Forget Me Not

Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

ARIS

Never, in a million years, did I think I’d become a stalker.

Here I sit, staring at the building that holds two of the most important people to me. As the sun breaches the crest of the horizon, I scrub my face, trying to keep myself awake and alert. I don’t trust the McKinnys or their affiliations as far as I can throw them. We called their bluff yesterday, and I don’t see them sitting back at their residence, packing bags as we suggested so they could get the hell out of the United States and find asylum in another country—somewhere far away from their children and those they’ve crawled into bed with.

Not that I give a damn about Marcus and Lucinda’s safety. I vehemently don’t—their actions have ruined too many lives and has caused far too much chaos as far as I’m concerned. What I do care about is them never worming their way back into Berlynn and Berkley’s lives. My friends are finally moving on, finding their own path and conquering it. What they don’t deserve is being used as pawns to lure the McKinnys from those they have backstabbed and betrayed.

From what the Feds have told us, they get a percentage for each woman they find and bring into the fold of this prostitution ring. But they’ve borrowed against potentials that they haven’t yet found and captured, which means, they owe either money or women to these lenders, and that’s not a good thing. Especially, if they’ve promised funds from Double B’s inheritance. A chuckle escapes me when I think of their old moniker. We called them Double B and they called us A Squared.

Fuck, I miss those days.

A magnetic pull has me peering up through my windshield and watching the window on the third floor. Blinds being drawn has me squinting as the sun shines on it. I can see her figure lean against the pane, and tense when I see her shoulders stiffen before her hand raises to swipe at her cheeks. The understanding that she’s crying and there’s nothing I can do about it has me clutching the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. I used to be her rock, and with everything that transpired, I can’t offer her my shoulder to lean on any more.

Gritting my teeth, I punch the steering wheel causing the horn to sound off. Thankfully, the honking blends into the traffic of the neighborhood and doesn’t draw attention to the fact that I’m idling on the street, watching her. Right now, I’m putting my life on the line to make sure she and Berkley stay safe. I made a vow last night that no matter what, if someone came after them, they’d have to get through me first.

Thank fuck Texas is a right to carry state and I always keep my nine nestled in my console. I’ve never aimed it at an individual, never want to either and would prefer not to be forced into that position, but if my family is in danger, I have no qualms about doing it whatsoever. When Berlynn steps back and disappears into the shadows, I lean my head back onto my headrest and close my eyes. Exhaustion tries to drag me under, but I fight it with every breath I take. If I fall under the sandman’s dust, there’s no one else around who cares enough to watch every person who enters and leaves their apartment complex.

As of now, everybody is a suspect. Every man, woman, and child needs to be thoroughly examined. Even the little girls on the street at the mini mart across the way selling boxed cookies have my acute attention. I don’t put it past those assholes to use innocent children to endanger Berlynn and Berkley, draw them out of their home with the promises of a sweet treat with the money going toward a good cause. And they’d fall for it. Hook, line, and sinker. More often than not, kids are used for others’ misdeeds. Even across seas, kids as young as four years old are used as suicide bombers, enticing and drawing our soldiers to them in attempts to rescue the inculpable, tiny civilians from being injured.

Nobody is a safe bet.

My phone begins to ring, and when I look at the screen I groan. Addison always has a way of knowing when I’m up to no good. It’s that twin connection she swears we have.

“Addy,” I say her name as a way of greeting her.

With no hey, how are you doing, she goes in for the kill. “Why do I feel a tightness in my chest, Aris? What are you doing that you’re not supposed to be doing?”

“Well, hello to you too, sis,” I tease, not wanting to answer that particular question. If she were to discover what I’m doing, where I’m at, she’d be driving her way here and plopping her ass into my passenger seat.

“Aris.” She hisses before clucking her tongue, a trait she learned from our mother. When Tallulah Davenport is displeased about something we’ve done, as a whole or separately, the tsking like a chicken commences. “Don’t make me come and find you.”

“I’m okay,” I quickly reassure her. “This falls under confidential information. You know there are some things I can’t disclose.” I hate keeping this from her, the siblings mean as much to her as they do me. What I’m doing may not constitute as being privileged per se, but Berlynn’s gym contracted Davenport Law—thank the maker it was renamed from R&M Attorneys at Law after the fallout with Marcus. Thank fuck for that too because I’m not sure I could sit in a building with that man’s name printed outside of it.

“You’re holding something back from me,” she accuses. “I know you are, Aris. I feel it in the depths of my soul. Don’t forget, I know you better than you know yourself and you can’t keep hiding shit from me.” In my mind's eye, I picture her stomping her foot and glaring at me in aggravation.

“I only hide shit from you that has to do with business, Addison,” I tell her, hoping one day she’ll absolve me of this duplicit deceit. She will see this as the ultimate betrayal since she and Berlynn have been thick as thieves since they were toddling around in nothing more than terrycloth diapers.

It feels like I’m facing a double-edged sword—I’m damned if I do because then I’ll be violating my pledged oath, and damned if I don’t because then I face my sister for the rest of my days. The whole thing makes me feel like complete shit.

“This is more than simply business, Aris. It’s Berlynn, isn’t it?” She’s too damn intuitive for her own good. Stupid fucking twin connection!

“Addison—” I begin, lost for words. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“I’m done staying away, Aris. If something is going on with her, I want to know what it is. And if you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll find out for myself,” she angrily announces before disconnecting the call.

“Motherfucker!” I can’t let her get herself involved in this. It’s too fucking dangerous and I couldn’t live with myself if anything were to happen to her. She’s the other piece of me, without her, I don’t exist. We’re two distinct, individual, yet essential parts that come together and meld in order to complete a disassembled component.

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in my car stewing, unsure how to fix this before Addison comes stomping in and making herself a target. Once again, I find my phone ringing and look up onto the dash to the screen so I can see who it is. I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Berlynn who’s calling.

“Berlynn. Everything alright?” I ask as soon as I hit the green button that connects the call.

“I’m just curious about something,” she begins.

“What would that be?” I probe with a smirk stretched along my face. She always does this, same as Addy. Right to the point, no holds barred.

She blows my mind when she asks, “Berkley and I were wondering how long you were going to sit outside looking all sad and pathetic.”

My hackles raise at the fact that she’s made me. Damn, I’d never make it as a sleuth. “What makes you think I’m sitting outside?”

“I’m a lot of things, Aris, but blind isn’t one of them,” she harrumphs. “Look up.” Glancing upward, I see the living room blinds buckled in the middle.

“Berlynn. Are you watching me watch you?” I tease. I’m not surprised that she still has my number. After all, I still have hers even after all of these years we’ve been apart. I could never find it in me to erase it from my phone book.

“Just trying to figure out why you’re avoiding us,” she states. “Do we scare you, Aris?” I hear Berkley in the background laughing hysterically causing a grin to span along my face. “Do we have you shaking in your boots?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Berlynn.”

“I warned you once upon a time that someone would come along that would be bigger and badder than you are. If you aren’t afraid of us, come on up. We have breakfast waiting,” she taunts me. “That is, if you can locate your balls.”

Lowering my hands, I cup my nuts and antagonize her. “Balls found. Do you need to see them for proof that they’re there?”

“Aris.” She sighs. “I see there are some things that haven’t changed. You’re still a damn goofball. What makes you think I’d ever want to see those infested things?”

“Infested,” I ask aghast. “There’s no infestation going on downstairs, thank you very much. I’m offended you’d think otherwise.”

“You forget how well I know you and how you let women lead you around by the dick,” she counters. “You were always so easy, such a damn bimbo.”

“A bimbo! What the fuck, Berlynn?”

“Get up here, Aris. Berkley is bouncing around the walls waiting for you to grow the hell up and come talk to him.” With that, she hangs up on me.

Nervous energy pumps through my veins as I step off the elevator. When I look up from my feet, I’m met with the excited eyes of Berkley.

“Aris!” he hollers before running down the hallway and leaping into my arms. This is the Berkley I remember in third grade. He was always exuberant as a young boy, he’d crash into me and we’d both crumble into the ground, wrestling in the dirt until one of us ended up being declared as the top dog.

“You win!” I submit, wanting him to be the victor this round.

“Yes!” he screams, jumping off of me and pumping his arms up into the air, fisting his hands tightly. “I am the man!”

“You are the man,” I say, agreeing with him. Damn, I’ve missed him and his showboating ways—no matter what shape of his former self or age group that comes in.

I love the asshole, it’s as simple as that. He’s the only brother I’ve ever had or ever wanted.

“Why’d you stay away so long, Aris? Do you not like me anymore? My dad and mom don’t like me either,” he says, his head held down in shame.

“I didn’t have a choice, buddy,” I tell him, reaching up and ruffling his hair. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going away, ever again.”

“Promise?” he probes.

Invoking a vow from me, I assure, “I swear, Berkley.”

“Good,” he says, bobbing his head. “Now come on, Berlynn made cinnamon rolls.”

“Yum.” I place the palm of my palm onto my stomach and dramatically rub it. Berkley and I have always loved any type of iced pastries.