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AMANDA'S P. O. V.
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Wednesday: 7:05 A.M.
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"Yuh know say mi convinced say woman nuh know time."
Jesus, it's too early.
"Good Morning, Mr. Senior," I say above the sound of the seat belt fastening to the tongue, with a soft click.
He brings his eyes up to look at my face, narrowing them into a mischievous glare. "Yuh sure a still morning?"
If him never say sum'n snarky...
"Yuh extra eeh, Lucas?" I look at the time on my phone. "It's barely five minutes past seven."
"Still thirty-five minutes past the time I told you I was coming to pick you up, don't?"
Ano that, mi shoulda make yuh wait longer, after a you keep mi out yah mek mi go a mi bed so late, last night.
"Whatever," I mumble beneath my breath, turning to look through the window.
Regardless, he's right...but I won't admit that.
The engine roars to life just as Such Man says, his tone firm, "Mi soon know wah fi do fi fix tha attitude deh, nuh watch nuh face..."
Watchya!
Before I can give him a piece of my mind, my phone pings loudly in the silence, drawing my attention to it.
Upon unlocking the screen, with my fingerprint, I see that it's a WhatsApp message from Shane.
Kacka fart, mi figot fi tell him say mi a get ride, this morning eno.
A hope him nuh drive out yet...
I quickly click on the message drop-down bar and read what it says.
SHANE (Work): Gm. Ago pick up Moya first then circle yuh. That good?
I sigh, feeling a sense of relief seeing he hadn't come all the way this side for nothing. After all, I wouldn't want to put him out of his way like that.
Shane was a cool dude, yes, but even the coolest of cool would be annoyed if they had to drive all the way here, from Molynes-- wasting precious gas, and time, when a simple text could've prevented it. I know I would've been.
So, I try not to do to others what I wouldn't want for myself.
With a small smile playing on my lips, I quickly reply to his message.
ME: It's OK love. Getting a ride. 🫠
His response comes in just as quickly.
SHANE (Work): Ah, no say a word then. Later.
Yea...
Lucas chuckles, lowly, beside me, making me look at him. Particularly, at his fingers which flex repeatedly around the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything, but I can just tell he's itching to ask who I'm texting.
Matter-of-fact, I'm surprised he hadn't done so the moment my phone went off.
"It's Shane," I tell him before he asks--I know he will. Eventually. "I told you he's my ride until my car is fixed."
Mi know it burn him bad fi hear mi say so, but mi nuh care.
Goodly a boil deh now.
That thought makes me want to do it for the better.
Just the mention of another man's name alone is enough to get him acting out.
Funny enough, I think that's the exact reason why he's the first to come pick me up, this morning.
Imagine my surprise when this man had called, bright and early this morning, to tell me he'd be here to pick me up, at six-thirty.
Absentmindedly fiddling with the phone in my hand, I fold my lips to quell the urge to smile.
Keeping his eyes peeled on the road ahead, Lucas remains silent for a while then goes, "Taxi nuh run your route?"
I hiss my teeth. "Alright, this is what we're not gonna do."
He chuckles but it's humourless. "Who's this Shane bredda anyway?"
Wah mi tell yuh say?
I have a mind tell yuh sum'n weh mi know ago hurt up yuh head even more.
"My co-worker," is what I say instead.
Picking at the strands of his beard, he says, in the most deadpan tone, "A bare hombre work a your workplace it seems."
Jealousy ago kill tha bredda yah eno!
Believe mi when mi tell yuh.
If mi and him nuh deh and him a gwaan so, just imagine...
I internally scoff.
At his statement, though, I hiss my teeth, again, and roll my eyes which only serves to make him chuckle.
You alone find your attitude amusing.
"Not even ago answer yuh eno."
He shrugs. "Just curious."
I bet.
"Yuh nawh answer mi?" he asks when I still don't grace him with an answer.
Only when I've pleased myself, do I finally respond with a sarcastic, "Why? Are you seeking shares in the company, Sir?"
He shakes his head but remains silent.
The silence lingers for a while, until I break it saying, "By the way, when you come to pick me up at this hour to go all the way to Newport West, aren't you gonna be late?"
Unless that's where he's working today, too.
He smirks. "Yuh ever see boss late yet?"
I scoff to hide the smile which threatens to spread. "Alright, Mr. Hype..."
He chuckles deeply. "How yuh so uptight, today?"
How you so happy?
"Just a pull your legs, stills," he adds before I can respond. It's as if he could smell the attitude from afar. "I'm not going to the office. Was planning on handling other businesses, today."
Only now do I take note of what he's wearing: a white Bush jacket and dark fitted jeans.
I want to ask him what kind of 'other businesses', but I don't. After all, I don't think that's my place to ask, anymore.
"OK." I unlock my phone and open IG.
We continue to drive in comfortable silence. I keep my head buried in my phone; scrolling through my feed just to distract myself from the teasing fragrance of Lucas' cologne.
Speaking of, I need to remember to check the site for the cost...since his birthday is only a few weeks away, and I was thinking of getting him something nice.
Shh! Please don't say what I know you want to say.
I've chastised myself enough, already.
But, it's the least I can do considering all he's done for me...even though we're no longer together.
"Oi! Wah yawh do yasso, man?"
The sound of Lucas' voice causes me to look up just as the car pulls over to the side of the road, at the old Globe Furniture building on Constant Spring Road.
Through the now rolled-down window, I see a man, who'd been walking with a level in his hand and a big black knapsack on his back, stop and turn; his eyes narrowed, eyebrows scrunched together, and his thin dark lips twisted in a lazy frown.
"Oh, a you!" the man says when recognition dawns on him, bending to peer into the vehicle. "Wah gwaan, Bossy?"
"Morning, pretty lady," he adds, taking note of my presence.
He reeks of weed.
Nonetheless, I nod, giving him a small, polite smile.
"Weh yuh up to?" Lucas continues to say, leaning over slightly and resting his hand on the back of my seat.
"Yuh know say a the work mi a go pon though, Bossy," the man answers, pointing over his shoulder. "A uppa Waterloo Road mi get a one work weh mi a try finish up, yah now."
Lucas nods. "Zeen. So when yawh go link mi 'bout my thing?"
"And yuh know say yuh shoulda call mi though, mi boss. Mi woulda circle your ends before mi take on tha work yah eno!"
Lucas hisses his teeth. "Nuh tell mi nuh fuckry man, Chippy! Look how much time man call yuh from wah day and cyaa get yuh phone."
The man --Chippy-- laughs raucously. "Just cool man, Bossy. Yuh know say fi tell the truth, though, the phone never did a work so good."
Lie like.
Lucas' jaws tick. "Aye, mi nuh sick eno, so mi nuh want nuh man give mi nuh bloodclaat pill. If yuh nuh want maths up the thing fimi just say so mek mi get smaddy else."
"No say that, man!" Chippy pleads as he places his hand on the brim of the glass. "Tell yuh wah, mi ago doso doso and maths up tha thing yah, then mi wappy pon your side and sort you out. Yuh know how the grizzy guzu when we shizzle."
Then tha man yah sensible?
As if agreeing, Lucas lightly beeps his horn. "Look yah, man, call mi!"
Chippy straightens his stance. "Aite, Bossy!"
With a final honk of the horn, Lucas pulls off, signalling for the car in front of us to give him a bly just as it was about to move further up the line of traffic.
"Didn't know you spoke code," I tease Lucas when he moves further along the line. 'Cause a must code the man did a chat inna fi the last part of his sentence likkle while.
Lucas' frown deepens. "I don't."
My smile is smug. "So how yuh understand one thing that man said, a while ago?"
He looks over at me; his full lips quirking to form a lopsided grin. "Who says I did?"
This finally makes me laugh, shaking my head. Tha man yah yussi...!
Yuh see how man stay? Mi say yuh woulda swear think a one new language him and the man a speak, likkle while, to how Lucas a nod animatedly to everything he was saying. Only, fi hear him say now say him nuh have a clue wah the man did a say the whole time. Ole hypocrite.
All him mi nuh waan give testimony fi mi a court.
"Wickedness cyaa done."
"Stay deh follow up, Chippy. A the biggest ginal that inna Jamaica."
"I thought that was you?" I tease.
Lucas looks over at me, briefly, before focusing his attention back on the road. I can tell he's smiling though because of the crinkle at the side of his eye.
I laugh.
"Amanda, go fuck a dick."
I mock gasp. "Why are you so vulgar?"
"So wah mi did fi tell yuh say: Go fuck pussy? Yuh start swing dem way deh now?"
"Ha ha, funny! Speaking of which, though, I forgot to ask you last night, since you're gonna be hanging out with Ashley...does that mean I'm free to see other people, too?"
The mere utterance of her name annoys me.
Lucas' shoulders visibly tense. So, imagine my surprise when he says, "Yes."
My eyes bulge and my mouth drops open. Literally. "Really?"
He chuckles. "If yuh want Such Man get fucked, why not?"
Hear yah now!
My mind immediately drifts to Dameel, and my heart skips a beat.
"Yuh see how uno man unfair?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "Suh you supposed to can fuck whomever you want, but I should do what? Sit and wait for you?"
Like mi look like idiot.
He grinds his teeth. "Why mi know yuh did ago come wid some fuckry like this?"
Is it fuckry because you say so?
I fold my arms defensively, fixing him with a pointed stare. "It's not fuckry, Lucas. It's a valid question."
"Amanda, I never said I was gonna fuck anyone. Furthermore, I'm doing this for a reason. What reason do you have, other than being spiteful?"
Hear yah!
"I have needs too, for one."
He continues to grind his teeth. "And God gave you ten fingers."
Shocked, I say, as if instinctively, "Suck yuhself, drancrow!"
The big head bwoy laughs out so loudly, it makes me start laughing too, despite myself.
When he sobers up, he says, "Affi tek bad things make joke, bredda. But, mi not even ago while yuh, Amanda. Yuh know yuh nuffi fuck wid mi."
So yuh say? "Alright...watch."
He glares at me, quirking his brow.
Truthfully, I have no desire to mess around with anyone else. I tried with Dameel and it failed miserably, proving my point exactly.
But, Lucas feels too entitled right now.
I give him a sweet smile. "Just say...'bet'."
"Bet!" he hisses.
I giggle.
The look he gives me sends butterflies wrestling in my groin. It's like his voice has awoken every egg inna mi ovaries to hell!
Jeezam.
The fact that I'm still so weak to him gets me upset.
Without another word, I recline in my seat, fixing my gaze on the familiar view of the buildings lining Hagley Park Road.
. . .
"No thank you for the ride," I tell him when he comes to a stop at the gate outside my office.
He chuckles. "Gwaan a work, Amanda Smikle."
So a wah yuh see mi a do, Mister Sar?
Flipping him my middle finger, I hurriedly exit his vehicle, spitefully slamming the door behind me.
Try that wid him bimmer nuh.
"Wait 'til mi buck yuh the right way man!" I hear him shout, but I don't look back.
Instead, I keep my eyes on the walkway leading to my office, all the while smiling to myself.
Likkle big face tormented bwoy.
***
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LUCAS P. O. V.
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Thursday: 1: 05 P. M.
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Through Ashley, I found out about the apartment that's up for rent in Norwidge.
I also found out that that's where Ambrose lived ever since he was cut off from most of his daddy's money.
So, that's where I am now, under the guise of a young, budding entrepreneur looking for a new place to reside.
"Mr. Edwards, follow me," the sales agent says to me with a polite smile.
I return her smile and do as she says.
As we're heading down the corridor, my eyes scan my surroundings.
It's not a bad complex per se, but it could do well with better upkeep.
"Do these cameras work?" I ask her, gesturing with a tilt of my head to the cameras lining the ceiling.
She stops and gives a bashful smile. "The ones from the beginning of the stairs up to here, do. However, the ones from the back entrance don't." She then quickly adds, "But, I assure you that the entire complex is secured."
I bet it is.
Even if it isn't.
We'll soon find out.
I nod.
As we continue the slow trek along the corridor, Ms. Jameson does her thing, trying her hardest to win me over with her mundane sales pitch.
While I tune her out, for the most part, bobbing every now and then as if I'm actively listening, I count the numbers on each room door we pass.
Room 105B is what I'm looking for.
A few minutes later, I spot exactly what I'm looking for. It's almost the very last door at the end of the corridor. It's identical to all the other doors, but the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging from the handle makes it stand it.
My eyes fleet to the other door beside it.
"What about this one?" I ask, pushing the thick rimmed glasses further up my nose.
It wasn't a test glass, but the fucking thing a drag mi eyes yuh fret.
Don't know how people wear these things.
At my voice, Ms. Jameson stops her monologue and turns to face me. Her eyes widen, lifting her brows. "This one?"
I nod.
"Well, it wasn't on this listing as it's not necessary fit for living now. It's --"
Tucking my hands into my pockets, I cut her off saying, "Can I get it though?"
After a brief pause, as if contemplating, she says, "Well, I can allow you to view it first and then you can decide if you wish to rent, just the same."
I nod again.
I find that using less words heightens the level of intrigue. And Ms. Jameson has been swallowing it up, all afternoon.
While I wait for her to find the key amidst the bundle in her hand, I stare at her ass.
The keys continue to jingle in her hand, as metal brushes against metal, as she steps forward, soon after, and opens the door.
"Come in then, Mr. Edwards," she says offering me a polite smile.
I step in behind her, closing the door behind us as she switches on the lights.
. . .
"I want it," I tell her as soon as she finishes the tour.
"Oh...OK. Yes, sure."
It's almost like she's surprised I accepted.
It's not the nicest place on the block, of all I've seen since day, but luxury isn't what I'm after.
According to her, it was under renovations, but I don't mind.
Tapping her pen twice against the marble countertop, she turns and leans against the obviously newly installed structure. "I'm not sure by how much the landlord will be willing to drop the asking price for though, Mr. Edwards, since, as I said before, it wasn't on the market..."
I smirk and she blushes. "That's OK, I'll take it at the original price."
A look passes over her features, but she quickly masks it. "OK, so we can just sign the paperwork then, and we can get everything set in motion."
Now, this is what I wanted to hear.
Maintaining the facade, I say, "How long would everything take?"
"About three weeks, as, as I said, the place was under renovation, so the landlord would have to get the contractors in to complete the process that has already began. And --"
"Yeah, that's fine. What's needed to get everything rolling for it to be ready to be handed over to me? In terms of legalities."
"Um, I'd just need your ID, whether passport, voters ID, or driver's licence, and a copy of your TRN...your last three payslips, or a bank statement...proof of address..."
Neither of which I have.
At least not under this alias.
This is where things get interesting.
"You're the landlord's daughter, correct?" I ask, taking a step closer to her. Her eyes widen but she maintains her composure, giving me a brief nod. "Can you work something out for me without the formalities? I know you're a professional, and I don't mean to cross the line, but I'm in a sticky situation now where all my documents are tied up in my business and I don't want the headache of...I just want somewhere to cool off while I get my affairs in order."
"It would mean so much if you could help," I add. "I promise I can make it worth your while."
She clears her throat, peering up at me through thick lashes. "What did you have in mind."
I shrug. "Money. Or..."
"Or?"
"I saw how you looked at me, earlier, Ms. Jameson. What if I gave you the opportunity to feel what you've been oogling all afternoon?"
She blushes, turning her head away from me and tucking a few strands of her long, brunette bang behind her ear.
That's the exact reaction I'd expected.
Stepping forward, until I'm almost pressing her body against the island, I cup her cheeks and bring her head back to face me. Staring intensely into her eyes, I say, "I really need your help. Please?"
She inhales deeply. "I could put in a word with Daddy, and hear what he says."
My grin is cheeky. "I'd love that, Ms. Jameson."
"It's Allisa." She runs her tongue along her cherry-coated lips. "And I'm not promising you because my father is a man of the books."
"Allisa," I repeat the name, not caring for anything else she said. "Such a beautiful name. Just like the bearer."
A so the promise of cocky mek woman blush easy, Dawg?
"Thank you."
I lift my hand and wipe away a few stray strands of hair from where they're stuck on her heavily made-up face. I feel her shiver.
I bite my lip.
"So...about that?" she asks meekly.
I immediately know what she's talking about. I smirk. "It's all yours."
At my words, she smiles before stepping forward and undoing my belt.
I stare at her as she kicks off her heels and drops to her knees, bringing my zipper down with her.
My cocky jumps when her cool hand grips it and pulls it free from the confines of my underpants.
It doesn't take much for it to stand at attention. I'd already conditioned my mind.
Allisa seemingly marvels at the sight before licking her lips and saying, "I knew it was big."
This brings a cocky smirk to my face as I watch her twirl her tongue around its head a few times before sucking it into her mouth.
I bring my head back and relax, allowing her to do her thing.
Fuck.
***
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LUCAS P. O. V.
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"Mi ago ask yuh again...who the fuck convince yuh fi fuck wid her liquor?"
Believe mi when mi say a the last time mi ago ask tha same question yah.
The longer I wait for him to beat around the bush, the more annoyed I get.
I've had a long day, and I want to go home and go to my fucking bed.
My eyes drift to Deacon's two goons who're standing behind him; each with one hand gripping onto either shoulder, to keep him steady, and their faces bearing a matching neutral facial expression --their eyes, however, tell the actual tale. They're both hungry for blood.
"Bredda, mi nuh know wah yawh chat 'bout, dawg!"
The gravelly voice of the likkle pussy kneeling before me, pleading his case, grates against my eardrums.
He shuffles to free his hand from the rope that has his hands bound.
Complete waste of time.
I chuckle lowly, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and unlocking it.
All the clips from earlier are listed, in order, in the album folder I click on, so I scroll through each insearch of one in particular. I grit my teeth when I finally find it. Pressing the play button, I ask him if, "This rings a bell?"
I shove the phone in his face.
On the screen plays the clip of him discreetly slipping whatever drug he's using into Amanda's drink.
Just the thought of it makes my blood boil, all over again.
I watch as recognition passes over his features, before his eyes widen in what I'm assuming is fear.
Reaching between my parted legs, I pull the empty liquor crate behind me closer, before taking a seat. "Weh yuh did a say now?"
The man kneeling before me sniffles. "Ano mi do it off of mi own, bredda. It was just a favour to a one catty. Mi think it was..."
I quirk a brow. "Was what?"
A game?
He holds his head down but remains silent.
My fist is just itching to break his jawbone. Maybe losing a few teeth will help him talk.
"Yo, blood, a you mi a wait pon eno!" I sneer. "Yuh think mi have all bomboclaat day yasso?"
His head snaps upwards. "A wah this pon mi, Dawg?"
"Yuh never know fi ask that when yuh mek a likkle pissin' tail gyal convince yuh fi drug off smaddy daughter?" I spit.
"Yuh ever stop fi think 'bout wah them do to her when she was knocked out of her fucking mind?" I continue to press. My temper rises the more I say it aloud. "Yuh ever think, 'What if them a plan fi rape her?' or 'What if them kill her after?' Eeeh, pussy?"
I'm fighting hard to keep my cool. Inflicting wound isn't my job here, after all.
His eyes glaze over. "Jah know, mi never did a think so deep, mi did just a try get the change weh she offer mi, bro. Mi sorry!"
Just by listening to him since night, I briefly wonder how old he is. He seems young. And reasons like a fucking six-year-old.
"How much she pay yuh?" I have to know if it was worth it.
Although, I don't know what could be worth jeopardising an innocent person's life.
"Fifteen gran..." he sobs.
Yo, save the crocodile tears, bredda. Yaggo need the hydration.
My lips curl in utter disdain. "Fifteen gran? Fifteen gran?" I scoff. "A fifteen gran yuh willing fi mash up an innocent girl life fa, yute? A girl weh trust yuh fi mix her drinks give her? At a party weh a man done a pay yuh fa?"
I've looked at his profile before hiring him for the gig tonight --albeit a ploy to get him here -- and he's not cheap.
Greed.
The root of all evil.
Simple.
"Mi know man," he admits. I can hear the desperation in his voice. "And mi regret it, Dawg!"
Regret?
Yuh nuh regret it yet.
I grind my teeth. "Who and who did know say she get drugged?"
'Cause it was clearly orchestrated.
He shakes his head. "Mi nuh know. The only people mi see a the catty weh pay mi...and a bredda weh lead her up the stairs."
DJ?
Finally, we're getting somewhere.
"The same bredda weh hire yuh fi work him bar."
He looks confused. "Is a female hire mi."
Interesting.
Pushing that thought behind me, I say, "The bredda yuh mention, him did a part of it too?"
To me, it seems they had a different plan. But, DJ interrupting them, from what I saw on the video, made them change directions, prematurely.
Somehow, I think DJ being there, in that moment, saved Amanda from something way worse.
"Mi nuh know," the guy's voice draws me out of my head and brings my attention back to him. "Mi mean, mi nuh think so because the same catty throw sum'n inna him drinks too, before him go up the stairs. Then she tell mi fi continue feed him it 'til she tell mi fi stop."
Hearing him talk so casually about it sends a chill running up my spine.
Them pussy yah would rape.
I think about what he says though.
Imagine how easily dem coulda fuck up both DJ and Amanda just like that. And nobody wouldn't even know.
Jah know.
The thought of Amanda ending up like Monique makes me so fucking angry.
If only they both weren't so pussyclaat stubborn.
One would've still been alive, and one wouldn't have come this close to death.
Bomboclaat man, Shantae and her suck pussy bredda fi get fuck up eno, yute!
'Memba mi tell yuh!
I clench my fist.
Aye! Mi nuh know wah none a them woulda tell mi say if them did hurt a strawn a hair pon Amanda's head, otherwise, eno.
The thought fuels my anger.
My knuckles crack as I give the bastard an uppercut.
The pain shoots through my hand and I flash it to ease the sting.
Fuck!
The little fucker screams out in pain, spitting blood onto the white tiles below.
The men behind him bring his slumped shoulders back to straighten his crouch.
I feel my phone vibrate against my skin.
"Mi have a mind clip yuh bloodclaat wings. But, yuh know why mi naggo kill yuh tonight? And yuh better know say a the only reason..."
He shakes his head and the action causes the blood streaming down his face to drip unto the white polo shirt he's wearing.
I bring my face closer to his so he can look into my eyes. They're the only things visible through the skii mask which conceals my identity. "Because yuh have a yute pon the way. That a the only reason, too, why mi naggo report yuh make dem seize yuh bartending license. But, yuh see if mi hear a peep 'bout this pon the media, yuh just get fucked."
His head bops animatedly.
I chuckle bitterly.
Then stand.
The pain in my hand has slightly subsided, but I know I'll still have to soak it in some cold water, later.
Tugging at the hem of my shirt, I note the drips of blood that have stained the front.
I sigh.
I turn to face Jimmy and Scar. "Mi a cut now eno, mi G."
Jimmy nods. "So wah mi fi do wid this?"
I stare at the guy for a while, studying his fucking ugly face that's decorated with tearstain and blood. Pathetic. Bringing my eyes back to Jimmy, I shrug, saying, "Fuck him up."
Without wasting a minute more, I turn on my heels and head through the door, leaving the sound of the overhead fans in the storage room, and the cries of that little shit as background noise.
Jimmy and him chargie will be fine. They know to lock up and exit through the back when they're through.
As I get to my car, I pull the phone from my pocket, seeing that it was a message that had come in.
Clicking on it, I smile as I see who the message was from.
AMANDA: Hey, miserable man. I'm home. 🙃