This chapter is 10,000 words. 20 pages, which might put it among the top ten longest chapters in WP from an amateur writer here. It sure is the longest I've ever written – ever thought I'd ever write, to be quite honest. It took longer than expected – two nights with no sleep and more editing than I am proud of, but it's here. If you enjoy it, please VOTE and COMMENT, if you deem me worthy of it. Thank you :)

Also, I wrote a lot of this in the wee hours of the morning, and this is 10,000 words so there will be grammatical errors, unfortunately! Sorry in advance.

Ashley

There was a knock on the door, but before I could even mutter an invite, Kenzie poked his head in. He scrounged his nose up me. "In here smells like fucked booty juice."

"What do you want, Kenneth?" I blurted. I had at least moved from my bed, to the chair next to the metal night stand that they had provided for me. In here was barren enough as it was. Just white walls and white tiles; white sheets and white lights.

Kenzie walked in and closed the door behind him. "Came in to make sure Reece didn't grind the cast off of your arm," he said. "By the way, I don't think getting your freak on in a hospital bed is what Missy Elliot meant when she released that song."

My cheeks warmed, just a bit. I had thought I was immune to Kenzie's teasing about me and other boys since he caught Dennis and I more times than I'm proud to count out loud. "You heard us?" I asked.

"Nigga, this entire hospital heard you," he replied, much to my dismay and his amusement, if the smile on his face said anything. "A woman who was in a coma for three years woke the fuck up from all that pelvis on booty smacking – like y'all listening to a damn Kirk Franklin song clapping along and shit. We all heard the sound of you and Tighty Whitey doing the Marvin Gaye."

"Getting it On?"

"Yes, bruh," he said, with a grimace. "At least lock the door and play some R-Kelly next time so all of your friends who are standing right outside your door don't have to hear Reece buss a nut inside of you."

I looked over, eyebrow raised. "How do you know he was in me?"

Kenzie rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, moving his large gold chain out of the way, and allowing it drape his arms. "Can you name a single time Dennis ever let you grind that ass of his?"

I shrugged. "That's different," I said. "Dee was a top. Reece is versatile."

"And how you know?" he asked, eyeing the apple on the table next to me. "All we could hear is you screaming Deeper! Harder! Faster! Stronger! Like y'all was performing the gay sex version of that Daft Punk song."

I scoffed at my brother, but picked up the apple and threw it to him. He caught it with ease. "I know he's verse, because he didn't squeal like a pig when my finger was inside that booty hole. Plus, my finger got inside that booty hole pretty freaking easily."

Kenzie stopped himself from taking a bite of the apple. "I am...disgusted," he wheezed.

"Well," I said, not chuckling at what would usually make me chuckle. I knew he was trying to make me at least smile, but I was resting by this stand, with a ring that did not belong to me in my hand. "He's gone."

"Who gone?" he asked. "Your virginity? Cause I got some bad news for you, playboy."

"Reece is gone," I replied.

I was so distracted spinning the ring in my hand that I didn't see when Kenzie crept closer to me. He always did move silently, but I chalked that up to him taking that Lil Wayne lyric too seriously.

"So what if he's gone?" he asked. "You got that white dick, you still in one piece mostly and he don't define you."

I looked up at my brother, who rested his hands on mine and took the ring out of my hands, resting it into his shirt pocket.

"Don't let no fuckboi define you," he told me. "Take it from a fuckboi. We love it when emotional biddies get attached. Then we can come over, drop a few lines, get that poussey, dip to our other lil thing then come back when we miss it. Let that fool walk like Jesus in the wilderness, if he wants to walk."

I shrugged at him. "I thought only black boys were scummy," I said. "Turns out, that's all dudes."

"Not all," he snorted. "You decent as fuck, you sissy redbone."

"Whatever," I snorted back at him.

"Don't let romance define you. Don't get caught up in the bullshit that these books and movies push on you. That you need some wild, over-the-top love of your life. Cause the fucking truth that Walt Disney don't want to tell us is that happily ever after ain't a thing. Forever doesn't last forever. Cinderella got cheated on. That Egyptian nigga raw-dogged Jasmine, got her pregnant and left her for her light skin cousin, Tasha. Them dwarves still probably pulling a whole train on Snow White while her nigga to work."

"Stop ruining my childhood." I slipped back onto the bed and eyed him. He at least looked like he showered. His hair was only as messy as it normally was. "And who you anyway, ghetto Yoda?"

"Only if the force is a Smith and Wesson," he joked. "But for real. We need to change some things." I folded my arms, as he sat down next to me "I...applied for some jobs while you were in here being a pussy over a shoulder wound."

"Jobs where?" I asked.

He lowered his head. "Wal-Mart, Wendy's..."

"You mean the modern day slave plantations?" I bounced back. "I'd rather you join a gang or something. At least you'd get compensated fairly."

"I ain't got no other skills, nigga," he blurted. "What other place is gonna hire a heavily tattooed dude with gold-teeth?"

"You could rap," I snorted. He flared up the right side of his lips. "Somewhere," I answered, more soberly.

Kenzie's nose flared up this time, like he whiffed something awful. "Nah. What you don't get is that they rigged this shit against us. We gotta talk a whole different way during interviews; we gotta tone down the blackness to get the job. We gotta become them just to live a decent life."

"When did you become so woke?" I asked. "And preachy. It's sort of off-putting."

Kenzie pushed me a bit, as playful as my rough brother allowed himself to become. "Well I learn from you." He stood up. "I'm gonna make some changes after I handle a bit of business."

"Kenzie," I warned. "Leave Dom alone."

"He shot up a church, Ash," Kenzie barked. "Dee's funeral. Mrs. Devon is in critical condition. He won't just accept my surrender. He wants to kill me. So, it's either kill him and then change, or change and then die."

I tapped my fingers on the metal stand. "Does it have to be murder?" I asked.

"If it were just me who he was after, I wouldn't really care," he said. "Like just kill me and fuck it would be over. But he's clearly got it out for me, my homies, and my family and he won't stop until all of us is dead." Kenzie settled my hands, so I would stop the thumping. "I bet that Erika hoe had something to do with this. I bet she meant standing there in the middle of that hall so you could save her black, psycho ass."

I shook my head, sending the room into a fuzzy blur white mess. Those pain killers still hadn't worn off and the after effects were getting rough. "Erika..." I stopped to settle myself a bit more, to pull my feet up onto the bed and hold onto the sheets. "Erika knows me, but she doesn't know me that well. Or at least she doesn't know that," I said. "She looked as shocked as we did when the shooting started."

I paused a moment. And thought back. Declan was there too. And he walked out the second that shooting had begun.

"You gettin' a brain blast, Jimmy?" Kenzie asked. "Think, think thiiink."

"Shut it, Kenneth," I growled. "Declan was working with Erika. But, when Dom shot up the church, Erika was there. Declan got out in time. Declan screwed Erika over."

Kenzie wheezed through his laughter. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer broad."

I looked around the room. "Where's Erika? I haven't heard anything on her."

"How should I know?" Kenzie replied. "Hopefully she's been recalled by Psycho Bitches Incorporated and sent back to the Chinese sweat shop she was created in to be shot in the fucking head."

"I'll reward the cleverness of that later," I grumbled and stood back to my feet. Kenzie backed up a little and bit into the apple, before just throwing it to the side somewhere in the room. Of course he did. "Erika is in danger."

Kenzie continued chewing.

"Kenzie, Declan is trying to kill Erika," I growled.

He swallowed.

"What does Dom do?" I asked.

"He's a rival CEO," Kenzie replied. "Storytime: Dom and I were boys. We started this weed shit together. He came up with the product and I'd sell it in the most creative ways, you know? Like, we were two peas in a pod. Or two niggas in a stretch Cadillac. But as our company grew, and our market size grew, we started disagreeing over shit. So, I pushed him out."

I blinked. "Of the company?"

Kenzie blinked, and then nodded slowly. "That too."

"So, you were basically running the weed equivalent to Apple," I drawled. "And you Steve Jobs-ed him?"

Kenzie shrugged. "It actually is more of a Destiny's Child situation. I Beyoncé-d him would be a much more accurate made-up verb here." He paused. "Plus, erryone knew I was the Beyoncé and he was the Miranda."

"It's Michelle."

He flailed. "Who-the-fuck cares."

"Dom does, apparently," I yapped. "He cares enough to form an alliance with Declan. The only question I have is how they even knew each other."

Kenzie snorted. "How? White boys love weed. The only thing white boys love more than weed is listening to twentyonepilots while high on weed. And I heard Dom just opened up an assassinations division in his weed company."

I cocked my head. "He opened a what?"

"I know," Kenzie sighed, shaking his head. "Instead of hiring hitmen, he saved himself and his company money by cutting out the middle-man. Nigga beat me to that shit."

"Kenzie this serious," I growled.

"What do you want me to say?" he barked back. "Erika trusted a shady white man and that shady white did what sahdy white man have done since white men gained the ability to be shady: he gained her trust, used her for her resources, fucked her over and then tried to erase her from existence. She got Christopher Columbus-ed. A Niggajawea, if you will. Hopefully her descendants get reparations for it in a few hundred years."

"I can't let her die," I said.

"Why the fuck not?" he asked.

"Because." I stopped. I swallowed. I inhaled. I exhaled. I tried to relax, but I couldn't. "Erika is an awful person. I know that now. But. Awful people can change. She...can, I don't know. She can turn herself in and end this stuff. She could serve her time in prison. People can realize their mistakes, and try to atone for those mistakes before it's too late. No one else has to die."

Kenzie blinked at me, then sighed. "Ash. Some people deserve second chances. Others don't. Erika ain't Dennis."

"I didn't say she was," I snapped.

"I understand subtext, nigga," he blurted. "I know you feel like since Dennis betrayed you and Erika has done the same thing that she gonna get on some redemption arc and atone for her sins, but Erika ain't gonna do that Ash. I guarantee you she ain't."

"How do you know that?"

Kenzie looked around the room twice; he scanned the walls the floors, the ceiling and craned his neck to look over my back. "I don't see the bitch in here saying thank you for taking a bullet for me." I eyed the floor. My bare feet. Kenzie's nike's. "She's not gonna do it, Ashley. She's gone, man. Let her go."

I swallowed so hard, I felt something tear inside my throat. "Why does everyone betray me?"

"You just got that: 'let me use this redbone and then move on' look to you," he said. That at least got a scrimmage of a laugh out of me. "And not erry-one betrayed you. I'm always gonna be here for my lil gay ass brother."

"What a frightening and heartwarming thought," I mumbled. But, I smiled. "Thanks, I guess."

Kenzie nodded. "Dom still gotta be stopped though," he said. "Or none of us will ever really be safe again, whether I leave the weed business or not."

"What do you suggest?" I asked him.

"We could try turning him in," Kenzie said. His face soured. "That ain't happenin' and you know it. The only way I see this ending is with blood, Ash. I know you're tryna be all pacifist or whatever, but not everyone gonna play by those rules and you shouldn't expect anyone to. Dom is either gonna kill us, or we gotta kill him."

I groaned. "Can we at least minimize the bloodshed?" I asked.

"I mean if we can get him to an area with not a lot of people are then maybe," he said. "We might be able to do that if we can find the thing he's after."

I waited for him to explain, but he didn't. "Fine," I snapped. "I'll bite. What is he after?"

"Erika," Kenzie said. "Declan has obviously got him contracted to kill Erika. If we can control where Erika is, we can most likely control where Dom is gon' be. If we can control where he is, we can lower the body count."

I exhaled with a hard, rough huff of breath. "I...might be able to control where Erika will be," I said. "But it would have to be something that would piss her off enough for her to actually consider meeting with me. She's not stupid enough to believe I'd go over to the dark side. Not now."

Kenzie shook his head, his locks swinging from side to side. "Ain't she crazy?" he asked. "Playing the wrong song could cause her to slit someone throat. Do yu really need some complicated plan to piss her off? And if so, what could you even come up with?"

If Erika's pride and joy was anything, it was the fact that she saw herself as a builder. She loved that she built Urban Life & Times. She loved that she thought that she made me; gave me everything I had. "I might have a solution," I murmured. "Where is everyone?"

"Front desk," Kenzie mumbled. "What you have up your sleeves?"

I jogged over to the other side of the bed, and slipped my feet into the tight, off-white shoes that the hospital had provided, since they had yet to return my clothes to me – being bloody and all. "We can get Erika to a safe place, where Dom can find her and you can just take him out or whatever."

I jogged out of the room, with Kenzie close behind me and into the lobby. At the end, I saw my little blended family all huddled together, talking softly amongst themselves. Pete was the first to notice me, phone in hand; then Lola talking to the nurse at the desk and finally then Nikko, tying her locks up into a bun with a red elastic-band.

I stopped in front of them. "Pete are you still able to write articles on Urban?"

Pete eyed me for a sec, confused. "I might. Our servers weren't damaged in the fire. I don't think Erika has changed any security codes, because of the fire."

"Good," I said. "I need you to release an article saying that Erika stepped down and she made me owner of it. That I'm the new Editor-In-Chief of Urban Life & Times."

"I'm in," Pete said, almost immediately and grabbed his phone out of his pocket.

Nikko raised his hand. "I'd rather you than Erika." He thought for a moment. "I'd rather Joseph Stalin than Erika."

Lola raised her hand. "I'm all for overthrowing the republic but, how is this going to be legal?"

"Oh lookie, Erika's sister is poking holes in this" Nikko grumbled at her.

"Oh, fuck you, you Rastafarian jock – go listen to Bob Marley while simultaneously eating fish and kicking a football or something," Lola spat back, rolling her eyes.

"Guys!" I whisper-yelled before they got into the infighting. "This this is important. I need all of us to agree to do this since if this blows up, we might all go down. So, I need votes from my board members."

"Hypothetical votes" Lola whispered.

"Theoretical votes, if you're going to be an asshole about it," Nikko grumbled.

"Fine, whatever," I responded. "I just need all of us to agree with getting Erika to a single place."

Lola's frown deepened. "I don't think we have a choice at this point," she said. "Erika...is dangerous.

"She betrayed us," Nikko said. "At least Judas had the decency to blow his fucking brains out."

"I...think he used a rope actually," Pete added.

"Judas blew his brain out with a rope?" Kenzie whispered.

"Can you all focus?" I snarled. "We need to vote."

Nikko raised his first, quickly. Both his hands shot into the air, fingers wiggling. Then Pete more slowly and pointedly. Then Kenzie, more lazily. And Lola. Well, Lola took a moment.

Then, she slowly raised her hand. I felt her pain in all of this. I couldn't imagine Kenzie doing what Erika did.

"Well, its official," I said. "Pete upload the article –or make a statement through one of our sister sites if she did change the password. That should get Erika's attention."

Pete nodded and started dialing on his phone, jogging down the hallway.

"I'll go make a few calls myself," Kenzie murmured and started after Pete, to the outside of the hospital.

I leaned against the wall, first eyeing the ceiling, before dropping my eyes back to Loa and Nikko, who were looking me over as much as possible.

"What?" I grumbled.

"Nothing," Nikko sang. "Just wondering if you're gonna tell us how big it was."

I rolled my eyes. "Can we not talk about Reece or his phallus?"

"You sure didn't seem to have a problem with his phallus a few hours ago," Lola replied.

Nikko snorted. "From the sounds you were making, it sounded like you had more red on you than Carrie did by the end of prom night."

"Okay," I blurted. "How long am I going to have to put up with the red references?"

"Red like your name Taylor Swift," Nikko said.

"Red like your name Bruce Willis," Lola added.

"Red like that sea Noah parted," the nurse at the counter mumbled. We all looked back at her. "Only in this instance that Reece kid is Noah and your booty was the red sea that he parted to let the Israelites pass through – which in this case is a metaphor for his semen or in this case sea men." I gaped. She just shrugged and returned to her computer screen. "I mean. We all heard you."

I shook my head. "Where do you guys think she is?" I asked.

"No idea," Lola grumbled. "Probably pushing someone else in front of a train."

"How long do you think it'll take for her to respond?" Nikko added. "I mean movies make it seem like its instant, but this could take hours."

"I doubt it," I said. "She's too far up her own ass to not hear about this the moment the story breaks."

"If she's not already capitalizing on it," Lola noted. Her eyes went up over my head and settled on something.

I spun around and angled my head up to where her eyes had settled in. It was a tv set hanging on the wall above the front desk. It was on TNT; looked like that Supernatural episode in which Dean kept dying and Sam kept waking up.

"She could be on the news right now," she said. "Playing this up in her favor."

"Well," Nikko muttered and grabbed the remote off of the table. "Let's find out."

The nurse looked up, face souring, eyebrows curving inward. "Hey, you can't-"

We all gave her the how you gonna stop us black person look. With the cocked head to the side, the raised eyebrow and the hands folded over the chest/ placed on the hips. She coughed her way back to her monitor.

Nikko started flipping through the news channels as we read the headlines one by one:

Should women have the right to choose to keep unborn babies? These three straight men debate the issue.

Best time of year to visit Florida: Don't.

Scientists unanimously agree to rename lemons 'Beyoncé'.

Donald Trump set to go a record 6 hours without being a racist, sexist fascist.

This just in: never mind.

This year's favorite sport played by white males: mass shootings

BREAKING: Reece Red makes a ground breaking statement.

"Stop," Lola whispered to Nikko. She took the remote from him, and swatted him a way when he tried to grab it back. "What ground breaking news?" she mumbled to herself.

Reece was speaking. The tv was muted, but he was on screen, in an expensive fuckboy suit, with his fuckboy eyes, moving his fuckboy lips. "Who cares?" I said. "We're looking for Erika."

Lola looked back at me. "Did you guys break it off or something?"

"It doesn't matter," I replied.

She slowly nodded, and turned the tv off. "Well, Erika isn't there. So, maybe we'll just have to wait."

I nodded. "I'm going to rest for a while longer."

Niko smirked. "Like you were resting anyway."

I rolled my eyes and spun around, heading back to my room. But when I got back, I had a visitor waiting for me.

"Erika?"

She spun around, dress taking a full minute to spin after she did. Her hands were in her front of her, clamped together. "Ashley." She sounded full of something. "We need to talk."

"Erika," I said, crawling through each letter. "How did you get here?"

"I was always here," she said. Her eyes narrowed. "They looked me over for wounds. If any of you cared you would have realized that I was only a few rooms over being checked out by doctors."

"Erika, who knows you're here?" I asked.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "What's going on?"

"Declan fucked you over, that's what's going on," I barked at her. "And if you're here, that means-"

A loud bang rang out and echoed through the room, bouncing off the white walls and smacking us both in the face.

"Dom is here to kill you, Erika."

Her frown deepened and worry gripped her eyes. "Why?"

"Because you sold your soul to the devil on credit and guess what bitch: he's here to collect payment!" I shouted at her. "We need to go before people die."

I ran back for the door. An alarm started to ring, loud and monstrous. Screams flooded the corridors. I looked both ways. People were running everywhere. Doctors and nurses, frantic; patients, scared and most helpless. I turned back to Erika.

She was still frozen in her spot. "Erika!" She looked up at me, broken from her daze. "Let's go!" She nodded frantically and came to the door. "We need to get out of here, and away from where all these patients are."

She looked left, where the front exit was. "We can't go that way. The shooters are most likely that way."

I looked right. I knew there was an elevator tucked in the right corner of the hallway, but that would lead the shooters up a few floors. The nursery was on the second floor with newborns. We couldn't risk that.

Another shot. Then another. And another round. More screaming. My phone started ringing from the counter, but I couldn't turn back now.

The both of us exited the room. I started left, but Erika gripped me by my arm and threw me right. "We cannot go that way!"

"Erika," I hissed at her. "The longer we stay in this hospital, the more lives we are putting at risk."

"I'm not getting shot, Ashley," she hissed back. "And neither are you. So, stop your arguing and let's go toward the elevators."

I started left again, she stood in my way. "Erika, don't catch these hands."

"Oh, please, Ashley," she spat, "You don't have the balls to hit me," she fired at me. "Now stop arguing."

"Get out of my way Erika."

"Make me, Ashley."

"We're going left," I growled.

"Right," she spat.

"Left."

"Right."

"Left."

"Right."

A bullet flew passed the space between us. Both our head snapped to the left. Masked men – three of them – were down the hall to the front entrance.

Erika and I glanced at one another. And for the first time in what felt like forever, we agreed. "RIGHT."

Erika took off running, with me close behind her. I could hear the bullets being fired; I'm pretty sure everyone this side of town could, but none hit us.

Erika turned the little bend that hid the elevator from view of the shooters, with me nesting right next to her. It wasn't a deep corner, shallow and unnecessary to say the least. She mashed the elevator button as soon as we got to it. I looked up to check the floor it was on and internally, and yet somehow, also externally groaning.

"Six?" Are you kidding me?" Erika grumbled.

"I'm going to die," I snarled at her. I looked up at the numbers. Floor five. "But at least you die too."

"Poetic justice?" she snapped back.

Floor four.

"Karmic retribution for you being an awful person, maybe," I said.

Floor three.

"That would explain why you're about to die with me," she hissed.

Floor two

"I'd deserve it for helping you so much," I said.

Floor one

"You helped yourself," she threw back.

Ground floor. The elevator rang. The doors parted, shaking and rattling; couldn't go any slower than they did.

I ran in first, Erika behind me.

She pressed the top floor button and the door started to close.

But.

A masked man had caught up to us. He pointed his gun. And just before the doors could close, he fired a bullet.

Reece

Preston tapped his wine glass a few times with his dinner fork.

The other boys had stopped laughing long enough for give him their attention. Edward, seated to my right, Kingsley down from him, and Declan to my left, as well as I all stared over and up at Preston as he stood from his seat on the opposite side of me.

"I'm reminded of a biblical story right now that Pastor Samuel talked about last week at church before I had to leave to oversee a klan meeting," he began. "The Prodigal Son. He leaves home, gets lost, finds himself and comes back home to the open arms of his father – his family."

"Heartwarming," Declan mumbled, raising his glass. "I would shed a tear if crying wasn't a sign of effeminate inferiority."

We all laughed.

"Reece," Preston said, hissing the edge of my name for a few seconds. "My heart is heavy knowing that we had to take a more brutal way to encourage you to come back to us, but that is in the past now. You strayed, but you came back, despite the odds. I'm reminded of a quote by a great, fearless leader who died far before his time was up: 'obstacles do not exist to be surrendered to, but only to be broken'."

I nodded. "Lincoln said that?" I asked.

"Close," he laughed, "Hitler."

"Of course," I mumbled.

"So, welcome back our Alpha brother." His smile faded for a moment. "And may you never stray away again."

The four boys tapped there glasses, as Preston sat down and Dec stood.

"Reece, you and I have been friends for so very long. Just thinking back to the great times we had together makes me....so happy, you know?" he said, looking to the sky with a glaze in his eyes. "Trying on matching polo shirts and Old Navy blue shorts to go golfing in. Seeing who could harass the most women. The way you corrected all my grammatical errors when I was posting that YouTube comment that one time I was in an argument after calling Beyoncé a big booty hoe with no talent whatsoever." He sniffed and dabbed his eyes. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry." He fanned them as he looked back down at me. "You are truly my best friend, Reece. It does my heart good to see you back where you belong, with no ring on your finger, with your true family. Your real brothers."

He sat down and I stood next.

"Um, I know that it's been sort of a bumpy road and whatnot. I've...traveled so far into their world that I almost forgot what is was like to sit at a dinner table here at Preston's house, surrounded by you guys," I said. "I guess this brand on my hand will symbolize more than just a warning for me about the dangers of straying away from my brothers. I will have to live everyday with it; wake up to it, see it when I shower, when I sleep. It is a reminder." I looked to the butler – black – and pointed to the bottle of wine I had brought for the occasion.

He nodded, got the bottle, opened it and began to pour it in each boy's cup as I started up again. "A fine bottle of white wine for four very fine white men," I said and the four of them laughed, taking sips. "You guys have been there for me through some of my roughest times. Declan you were there when my dad was diagnosed with dementia – or well, you sent a funny postcard since you were on a ski trip in the Alps. Edward, you slept with my girlfriend in college to prove to me that she was a slutty whore. Kingsley, you framed that black kid so effortlessly for breaking and entering into the girl's dorms and got him expelled. And Preston." I stopped to clink my glass a few times. "You taught me the best lesson of all: people can change."

Preston raised his glass to me.

"So," I sang, "drink my friends. And thank you."

And they drank. And I sat down. And I peered over to Declan. He stared back, after taking a few sips of his wine. "I'm glad you're back."

"I am too," I replied. "He would have probably cheated on me with another black guy anyway."

Dec laughed. "Well, you've still got Dylan."

I snickered. "Right." I waited. "So, what's going to happen now with you and Erika? Now that I am back?"

Declan took another sip. "I actually broke off our agreement. I hired a hitman to...clean up."

"Oh," I said. "Can...you like call it off?"

Dec snorted with a light cough. "Why would I do that?"

"Just small talk," I mumbled and looked at my glass of wine. Red. I never did have a thing for white wine. "I'm back so I don't see the need for it, is all."

Declan frowned. "It's a loose end, Reece," he said. "We don't leave loose ends." I nodded slowly. "So," he drawled, right before finishing the rest of his drink, "how did you dump him?"

"Left the ring on the counter and walked out after we had sex," I said.

Declan coughed a bit again. "That's ice cold." He reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder, like he always did. "I know it's hard to...let things go, but we must if we want to move forward."

I stared at him; into his eyes, his big blue and green eyes. "I agree," I replied. "We have to let go of toxic things, or they'll just end up killing us in the end."

"Reece," Preston said, coughing lightly. "Ae you going to join us for golf tomorrow?" he asked.

"We'd love for you to referee," Kingsley said, hiccupping out a cough.

"I would love to," I answered. "But, I don't think that will be possible."

"Why not?" Edward asked, covering his mouth with a napkin, coughing into it.

Declan coughed a bit harder this time, grabbing his napkin to heave into.

I blinked between the four boys, all reaching for water or wine to stop it. "You won't be here to."

They coughed and coughed and coughed, until blood spat out of Edward's mouth onto the table. Preston shot up from his seat and fell backwards out of his chair. Declan tore at his throat, through clenched teeth with blood escaping through the cracks. Kingsley had gone into a seizing fit in his seat, foaming at the mouth – foaming red.

I stood from my seat at the four boys groaned and coughed, howled and moaned, trying to scream for help – like I did – but their words were being drowned by the poison. "You know," I started, raising my glass filled with red wine, "You should have thrown me out of the window the second you burned those letters into my arm. You should have killed me. Maybe then I wouldn't have seen the person I stood to lose if this continued; if I decided to allow this to sink me." Kingsley stopped moving, head craned backward against his seat, eyes bleeding red tears. "You represent who I was and the memories of the awful person I was. It's time I laid those memories to rest – literally." Edward stopped twitching, his head falling onto the table, eyes rolling over into the back of his head. "I thought to myself, how could I possibly get away with this. I'm about to kill four rich white guys: the cops will be all over this. It's crazy. But then I recalled something a young lady said to me: white people are crazy. So I thought, 'what the hell'." Declan reached for my hand, but it grew limp. His eyes grew dim. His skin was pale. He coughed some more, then he fell forward, his head breaking the wine glass on the table. I moved around the table, to where Preston was puffin, his skin purple, his veins green and running through his face like intersections on a highway. I knelt down next to him, right next to his ears. "Give my best to Adolf." He took his last breath.

"Are you ready, Reece?" Ashley Two asked, her hair tied up into a mini mountain and her glasses resting on it.

I swallowed. "Yeah."

"Should we have a head ups on what this statement you're going to make is about?" she asked. "I asked Liza, and she's as in the dark as the rest of us are about it. Your shareholders are nervous, your employees are nervous, I'm nervous."

"You're about to find out," I muttered and cleared my throat.

She fixed my tie and smiled. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it'll make us proud."

I swallowed, eyes turning to the camera. The cameraman puts his fingers in the air for the countdown. "In three, two..."

The red light turned on. I cleared my throat again. I've never been camera shy (as my many, many sex tapes will attest to) but for the first time, I felt like I was going to sweat after this one. And not for the reasons I was sweating in the other tapes.

"Good, uh, evening....world, I guess?" I began, laughing as awkward as awkwardly a laugh could be. This stool was now pretty uncomfortable and my hands were so far in my lap that I was surprised the stitching of my jeans didn't latch onto them. "I find myself sitting here, on this stool, staring into a camera. I haven't done this since I took over for my dad. I guess it's fitting that it ends the way it began."

I looked left for a moment. Liza was standing by Ashley, eye me carefully.

I returned to the camera. "All my life I've lived with the knowledge that with great power comes great responsibility. But what I'm responsible for isn't who I am as a person. I've changed – I've grown. What piqued my interests a few months ago doesn't now. I look at the word without the white colored classes that I have had on my entire life. I know if my father was here to see me right now – to hear what I'm saying – he'd be a big bag of emotions. He's always taught me that duty to our family, to our brand is most important. So has my mother. He'd be angry, he'd be sad, he'd be enraged. But love is the death of duty and I'm in love. I don't want to straddle the two sides of this fence anymore." I exhaled. "I have sold my hares at half the price they are worth. I have already stepped down at CEO if RED CORP and will effectively immediately no longer associated with the RED brand."

I looked back at Liza. She was smiling, just a bit.

"But," I said, glaring at the camera, "before I do leave my post, I would be remiss if I didn't let the world know that a few years ago, my mother and my father had a black man unlawfully imprisoned when they bribed a judge. I have turned over every piece of evidence I have of that bribery to the local authorities that I found in a secret room inside her bedroom."

"I speak directly to you now mother, who I know is watching this, quaking in her stilettos, throwing her gloves to the side of the room in anger, cursing at her son and saying how much she hates him. Thank you. For making me the man I am; for equipping me with the right amount of armor, helping me to realize that I may lose somethings, but I still stand to gain so much more. And thank you for giving me Ashley." I smiled. "Good night, everyone."

The red light turned off. I closed my eyes and breathed in, and breathed out. Soon, arms were around me. "That was crazy spectacular," Liza said. "Mom is going to literally transform into a dragon and eat your head off, but that was incredible."

She let me go and lifted my chin to meet her eyes. "You think Ashley caught that?" I asked.

Liza smiled. "What else does he have to do right now?"

Light piano was playing when Liza and I stepped through Red Manor's double doors.

We eyed each other carefully, eyes slimming before we enter the foyer. Broken chairs lined the floor. Statues of the greek gods that lined the room had all been smashed on the ground. The chandelier had somehow been pulled from the ceiling and smashed into thousands – millions of pieces on the ground.

And in the center of the room, amongst the chaos, mother, in a big black dress that drenched the floor sat at the white piano, playing. Fur Elise.

We stood behind her while she played, a glass of red wine seated on the piano top. Her gloves were on the floor next to her feet.

"I was wondering when you'd show your faces," she said. Liza jumped a little. I saw it coming. "My wretched hell-spawned, liberal children."

"The police will be here any minute," I said.

"I've already packed my make-up bag," she answered. "A few fur coats just in case it's chilly."

"I don't think you understand the severity of this situation," Liza mumbled. "You're going to prison, mom."

"Shut the fuck up, Lao Ma," Mother sung, in tune with the music. She still hadn't looked back at us. "I should have packed you back in the Amazon box we took you out of and shipped you back to Korea while the warrantee on you was still good."

"You're an awful person," Liza threw at her. "Why didn't I see that before?"

"Maybe it was the money?" Mother asked. "I did give you everything you have. You'd be working in some sweatshop assembling Apple products if your father and I hadn't rescued you, you ungrateful brat." She stopped playing and spun around.

We both gasped. Her black eyeliner had smudged her face, like she had been crying black tears. Her red lipstick barley stayed on her lips, like a three year old learning to draw within the lines was her makeup artist.

"I will never forgive or forget this," she hissed. "Your father is upstairs, in an induced coma, and he will not know that his beloved, faithful wife is being carted off to prison."

"You deserve it," I said. "You got a man arrested, mother."

She rolled her eyes. She lifted her drink and sipped it, before throwing the entire glass at the wall. "Oh, go fuck yourself, Gandhi."

The doors broke open behind us. Even I pitched a little this time. Police officers swarmed in, aiming guns at Mother.

She straightened her dress and primped her messy bun. "Liza, be a dear and bring your mother's bags for her?"

A police officer went over and cuffed her, and they started to guide her out of the house.

She looked at me with so much rage it almost felt like it could burn my skin. Almost. "You better hope they sentence me to the electric chair, because if and when I get out, I am going to find you, smother you with a pillow while – forcing whatever tied up hussy of the week is crying next to you – and when you've taken your last few gasps of breath and the life slips from your eyes, I am going to cut off your manhood and proceed to shove it into your eyeballs out of your head before burning your mortal remains in a pyre lit by your children's bones, that I also murdered in their sle-"

The door closed.

I turned to Liza, who sat down by the piano. "You realized what we just did, right?" she asked.

"Yup," I said, going over and sitting next to her. "I do."

Ashley

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Erika asked.

I looked down at her. "Why would I be enjoying this?"

She laughed, motioning to the bullet wound in her chest, where blood had soaked the shirt I gave her, turning it red. "You think I deserve this."

"That's because you do, Erika," I said. "You actually do deserve this." I paused. "That doesn't mean I'm enjoying it. Only evil people enjoy watching others get shot and die."

"Not even a little?" she asked while smiling. She wiped the blood that was coming through her mouth away. She lifted her hand and did a pinch. "Not even a teensy bit?"

"Erika, you're dying, can you not do this right now?" I barked at her, pacing the elevator. I picked up the elevator phone again. I was still dead. Somehow, the power to the elevator got cut – maybe the entire hospital, God forbid – and we were trapped inside of it.

Erika got shot.

She had taken a bullet right before the door closed on us. She didn't look like she was going to make it either, if the paling of her face said anything. Probably knowing that, she had reassigned to make her last moments on earth a living hell for me, instead of her.

"Don't you at least want to know why I came to your room?" she asked, propped up against the wall, sluggishly holding my shirt to her chest. "I know it must be on your mind."

"It's not actually," I said, hanging the phone back up and huffing. "In case you haven't realized, we have more concerning matters to tend to. Like you bleeding out all over the floor."

She laughed through fits of coughing. "I came to gloat," she said. "You took a bullet for me after everything I did to you. It's like Anna said before I pushed her in front of that train, splattering her brains everywhere: 'you are a brainwashed'. A puppet. Dark Vader to my Palpatine." She tried to slide herself up, but failed, sighed and just stayed where she was in her uncomfortable position. "Except unlike Darth Sidious, I actually win in death."

"How do you figure that?" I asked.

She smiled and red stained her teeth, it leaked out like water through cracks in a wall. I grimaced. Seeing red had never been more upsetting.

"All the greats die before their time," she answered. "Lincoln. King Jr. X. And now Bridgewater. I will be immortal. I hope they use a good sculptor for my statue."

"You're clinically insane."

"I've never felt saner in my life," she replied. She stared up at me. "Why did you save me in that church?"

"Shut up, Erika," I mumbled, sliding down against the elevator doors opposite her.

"I'm genuinely curious," she said. Her words had begun to jumble together. "I know it's not because you love me. So, why?"

"Shut up, Erika."

"God, don't tell me it's because you're a god person and that you didn't want any more murders to happen," she mocked. "You're weaker than I thought you were Ashley. I thought I had taught you enough, but it's clear that the student isn't ready to become the master. You even gave me the shirt off of your back to try and keep me alive. You are still too buoyed down by your misguided sense of righteousness. It got you shot, Mr. King and soon it will get you killed."

"You know Erika," I began. I clenched my jaw. "Everyone thinks that my righteousness is some sort of flaw. Everyone wants me to be more self-centered and think more logically. Use my brain instead of my heart. What you don't understand since you're literally psychotic is that it's not a switch that I can turn on and off. It's who I am. It isn't an act. I want to believe that some people can be changed; I enjoy seeing the good in people. I want to forgive those who deserve forgiveness. I have forgiven Dennis and someday I will forgive you too. I saved you because it's who I am as a person. That may seem like an error in judgement to you; like a moment of weakness. But to me it shows a moment of restraint, of goodness, of strength."

"Great speech," she cackled. "I'm almost moved by it."

I sighed. "I wish this could have ended differently."

"Don't we all my friend," she replied.

"We aren't friends," I threw.

Before she could reply, the elevator jolted awake. The lights flashed, and we started moving again. The telephone began to ring again and I shot my feet and over to it. "Hello?" I breathed into it. "We're stuck in the elevator in the hospital; someone has been shot and we need assistance."

"I am standing outside the elevator to the sixth floor," Dom said on the other line. "Give us Erika."

"Go fuck yourself," I responded. "I'm not handing anyone over to be shot and killed."

"Then die along with her; I owe your brother that much anyway." He hung up.

"Aw," Erika cooed from behind me. "You're an awesome friend, Ashley."

"We aren't friends."

The elevator shook again, as elevator music started to softly play. A Whitney Houston song.

Count on me through thick and thin. A friendship that will never end. When you are week I will be strong. Helping you to carry on. Call on me, I will be there. Don't be afraid. Please believe when I say, count on...you can count on me.

Erika hummed along. "I don't know what tastes weirder," she said, "my own blood or the irony." She thought. "The blood."

The elevator stopped on the sixth floor. Gun shots fired on the outside of it. I backed up next to Erika, who coughed up another round of blood. I looked down at her eyes had fluttered to a close. She reached out and gripped my hand, tightening her grip around my wrist as she coughed up more blood.

The elevator settled one more time. T doors opened. Someone was on the floor, but I couldn't tell who it was. But someone was standing over his body in a pair of nikes. My eyes ran up from them, up the jeans to the red shirt and to the face. He stepped inside of the elevator, gun pointed at the both of us. "Is she dead?" he asked.

I looked over at Erika. Her eyes were open, but her body was slouching against the wall, like a dummy. I touched her neck – cold and no beating, no throbbing, no pulse. I frowned and covered her eyes, bringing them to a close. "Yeah."

Kenzie looked back at me and kneeled down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I muttered. "It's like you said, I doubt this would have ended any other way."

He unloaded his gun and knelt down next to me. "The police are on their way I'm guessing," he said.

"And Dom?" I asked, getting up off of the floor. "Where is he?"

Kenzie rose with me and looked back at the body on the ground, outside of the doors. "He won't be bothering us for a good minute."

I huffed. "I'd like to rebuke you for killing, but you just saved my life, so thank you," I grumbled.

"Love you too, bro," he said, ruffling my hair.

"Jesus Christ, Ashley," Pete said when I walked back into my room. "We were all scared to death."

Lola got up from my bed and came over, looking me over. "This isn't your blood," she noted. She looked up into my eyes. "Whose is it?" she asked, but she knew the answer to that. "Died Erika ever call?" she asked, and she knew the answer to that one too; deep down she did.

"I'm sorry, Lola," I said.

Her jaw clenched, and she walked passed me and out of the room.

"Is it bad I don't care Erika's dead?" Nikko asked. "Because I don't care, like at all."

"I do," Pete said, hugging himself a little. "She taught us a lot. Sure, for her own nefarious purposes, but she still did. It's going to be weird not having her around anymore."

"Good riddance if you ask me," Nikko grumbled. "She doesn't deserve our sympathy."

"But Lola does," I responded to him. "What kind of person would I be if I didn't sympathize with Mrs. Devon about losing her son just because he cheated on me? It would make me no better than he is – or was."

Nikko shrugged his shoulders. "Fine. I'll play nice with her."

I changed my clothes and we were all just hanging around as the police questioned us for a few minutes. Kenzie was actually thanked for ending the carnage before it got any worse. Only three people were critically injured, luckily. Four deaths – Erika, Dom, one of Dom's men and Mrs. Devon.

I frowned when I heard she did, but at least she'd be at peace.

"Yo, Ash?" Kenzie squeaked, poking his head through the door. "A drag queen is out here asking for you? He's calling you his...daughter?"

I blinked. And then I sorta smiled and exited the room, and followed Kenneth to the lobby. She was sitting in her long red dress and her black sandals legs crossed in her phone.

"Momma," I sang with a smile.

Patti – my gay mother – stood and smiled, moving her golden hair and swiping it over her shoulder. Her hands then ran to her hips. "It's been a while, Paige," she hummed. "Were you never planning on coming to see your mother again before she got old and died?"

"You're twenty-nine," I snorted. "And you moved to Chicago."

She hoisted her purse over her shoulder and cocked her head, her locks falling with it to the side. She was a few inches taller than me. "And that means you don't return any of my calls, or call me up? Or are you too busy having sex with white boys to do that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, momma."

She pursed her lips. "How are your sisters?"

I shrugged. "I haven't spoken to Phoebe or Piper in a while," I said. "Not since Prue died."

"Is any of this going to start making sense to me in a bit?" Kenzie asked who I had just realized was standing next to me. "Why is he calling you Paige and why you callin' this budget RuPaul'momma'?"

Patti looked Kenzie up and down. "Who's the trade?" she asked.

I snorted. "He's my blood brother."

"Trade?" Kenzie mumbled. "What's a trade?"

"A better question would be why you know who RuPaul is?" she asked. "Do you enjoy Frank Ocean too? Drink peach snap? A little margarita to unwind at the end of the day while watching Scandal? Do you say 'they', instead of 'she' when describing your ideal partner?"

"Knock it off, Momma," I chuckled. "Kenzie isn't well versed on the black gay community and the inner workings."

My brother rolled his eyes and marched off, back down to the hall, presumably to my room.

"Mhmm," she hummed, following him with her eyes for a second before she returned them to me; they softened again. "Are you doing okay? I got news about Dennis. And after I heard you had been shot, I had to get on a plane and come see you as quickly as I could." She eyed me. "Didn't I tell you that Erika hoe was shadier than a palm tree?"

I huffed. "Yes."

"I've a twenty-nine year old gay," she said. "You don't survive in this community to that age without knowing how to sniff out the frauds." She placed her hands on her waist. "What's our house's motto?"

I grumbled underneath my breath. "Fuck no nigga and trust no bitch."

She raised her chin to the sky, but kept her eyes down on me. "You seem to have forgotten that," she said. "Where's your real Momma?" she asked, looking around a bit. "I haven't spoken to Ella in a few months."

I raised a brow. "You still speak to Ma?"

"Maybe if your black ass would answer my damn phone calls then I wouldn't have to," she growled. "But yes. We talk sometimes."

"I kinda don't know," I said. "I know they said she was here when I was asleep. I guess they convinced her to go and get rest."

She threw her purse over her shoulder. "I'm gonna go and check up on her." She paused. "By the way, I may not understand the appeal of dating a white boy, but after the things he said on that newscast about you, and the things he gave up , your mother just pull an Angelina and steal me a Brad from a Jennifer."

I laughed. Then I stopped and blinked. "Wait. What things did he say?"

Reece

"A Mr. O'Brien is here to see you, Master Red," Lucas said, as Dylan O'Brien walked into the kitchen.

"Reece," he greeted.

"Dylan?" I mumbled, standing to my feet. "The only person I'd be more surprised to see here in the RED Manor is Ella fucking Red right now."

He chuckled and sat down on a stool, next to me. "I saw what you did on television and I want to say that I thought it was the bravest, most unselfish thing I've ever seen you done. And as someone who has had multiple threesomes with you and Morris Chestnut in which you graciously bottomed when I couldn't take it anymore, that's saying a lot."

"I'm literally sitting right here," Liza said, gagging a bit.

Dylan rolled his eyes at her. "Hello, Lucille."

"It's Liza."

"Okay, Linda." He replied, dismissing her with a hand wave. I just noticed he had cut off all his hair. His eyes returned to me and he smiled. "I thought it was noble." It crept closer and placed a hand on top of mine. "You know how I sexy I find altruism," he cooed, licking his lips.

"Yeah..." I dragged, slipping my hand from under his and tucking them securely into my pockets. "I don't think Ashley would appreciate...um...this."

"He can join I'm totally find with that," he replied. "I can take it all now – I've been practicing with various down-low rappers. Fun fact: I'm Becky With The Good Hair."

I glanced at Liza, who had stopped eating her noodles long enough to share my look. "I've had enough of the crazy shit today, to be quite honest." She picked up her bowl and left the kitchen, but not before looking back at Dylan. "If I were you, I'd leave before Ashley shows up here wearing a yellow sun dress with a bat. It won't end well for you and the fire hydrants in the area."

Dylan snorted. "Has he even been here yet?" he asked. "Will he even come?" He scoffed. "I doubt it, Reece. If it were me you had professed love to like that on national television, giving up your company for love – I mean personally? I'd already have been on my knees just going to town on you. He's not coming."

Lucas reentered the kitchen. "A Mr. King is here to see you sir."

And in walked Ashley. The male one. His hair as high Everest – curly jet black snow resting atop a brown mountain.

"Mr. King," I said. His name tasted like sugar on my tongue. "I thought you'd never show.

Ashley didn't speak. Not with his mouth anyway. He spoke with his eyes. They curled up into crescent moons; he smiled brighter than I've ever seen him – an actually happy smile. His cast was off. "Has any black person been on time for anything, ever?"

I smiled. "Would it be racist if I answered that?"

"If you have to ask, the answer is usually yes," he said, still smiling. For a whole minute. A record.

"Isn't this touching," Dylan cooed next to me.

Ashley's smile slipped. Uh oh. "Who the fuck is this rice crispy looking cracker?" he pointed at Dylan. "And why is he so pale? Do you have a vitamin D deficiency? Are you Twink Dracula? Are you the white gay version of that girl from Everything, Everything?"

Dylan clutched his chest. "TV's Dylan O'Brien? Teen Wolf?"

Ashley blinked.

"The Maze Runner?"

Ashley blinked again. "Is that some white movie I'm supposed to be aware of?"

Dylan was turning red. "I'm going to leave."

"I think that's best," Ash told him, nodding his head, with half of his lip flared into the sky.

Dylan was prepared to walk ass Ash, but the Holy Ghost stopped him. "I'm just going to leave through the back door." He said and exited through the kitchen's door. At least he wasn't wearing a yellow sundress.

Ashley eyed me for a moment. "If we're gonna date, you should know that I slice niggas."

I raised my hand in surrender. "You won't have to worry about that."

"That's what every boy says," he grumbled and came into the kitchen and over to me, stopping just a few millimeters away from my lips, but that wasn't good enough for me. Fuck this sexual tension coy shit.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. He responded in kind. And after our hands found themselves all over each other's bodies and we had stopped long enough to catch our breath, and mashed our heads together, we found ourselves laughing.

"It's great seeing you King," I said.

He smiled. "And it's great seeing you, Red."