In its purest form, an act of retribution provides symmetry, the rendering of payment for crimes against the innocent, but the danger of retaliation lies in furthering the cycle of violence. Still, it’s a risk that must be met when the greater offense is to allow the guilty to go unpunished.
—Emily Thorne
Chapter Twelve
We stopped back by the house so that I could redo my makeup before the party. I didn’t believe in having a makeup artist all up in my grill for anything outside of photo shoots or performances. Daddy had paid a ton for me to be naturally beautiful, so it wasn’t that serious. However, I realized that people would be taking photos of me all evening at Bianca’s event and, quite frankly, I wanted them all to be pressed to even get next to me. It was all a part of the plan for Wicket, the Wicket, to attend the event of an opportunist in Atlanta was a big fucking deal.
I also decided to change. All the emotions that broke out of me at Marcella’s had me thrown for a loop. I had intended to speak with her about Hannah. She was such an integral part of my life and it had to be addressed if I ever wanted to be helped. I hadn’t expected it to practically throw me into a mental break, though. I was being honest when I said that I believed that there was nothing I could’ve done to save Hannah. Her mind was made up and, if I were being honest, she was entitled to end her life if she saw fit to do so. I had watched several documentaries and news stories about “right to die” laws and controversies. No, Hannah was not battling terminal cancer or excruciating brain tumors but, to her, it was just as painful.
I remembered how I felt when I was disfigured. From the ages of seven to almost eighteen, I believed that I was subpar to others. I felt like no one would ever want me. After all, that was my mother’s intention when she slashed my face that day in the kitchen. She wanted to break the Tatum curse, but as I matured, I reali
zed that the curse began and ended with my uncle Donald. He was the sick one, and I would never know why he was so sadistic. Maybe he was touched by someone, raped prior to being attacked in jail, as the rumors had it upon his death. Maybe it did go back for generations, but all that I ever knew about was him raping my mother and, according to her, also raping Grandma. What a crazy notion that he could have been both my father and my grandfather.
I needed a drink before that fucking party. I hit the buzzer on the intercom and instructed one of the housekeepers to bring me a bottle of 1990 Henri Jayer Vosne-Romanée. Nothing like a five-thousand-dollar bottle of wine to calm the nerves.
Once she brought it up in an ice bucket, I had her draw me a bath while she was there. I put on “Make Me Whole” by Amel Larrieux as I ditched the gold minidress and heels. I sunk down in the suds and closed my eyes, thinking about what my next moves would be with Bianca, Cherie, and their bitch-ass men. I really, really wanted to see them all die but knew that wasn’t right. Even though they deserved it, no one had made me their executioner. But I would most certainly make them pay, one way or another.
I heard someone stirring in my bedroom. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” Diederik responded. “Just came in to check on you, but I see you’re in the tub.” He could see me through the open doorway. “You still planning on attending that party? Maybe you should just chill. You seemed upset earlier.”
“No, I’m good. I still want to attend. You all have time to change if you want.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
He was about to leave when I called out to him. “Can you wash my back before you go?”
“Sure.” He walked into the bathroom, already rolling up the sleeves of his white, button-down shirt. “My pleasure.”
Like Kagiso and Antonio, Diederik had seen me naked plenty of times. I didn’t feel like doing anything kinky right then, though.
“Thanks,” I said as he picked up a loofah and started gently scrubbing my back.
He worked in silence as “Never Make a Promise” by Dru Hill came on. I closed my eyes and listened to the lyrics. Once it ended, Diederik said, “That good?”
“Perfect, thanks.”
He got up from the side of the tub and was about to leave when he paused in the doorway. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. What?”
“What’s going on? Why are we really here in Atlanta?”
“Change of pace. We won’t be here forever. What? You and the other guys don’t like it?”
“Where you roll, we roll. You know that. It’s just that you seem different: like this place is doing something to you.”
“That’s silly. I’ve never even been to Atlanta until we came here,” I lied. “If you’re referring to me seeing Dr. Spencer, that has nothing to do with this city, or the people in it. I’m trying to work through my issues that have been around for a very long time.”
“You’ve been through hell,” he admitted. “We all know that.”
You don’t know the half of it, I thought.
“I want you to know that if you ever need us to do anything . . . anything, if you get my drift, all you have to do is ask.”
Diederik was talking about killing someone for me!
“No one will ever suspect a thing. We’re very good at what we do.”