Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“But that didn’t seem to matter, either. I was considered muddled in the head ’cause I look White, but sound and act Black, whatever the hell that really means, accordin’ to many folks. Like I was having some sort of identity crisis. I came out the womb like this. This is who I am!” Legend sighed. “I had a bad relationship with my mama, and still do. We don’t even talk and that’s how I want it, as fucked up as it sounds. I had a strong distrust of women and only wanted what was between their legs, and for them to leave me alone. I punished myself by sayin’ I wasn’t going to have any children, out of fear, even though deep down I wanted a family. I knew what was wrong with me, but I refused to address it. It was too hard. I didn’t want to talk about the core reasons as to why I was the way I was.
“That’s what you call willfully unaware. It’s called stupidity, based out of fear. You, on the other hand, look harmless. You got those nice blue eyes the ladies love… a boyish smile. That dark hair and preppy style. You’re tall, with a deep ass Southern voice carrying just the right amount of twang. You can be articulate when you want to. Your tattoos can be covered with a blazer and a pair of pants. You figured if you left us behind, all of your secrets would be buried. You could start over. Be free.”
“Legend, as usual, your timing sucks. Why would you want to do this when I just got in town and my aunt is dead?” he asked calmly.
“Now is this best time because you’re plannin’ to get in and get out. I can’t let you do that without telling you that I’m onto you.”
Caspian laughed.
“Oh? I’m funny, mothafucka? I’m a joke to you?”
“Yeah… you are funny, Legend. I heard about that little fight you and Axel had, by the way. Are you going to try ’nd box me, too? Hit me on the nose and break it with those big, tattooed fists of yours?” A darkness came over him, rich and delicious. “Have you been to Puerto Rico lately? I heard it’s beautiful this time of year…”
The two men glared at one another and the love that once flowed between them turned to something sinister and oppressive.
“I know you want to ask me how I know these things.” Caspian picked up his glass and gulped down the contents, his teeth crunching on the ice. “No worries. You did a good job covering your tracks. I didn’t know for certain, but I observe, Legend. I watch. I called you. You told me you were going to Alabama for a class. I thought… okay. You and I had been talking a lot around that time, but then you sort of disappeared. I was reading—you know us journalists do that a lot. Research, of course. And lo and behold, around the time I couldn’t reach you, the very man who violated you ended up dead in a most ferocious way out in the middle of nowhere with his tongue cut out, fingertips chopped off, eyes removed, penis hanging half off after being hit by some sort of rubber bullet, and a broom shoved in his ass. In fact, Puerto Rican authorities said it was one of the most gruesome murders they’d ever seen. I said to myself, ‘Well, that has to be some Brother Disciples work right there. It was a thing of beauty. You did an excellent job…” He smirked. “Well done.”
Legend’s scowl suddenly relaxed, and he grinned, showing his bright white teeth again. “Very good, schoolboy!” He clapped. “Now you know why it’s called the secret sauce. Hey, did you happen to see this?” Legend pointed across the way at the wall. Caspian’s heart dropped. “Yeah, Mr. Observer. Somehow, you missed the framed photograph of Mrs. Florence that I keep on the wall. Why don’t you research that shit? Do a little dream analysis while you’re at it, too. All that creepy, freaky shit you say and do that makes people’s skin crawl ain’t got no effect on me, Dexter. You ran away to pretend you weren’t Kentucky born and bred. To forget about what happened to your mama. Not Aunt Angel, but the one that birthed you. She killed herself, and you ain’t been right since.
“My life speaks for itself. I’m fine.”
“I don’t give uh fuck what awards, prizes, and keys to the city you may have received from the mayor. I know an unhinged bastard when I see one—’cause you’re me, and I am you.”
“We are two different people, Legend.”
“Only difference is I got flavor, and you like raisins in yo’ potato salad, you son of a bitch. You had dirt caked under your nails. Sweaty and funky. Baskin’ in the summer sun. Shirtless and running around, covered in bug bites and Band-Aids. Swimmin’ in that fuckin’ lake… fuckin’ girls from rival high schools… runnin’ trains on college girls with the rest of us. We didn’t have snowball fights. We yanked icicles from the house gutters and tried stabbin’ mothafuckas who looked at us wrong. We were the bad seeds. Something wicked planted us, and damn if we didn’t grow. People were scared shitless of us in school. Axel had the gift of gab. He’d make people feel safe, then BOOM. Headlock. Blacked the fuck out.