open the door and climb back in.
I lean my head forward and rest against the back of the driver seat looking down at the floor, there's a bubble gum stuck to the flooring of the car.
I close my eyes.
" Did you get to see who it was?" Jones Kevin asks
" Yes" I reply
Silence.
" Who was it?"
"Logan Godson," I reply
There was a pause before Jones Kevin asked again
"The Logan Godson?"
Hearing the awe in Jones Kevin's voice over Logan Godson's name, put an even bigger dent in my chest.
"Yes, the Logan Godson," I reply
" Holy shit." Jones Kevin's eyes bug out
-----------
I lay on top of my bedding and look up at the ceiling. Too many things are racing through my mind.
Jones Kevin's business card sits on my nightstand it reads "Hello. I'm Kevin, Jones Kevin at your service. Wanna get there fast? I'm your guy." With a picture of a character in a suit holding a martini glass.
Very sophisticated.
But I'm not sure if Jones Kevin thought this through. A taxi driver with a drink on his business card.
Or maybe he did, a taxi driver who knows a good time?
He's a genius.
I tug his business card safely away before reaching for my laptop.
I think for a moment before typing " How to break a family curse" I laugh at myself at the absurdity of it.
A lot of satanic rituals pop up on my search, I keep scrolling, keep clicking next.
Nothing of value pop up. I place my laptop back down and think. I reach back for my laptop and type " Godson" in the search engine. The result spits out mostly their family company, how wealthy they are, their international relations, etc. I kept clicking next until an article title caught my eye " Tragedy strike the Godsons"
I click on the article and read on:
Sunday afternoon, police forces and an ambulance respond to a 911 call from The Godson's resident. Abeila Godson's body, Gerald Godson's wife, was found in a bathtub with a self-inflicted wound to both her wrists. Who was pronounced deceased upon the arrival of medical staff. The body was found by her 8-year-old son, Griffin Godson, who dialed 911 and spoke with the dispatcher.
I clamp both my hands over my mouth in shock.
Holy shit.
Abeila Godson committed suicide. Griffin found his mom's dead body at 8 years old.
I stare at the screen. A picture of a little boy streaked with tears down his cheek in black shorts and a white shirt. In his tears ridden face, he's looking at the back of the ambulance, a younger looking Lisa holding his hand.
oh my god.
With shaking hands, I continue. But nothing else pops up.
How is that possible? The Godson is practically royalty in this place, something like this would be plastered all over town with everyone trying to get the scope out of the story.
Unless......because of how powerful the Godsons are, they can buy the tabloids and hide the story.
I place both hands against my temple. Think, Elena, think!
Light bulb! I type in the search engine " John Melvic" my father's name. A bunch of irrelevant results pops up, I continuously click next, but nothing.
I put the laptop away and lay back down on my bed staring up at the ceiling. Why did Abeila Godson commit suicide? Did it have anything to do with the curse?
Griffin found his mom's dead body when he was only 8 years old. How do you compartmentalize that? Did he seek therapy afterward?
How does eight years old move on from it?
I'm cold. Why am I so cold? I try to lift my hand to reach for my blanket, but my arms feel weak. I have no strength in them, I can hear someone sobbing. It's a tiny voice, but I hear it. Why can't I move? The sobbing continues, and my chest hurts. I try to open my eyes, but I have no strength.
"Mommy!" The tiny voice struggles in between sobs. My chest constricted at the sound. Oh god! Everything hurts!
I fight to stay awake, my heart cracking inside my chest as I hear the tiny voice continues to sob. " Mommy, Wake up!"
I'm trying baby, I'm trying!
I lost the fight, my mind drifted into an abyss.
I'm jolted awake with cold sweats. Startled, I sat up and look around my bedroom. No one is in here, I'm alone. I'm ok.
I rubbed my hand over my face, I slowly got up and walk to my bathroom.
I look at myself in the mirror, I look like a mess. What was that?
I knew what it was. I shake my head at my reflection in the mirror, daring myself not to think about it.
I was Abeila Godson in my dream. With Griffin crying over his dead mommy's corpse.
I threw up in the sink.