Chasing Bliss (38 page)

Bliss was screaming her head off, and she kept attacking him with her hands, still trying to get
away.

Cyrus pulled her to her feet by her hair and threw her back on the sectional. She wouldn’t stop
screaming, so Cyrus punched her in the jaw hard enough to hurt his knuckles.

Bliss reverted to silence and stared at him with huge eyes.

“See what you made me do? All you had to do was answer one simple question. Jesus Christ!”
He looked down at Dee and saw that she had a pretty decent gash in her forehead. He left her
where she was and picked up her purse. Cyrus found her cigarettes, took one, and lit it with her
lighter. He reclaimed his seat and turned the Hennessey up again. Cyrus stared at Bliss and smoked
his cigarette, dusting the ashes on Chase’s blond hardwood floor. Just as he finished, he heard the
garage door going up. Cyrus sighed and stood up, grinding the cigarette butt into Chase’s beautiful
floor with his heel. He smiled at Bliss sadly. “Guess it’s time to holler at my boy.”

Chapter 24

T
hey were a half-block away when Chase raised the door to the garage. He was having a
hard time digesting the events of the day. Somebody had killed Corey, and the streets were
coming up cold, without anybody laying claim to Corey’s death. Baby didn’t even know. And to
make matters worse, now he had to deal with more of Cyrus’s bullshit.
That asshole probably popped
out of his hidey-hole and went damn crazy when he heard about Corey.
Chase also figured Cyrus blamed
him for the whole thing. That didn’t matter—he was used to it—but if Cyrus had put his hands on
Bliss, Chase was going to snap his neck, and that was a promise.

Chase turned to J.T. when he pulled into the garage. “Park the car and then go up in the elevator.
I’m gonna take the fire stairs that come up in the kitchen. I don’t know what’s up with him, but if
Cyrus is in there wildin’ out, we’ll be coming at him from two different sides.”

“Sounds good to me,” J.T. said and finished parking the Charger.

They got out, and Chase looked across the car roof at his boy. “This is turning into the worst
day of my life.”

J.T. nodded. “I know.”

Chase ran his thumb along the scar under his jaw. “He’s probably got his nine. If he comes at
you, just shoot him. You good with that, J.T.?”

J.T. nodded and took his own gun out. “No problem at all, Chase.”

Chase looked at the floor and grimaced. He looked back at J.T. with sadness born of resignation.
He already knew how it was gonna go down. “I’m going to kill my brother, ain’t I?”

J.T. nodded. “Yeah, Chase. I’d say that’s more than likely.”

Chase had known for most of his life it would come to this, but he’d always held on to the hope
that maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t have to happen that way. It was horrible, and he didn’t want
to do it, even if Cyrus
had
put his hands on Bliss.

J.T. looked at him long and hard. “I see
you
have a problem with it though.”

Chase sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “I’ve got a million problems with it, J.T.”

J.T. studied his face. “I know, but something tells me you won’t feel that way when this is
over.”

Chase frowned. “Why not?”

J.T. smiled a tight mirthless smile. “I got a feeling Cyrus has a bit of a death wish. He doesn’t
want to face whatever’s out there waitin’ on him, so he’s takin’ the cowardly way out and lettin’
you put him out of every-damn-body’s misery, his own included. He’s always blamed you for
everything that didn’t go his way, and he wants to blame you for this too. I also got a feelin’ he’s
gonna go the same way you greased all those fuckers for him. He’s gonna force your hand and
make
you do it.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Chase turned and started toward the door. “I hate
this,” he said it to himself, inadvertently loud enough for his friend to hear him.

“I know,” J.T. replied, always ride or die.

Chase heard the elevator slide open as he entered the door to the fire stairs. It was the last
place on Earth he wanted to be, but Bliss was in there, and he loved her. The sad thing was that he
somehow loved Cyrus too. He felt that nasty sting of tears again, but he fought them back. If J.T.
was right, he’d probably need them for later.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, listening for the elevator to grind to a halt and trying to get
his emotions to their lowest level. He knew from experience that he had less chance of totally
losing control if he started with a blank slate. He had to be on E if he didn’t want to veer into that
psychotic state of bloodlust that kept his razor so busy before the deed was actually done. Chase
put his hand on the doorknob and frowned worriedly. There was something very seriously wrong
with him, and he was painfully aware of that fact. If the night ended with him killing Cyrus, maybe
it would finally be over, because there would be no reason for Smoke to even exist without Cyrus
to push Chase to it. The elevator slid open, and Chase opened the fire door as quietly as he could
and stepped into the kitchen.

Cyrus had his gun pointed toward J.T., and J.T. was doing the same. “Where’s my punk-ass,
so-called brother, J.T.?”

Chase closed the door behind him and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m right here, Cyrus.” He
took in the situation very quickly: Bliss was cowering in a corner of the sofa with blood all over her
face, looking like she’d been in a street fight; Dee was unconscious on the floor- bleeding from a
head wound; and Cyrus was obviously stark raving mad and damn near three sheets to the wind.

Cyrus whirled around to face Chase, still pointing his gun. He was grinning, and it froze Chase’s
heart because the grin reminded him of himself. “Good! Come on over here, Chase. I got a lot of
shit to say to you.”

Chase looked first at the gun, then at Cyrus. He started walking toward him very slowly. “What
are you doing here, Cyrus? What made you come into my home and put your hands on my wife?
What made you do this to Dee? What’s wrong with you, Cyrus?”

Cyrus kept grinning, but his eyes turned serious. “Stop walkin’, Chase. Take your hands out of
your pockets.”

Chase kept walking, but he took his hands out of his pockets. “Fuck you, Cyrus. I’m checkin’
on my wife.”

J.T. kept his gun pointed toward Cyrus, while Chase crossed the room to Bliss. She leapt off the
sofa and ran to him. He closed his arms around her and kissed her swollen lips.

“Are you all right?”

She was hysterical, crying and babbling almost incoherently, clutching at him, then holding him
tight.

Chase kissed her forehead and rubbed her back. “Stop, honey. Calm down. I’m here. Nobody’s
gonna hurt you anymore.” He touched her belly lightly. “Is the baby okay?”

She nodded and wiped her tears away. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Baby? What fuckin’ baby? She’s pregnant? Oh
Jesus Christ.
Fuck y’all with this happily-ever-
after bullshit!” Cyrus bellowed.

“Shut up, Cyrus, before I shoot you,” J.T. said in a low voice.

Dee stirred and sat up slowly, holding her head. She groaned softly, and Chase went to her.
“Dee, you all right?”

There was a scary moment when she looked at him like she didn’t know him, but then her eyes
cleared and she seemed to gather her wits. She looked at Cyrus and got a burst of adrenaline, but
she tried to get up too fast and went back down.

Cyrus sucked his teeth. “Get up. I didn’t hurt you that bad.”

Chase shot him a look and helped her to the couch.

“Back up, Cyrus. Step away,” J.T. said in that same low voice, cluing Chase in to the fact that
Cyrus was coming toward him and giving him time to straighten up and take his razor out of his
pocket.

Bliss made a small, frightened sound and covered her eyes.

“Relax. I just want a drink,” Cyrus said. He picked up the Hennessey and turned it up.

Chase looked at him in genuine puzzlement. “Cyrus, what’s the matter with you? Why are you
drinkin’ like that? Is it because of Corey?”

Cyrus shrugged a little. “What about Corey?”

Chase blinked real hard. It seemed like Cyrus didn’t know, and he’d have to be the one to tell
him. Before he could open his mouth to break the news, though, Dee opened hers.

“He knows, Chase.”

Chase looked at Dee and then swung his head back to Cyrus. “Yeah?”

Bliss ran up on him with that hysterical clutching, pointing an accusing finger at Cyrus. “That
bastard did it! He told me he did it! He killed Corey!”

“He told me too,” Dee said quietly.

Chase was still looking at Cyrus. Cyrus took one last drink and recapped the bottle. He smiled at
Chase—a horrendously sinister grin. A funny thing happened in that moment. Chase realized that
Cyrus was just as crazy as he was, because he was grinning back at Cyrus with the same diabolical
grin himself. Chase pushed Bliss away from him as gently as he could and opened his razor.

Some of the light fell out of Cyrus’s eyes, but he held his grin. “I guess it all comes down to
this, huh, Smoke?”

Chase felt his blood boiling in his veins. He felt like his eyes were open too wide. His heart was
racing. He laughed, even though he didn’t mean to. He meant to scream, because what he’d just
heard was too far to the left of reality to be true. He didn’t think his voice would tremble when he
spoke, but it did. “You killed my little brother, Cyrus?”

Cyrus nodded vigorously and licked his lips like what he was about to say tasted really good.
“Well, yeah, Chase. I sure did. I blew his brains out and watched them drip down the window of
the car I bought him with my own money.”

Chase twirled the razor in his hand, and it played its familiar song:
whick-whick-whick.
“What did
you kill Corey for, Cyrus?” Chase’s voice was a dry, harsh whisper, like the heat from his rage had
absorbed all the moisture from his throat.

“Corey waited until his last hour on Earth to grow a backbone. I liked him a lot better without
one. He was raisin’ up a lot like you, so I popped him.” Chase took two steps toward him, but
Cyrus just casually sat at the breakfast bar. “I also did it because I knew you’d kill me for it,” he
admitted, suddenly looking very tired.

Chase stopped in his tracks “What?”

J.T. had said Cyrus would force his hand. He
couldn’t
let him live. He’d taken Corey from him
and put his hands on Bliss. Yet he was hesitating and he knew it. In his heart, he didn’t want to kill
Cyrus. He was his fucking brother.

“You heard me. My life’s a wrap. It’s prison or the cemetery for me, thanks to you. I ain’t going
back to jail and if I gotta die…I think this is the way it was meant for me to go. Do me two favors
before you cut my throat, though, Smoke.”

Chase narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Send everybody outta here. I don’t want to die in front of an audience.”

Chase laughed and shook his head. “What else?”

Cyrus looked him in the eye. “Let me tell you a story.”

They stared at each other, and Chase wondered what he was talking about.
A story? What the hell
kind of story could Cyrus possibly tell me? Fuck a story!

Chase spoke to J.T. without taking his eyes off Cyrus. “J.T., take Bliss and Dee down to the
garage. I’ll call you when I’m done up here—either that or come back when you hear the screamin’
stop.”