Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Jean-Pierre’s voice cut through the vehicle’s silence. “Do you think I am crazy for trying to fix Timur?”
I looked at him. “Definitely.”
A sad smile split the seriousness on his face. “You are not much of a sugar coater.”
“Why would I be? Sugar is bad for you.”
Jean-Pierre turned to his window. “But sometimes it is good to forget and just enjoy the sweetness of it.”
Boris chimed in. “The priest said that you must have faith during fear.”
“He wasn’t a priest, Boris. He was a pastor and he damn sure didn’t mean Timur.” I shook my head. “Had he been introduced to Timur, he would be drowning him in holy water.”
Jean-Pierre muttered, “Yet, we still should have faith.”
“Do you know what I was just thinking about, Butcher?”
“What?”
“White men hanging Black men from trees.”
Jean-Pierre turned his view to me. “That’s a horrific thing to think about on such a nice day.”
“But, I bet we passed trees today that Black men and women were hung from long ago.”
“We may have.”
I looked at Boris. “Did Russians have African slaves?”
Boris shook his head. “Russia never truly had slaves. They were called serfs.”
“Was a serf’s life better?”
“Serfs could own property and were subjects under law.” Boris shrugged. “However, I wouldn’t have wanted to be a serf or a slave. But, my understanding of slavery. . .”
I nodded. “It was really fucked up.”
“Yes.” Boris continued, “Yet, in the Russian Empire, Black people were neither enslaved nor suffered discrimination. In fact, they were seen as. . .exotic. . .something to collect. Many were an object of wonder. Still a bit disconcerting.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “Sounds crazy, but it’s better than being chained, beaten, raped, and sold.”
Boris widened his eyes. “Yes. I imagine so.”
“That’s why there is something more wrong with African-Americans than other Black people in the world. Our whole bloodline is covered in trauma.” I frowned. “But, that’s just my personal opinion.”
I turned back to Jean-Pierre. The Butcher had been watching me the whole time. Curiosity filled his eyes.
“What about the French?” I raised my eyebrows. “They had slaves. Right? We wouldn’t have a New Orleans if not for the French and their love of slavery.”
Jean-Pierre’s face wore a sad expression. “The French trafficked thousands upon thousands of African people as slaves to the French West Indies and their French colonies like New Orleans.”
“Slavery is gone, but white men are still trying to own Black women.”
Jean-Pierre pursed his lips.
“The Lion grabs the Mouse. The Butcher snatches up Eden. I love Misha, but he grabbed the ballerina up faster than she could spin. Even Roland put dibs on Mrs. Jones before I could even get a word in.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m starting to get tired of you all cock blocking me from amazing sisters.”
Jean-Pierre leaned his head to the side. “Is that what we’ve been doing?”
“What’s up with Rafael and Gwen?”
“Are we still on this, Maxwell?” Jean-Pierre shook his head. “My apologies, but you do not want to get on Rafael’s radar.”
“So, another white man’s cock blocking?”
“If we must use that analogy, then. . .yes.”
“And even though you know all about what has happened to my people, you’re still going to let Rafael cock block me from getting her number? I bet you have it.”
“I do, but—”
“Then, give it to me.”
“Rafael would murder me.”
“Even though. . .” I stared at him. “Slavery. . .”
Boris snorted.
“Maxwell, I do not know if you are being serious or—”
“I’m being serious.”
Jean-Pierre sighed. “Okay.”
“I want you white boys to stop cock blocking a brother.”
Jean-Pierre screwed his face up in disgust. “Ugh.”
“What?”
“That’s such a vulgar term.”
I leaned my head to the side. “Cock blocking?”
“Yes.” Jean-Pierre looked like he just ate something rotten. “Each time you say it, I picture your penis out and someone is jumping in front of it with their penis out and ramming it into the woman.”
“Good. Because that’s basically what it is.”
“My cousin is not blocking your penis from going into Gwen.” Jean-Pierre frowned. “He met her long before you. I believe that is fair even though you and Gwen are. . .siblings. . .I guess. . . according to America or something.”
“We’re not actual siblings. It’s just a cultural thing. Brother or sister. That’s what we call each other. But we can fuck each other.” I waved my hand. “Forget that part. How did Rafael meet Gwen?”
“She was his chef in a restaurant in Paris. When we were running from the Lion as he destroyed my beautiful city we needed Gwen and her sister to help us—”
“So, Gwen has a sister?” Excitement hit me. “Alright then. Does the sister have a nice ass like Gwen and a curly afro?”
Jean-Pierre’s frown deepened. “I believe Louis has interest in her, but—”
“Oh, hell no. More French cock-blocking?”
“Ugh. Could we find another term?” Jean-Pierre held out his hands. “I prefer the word obstacle.”