Chapter 29
Reagan ran into the house, the door slamming behind her. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and her face was hurting from her constant smiles. Her cream purse slid off her shoulder until she snatched it off and flung it on the couch. She patted herself down in search of her cell phone, and when she remembered it was in her purse, she smiled even harder at her excitement and jumped on the couch, knees first. Her hands rummaged through her purse like the Tasmanian Devil.
After class, her Realtor had contacted her, informing her that she had a place she believed would be perfect to start her practice. The minute Reagan laid eyes on the all-glass two-story office space with a garden and glass stairs, her heart came to a halt and her eyes to a shimmer. This place was like a dream, and Reagan wanted to be there forever. She was far from materialistic, but this screamed class and money. She looked outside at the people walking down the streets of South Beach and smiled back at those gawking at her. Their minds wondered if this breathtaking woman would purchase this space and open another store so they could fill their already-jam-packed closets with more accessories and clothing. Some even gave their bodies a once-over and hoped she was a plastic surgeon in search of a new location.
“I know this is expensive, so shatter my dreams now and tell me the amount.”
Her Realtor parked herself beside Reagan and smiled. “Have some hope. If you tell me you want this right now, I can have ten thousand dollars knocked right off.”
Reagan’s eyes blew up. “Ten thousand? Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Raquel? We’re in South Beach. Why in the world would I get such a great deal?”
The middle-aged woman chuckled. “I got connections, Reagan. Now, are you in?”
Reagan would be a fool if she didn’t take the offer, so she signed on the dotted line and raced back home to tell her sister that not only did she find the office of her dreams, but she got it for pennies. She told herself to call the second she stepped outside, but she held back. She wanted to be in the comfort of her home where she could act a fool and scream like she had no sense.
“You’ve reached Dane. Leave a message.”
Happiness falling from her voice, Reagan screamed into the phone, her body nearly shaking. “Dane! I found the office that I want. This is the one, Dane! This is the one! It’s beautiful and located smack dab in the middle of South Beach! And you won’t believe how much it’s selling for!”
Reagan was pitching the numbers to Dane when her doorbell forced her to jump off the couch. “Hold on, someone’s at my door,” she explained to the answering machine.
Without missing a beat, she opened the door, her smile still etched on her face. “Hi, I can I help you?” she cheerfully asked.
Boom!
Reagan’s body fell backward, and her cell phone slid out of her hand. It bounced off the floor until it finally settled in its resting place. Reagan’s face was blown off, the beauty of her smile permanently erased and thrown out into the universe, where positivity would sprinkle itself over others.
Tucking his hat low over his eyes, Lincoln jogged back to his car, his boots pounding against the pavement and setting off an echo into the neighborhood where no one’s presence was felt.
Three Hours Later
The room was pitch-black, and the sounds of Benz’s heavy breathing filled the room. Carmen sat straight up with her legs pushed against her chest and her arms tightly wrapped around them. Her normally neat and put-together hair was in shambles, and her head gently sat on her knees. Tears plummeted from her eyes onto the sheets. She felt lost, and her heart was vacant. Attending Lyfe’s funeral was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Her feet were planted to the ground and refused to move when the casket lowered and everyone exited the burial site. Not even the rain soaking her clothes and her hair sticking to her face made her seek shelter. Instead, she just stood there, watching the hole.
Carmen had no idea what took place the night Lyfe was murdered. The police had confirmed that this was no accident, and whoever set his home on fire intended to. Carmen’s head was spinning. Lyfe had so many enemies she didn’t know where to begin or whose name to place a check or X next to. All she knew was that it was a sloppy job. No one with experience would have allowed his murder to be so evident. She imagined they would have at least made it look like an accident just to keep it from turning into an investigation. However, the person didn’t want it that way. They wanted the world to know their sin and to send a message.
Deep in slumber, Benz turned onto his side. Carmen sank her eyes into his back. She fought to see in the dark. She came to Miami that same day, hours after Lyfe’s funeral, in search of peace. She didn’t expect Benz to be there. He constantly stressed that Fridays were dedicated to his wife and his wife only, so Carmen saw his absence as a chance to reconnect with herself. But that was short-lived and ended two hours later when he walked into their once-happy home and found his way between her legs in search of gold. Sex was the last thing she wanted, but if she wanted to relax, she had to give him what he wanted, which in the end would send him into a deep slumber.
Carmen never got the chance to tell Lyfe that she had formed her own troops and was on her way to reigning over New York. The thought alone forced additional salty teardrops to tumble down her cheeks. The reality that Lyfe actually gave his loyalty to Renee ate her alive. At the burial, Renee was stiffer and more disconnected than the corpse that rested below their feet. She had missed everything, except for the burial, and had shown absolutely no interest in paying her last respects. Her entire entourage was there, and Carmen despised each of them except for Julian. Their eyes met, and her heart jumped. She believed Julian’s eyes held such innocence, and she longed for the day when he’d be hers. However, her ignorance blinded her from looking closer into his soul, because if she had, she would have noticed the faint look of death drenching his existence.
For what seemed like the twentieth time, Benz’s cell phone vibrated and Carmen ignored it. She imagined it was his wife. She thought about answering it and letting the cat out of the bag. Buzz after buzz, it finally stopped and went straight to voicemail. Carmen hoped the phone’s continuous vibrating remained unheard by a sleeping Benz. She needed her moment of solitude to not be disturbed.
She continued to cry and release all of the wishes that would never come true along with the pain she never thought she’d feel. After a half hour of tears, Carmen cried herself to sleep.
* * *
After what felt like only minutes of sleep, Carmen was woken by the doorbell ringing frantically accompanied by brutal banging. She sat up and saw Benz walking around the bed and out of the room.
“The fuck? I’m trying to sleep!” he yelled when outside the room.
Carmen slid out of the bed and poked her head outside the bedroom door. She fought to hear the words being exchanged between Benz and another male. However, nothing made sense. Their conversation was too muffled. The front door slammed, and Carmen tiptoed back into bed. Benz reappeared shortly, the color drained from his face.
“My wife, she’s dead,” spilled out of his mouth.
Carmen had never seen him so devastated, and because of that, her pain temporarily escaped her soul and made her strong. She showed no type of remorse and instead allowed a smile to appear across her face. The woman who had taken everything away was officially out of the picture. Why would she hurt and try to mourn her life?
Benz took a deep breath. He knew who he was dealing with, and chastised himself for even sharing the news with her. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but my men, your crew, are dead too.”
As quickly as victory was declared hers, it was taken away. All Carmen wanted to do was turn back the hands of time and cry all over again.