Chapter Twenty:

Sicko Mode

It was sunrise when Jasper awoke. He was between waking and dreaming, imagining a lustful rendezvous between him and Fauna. He pleasured himself, quickly trying to scratch the itch that been itching for so long. He pictured her in all types of positions and could feel her nails graze against his back. But it was not like the real thing at all. I still hate that triflin' bitch, he thought as he finished, sighing resignedly. He grabbed some tissue and cleaned himself off as walked to the bathroom. He washed his hands clean and then his face before stepping into the shower. He did his usual routine and topped it off by spraying himself down with a new vanilla-lavender scent. He reached for the yellow hair dye in the cabinet and did a few touch ups, waiting for half an hour before washing out the coloring. He stepped out, refreshed, clean and feeling hopeful. However, a vague feeling of arousal hung around him like a haze. It's been months, Jasper thought. He'd done a good job in refraining from such indulgences. But it was difficult. He was reminded every day what he'd been missing out on. But he knew if he started up again, he wouldn't stop. I can't do that again, he thought, lighting a cigarette. Just feel, deal and be real. I don't need all that. Just…be…chill. He kept picturing so many he wanted to fuck in all sorts of positions and various states of undress. Porn and his imagination was not enough these days. Just feel, deal and be real, he thought. But admittedly, he missed the touches of women. One day I'ma just say fuck it and have an orgy, he told himself, taking a drag. He got dressed, electing to wear one of his fitted pineapple print button downs and brightly colored sports jacket with matching slacks. He grabbed his shades and his watch, stepping out his room and walking towards the kitchen. Diddy was already awake, in her house shorts, flip flops and a sports bra, making pancakes.

"Mornin'," she greeted.

"Hey," Jasper said, turning off the coffee machine. Diddy opened the cabinet, reaching for the chocolate chips.

"Ay man…can you eat chocolate?"

Diddy gave him a look, "I'm not a canine descended mon. Dedennes were rodents," Diddy said, "I can eat chocolate."

"Oh yeah," Jasper said, yawning. When his coffee was finished, he poured in some cream and added sugar. "By the way…I'm goin' to the opera this weekend."

"…Nigga what?"

"Goin' to the opera—bih you heard me," he said, sipping the coffee. Diddy added the chocolate chips into the pancake mix and stirred it around.

"Why? Operas are fuckin' borin, bruh."

"It's what fancy rich niggas do," Jasper said, "I'm rich, but I ain't fancy. Time to add the fancy part."

"Well…yo bad taste is prolly why you ain't fancy," Diddy pointed out.

"…Ain't nobody ask you Diddy," he scowled.

"I'm just sayin'," she said, "Or…is that too much for yo ego?"

He gave her a sideways look and took a long sip of his coffee. After he was done, he set the mug down.

"Y'all are comin' iight? I bought five tickets."

"…Really nigga! The opera?! Fuck bruh ion wanna go that lame shit."

"How bad can it be?"

"Operas are fuckin' borin! Ion know why anybody likes 'em," Diddy said. She poured the mix into the frying pan, making a silver dollar chocolate chip pancake. Jasper shrugged.

"It's a flex."

"So you tryna flex," Diddy ridiculed.

"Yes nigga! What wrong's with flexin'?"

"Flex culture is bad," Diddy said, making another pancake.

"No it ain't! It's good nigga! It lets other niggas know you've made it."

"Okay nigga, fine—but why?"

"…" Jasper considered that for a moment, "So…hmm…"

"So they can hate and yo ego gets stroked," she said simply, "Flex culture is bad."

"Nigga please…" Jasper said, taking a drag of his cigarette, "Just come. I ain't goin' no opera alone."

"Bring Festival bruh—she's a nerd, she'll like that shit."

"Diddy c'mon…she ain't smart enough to be a nerd."

"You know what I mean nigga," Diddy snapped, making a few more pancakes, "I hate operas! I seent them shits on TV. Looks lame as FUCK…fine. If it'll make yo ass feel important, I'ma go."

"Thank you," he said, taking another drag. He walked from the kitchen and past the living room and stepped outside to check the mail. He when he did, he saw one of Cherry's neighbors already outside on his property, looking at him. Jasper looked back, still smoking.

"Hey uh…good morning…" the neighbor called out, "I've been seeing you around for a while…I've been meaning to ask…did…Cherry move or something?

No. "…Yeah man, she moved," Jasper said, his voice growing cold. The neighbor nodded, grabbing his mail and went back into his house. Jasper watched him until he was out of sight and retrieved Cherry's mail. He rifled through them and sighed, throwing them in the trash. He closed his eyes for a moment. The house was still drenched with her scent and he could see that red mist lingering on the furniture, the walls and the throw rug. Damn man. Why? Fuck you Leon. I'm sorry Cherry.

"I'm done with them pancakes," Diddy called out. Mardi was the first one in the kitchen, looking excited. Pam was next, but forwent the pancakes, instead opting for some juice and a quick, furtive sniff of horse from Cherry's old vial. Festival had not left her room yet and Jasper went to check on her, putting out his cigarette as he did. He opened the door and saw her sitting on her bed, looking at her phone.

"Ay bruh, don't you want pancakes?" He asked, "I mean, Diddy's pancakes prolly shit cuz she can't do cook…or do anythin' really…but still."

"Um…sure," Festival said.

"You good?" Jasper asked, walking over to her.

She shrugged, "I'm lookin' at mom's Poke/Gram page and uh…she…said she's…pregnant."

"…WHAT," Jasper barked. He went on his phone and clicked the Poke/Gram app and went straight to Fauna's profile. He saw her with her new boyfriend of just a couple of months. He growled and then bared his fangs when he saw Fauna had posted a positive pregnancy test with the caption "a number two is coming!"

"Really!? With this ugly ass nigga!?" Jasper cried out, "He got a tube for a nose!"

"That's featurist," Festival said, "All mons from his line have those tube noses."

"Shut the hell up Festival," Jasper hissed, "This nigga ugly with or without that fucked up lookin' nose! I hate this bitch! She postin' this shit and still gouging me for half of what I got? The fuck is wrong with her."

"I'm…gonna have another brother…or sister," Festival mumbled, "Yay…."

"Well…this time it ain't mine, so who gives a fuck," Jasper said, turning off his phone.

"…Do you think mommy will…forget about me?"

"What? No," Jasper said, "I mean she gon' be preoccupied with this butt fuck ugly ass baby she gon' have for a lil' while, but she ain't gon' forget 'bout you."

"Well…she hasn't called," Festival whispered.

"That's cuz…" Jasper began and the sighed, changing the subject, "Ay… you like operas?"

"…Not…really."

"…Well you goin' to one. This weekend. So get some nice clothes and none of them frilly girly shit you like to wear. Somethin' classy, bih."

"Okay daddy," she said, lying back in her bed, "I'll…eat later."

"Um…iight," Jasper said, leaving her room. He checked his phone, seeing a missed call from Dempsey. He called back, feeling unnerved.

"Hello?" The lawyer answered.

"Yo…wassup? You called?"

"Yeah," Dempsey said, getting up from his desk and looking out the window, "So…this…case is kinda hard, ya know? The Wally guy—the minimum for him is going to be ten years. Conway though, twelve—minimum. And that's being generous and hoping that will go through."

Fuck…Vinchenzi gon' gut my club, he thought, feeling demoralized. He exhaled deeply so Dempsey could hear.

"Ay man…you gotta do somethin'."

"Maybe you should try to cut dealings with this Vinchenzi Star," Dempsey said, "Besides, there're rumors…"

"What rumors?" Jasper asked.

"Well…you didn't hear it from me, but there're rumors about some new peeps trying to push up into New Palm City. They're from East Kalos…human mostly, but there's a few mons in the mix. They traffic drugs all through the Kalos and Hoenn area."

"And…what this got do with me?"

"They also do racketeering…" Dempsey said, "And if they're here, Vinchenzi won't be focusing on you that much—oh, I have to go, my aid is here."

"Dempsey wait—ugh," Jasper growled when the lawyer hung up. He pocketed his phone and clenched his fists in frustration. He went to the kitchen, seeing Mardi eating most of the pancakes while Diddy poured maple syrup on just two. Pam was on Mardi's phone, looking at a video. I should get Pam her own phone now, Jasper considered, taking note of that.

The beach was crowded today, but it wasn't that different from any other day. Festival, as usual, stayed far away from the water and opted to stick closer to the boardwalk. Jasper found it vaguely amusing that fire-types were almost never seen at the beach and if they were, they were always by or on the boardwalk. Humans played in the coastline shallows while water type mons swam wfurther out to sea, having fun. You already know, Jasper thought. He didn't care too much for water either. He didn't like messing up his hair or losing his rings from swimming. Besides, anytime he'd go in a pool or any body of water where multiple people shared, once they saw him, they immediately got up and left. Bunch of fuckin' typist headass niggas, he thought. Diddy loved the beach, especially the sand. She was her bikini, strutting her stuff as found a spot where they could set up the beach towels and umbrella. Pam wore a sarong and a tube top, not feeling comfortable showing off as much as skin as others. She wore a rhinestone studded mask and her diamond drop earrings, looking fabulous. Mardi wore a two piece bathing suit, enjoying a sandwich from one of the boardwalk storefronts. Jasper donned his palm leaf print trunks and his shades. He laid down on the beach towel and relaxed, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag.

"Ay," he said, folding his arms behind his head, "If y'all gon go off and do shit, don't do no stupid shit, iight?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mardi said, shoving the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. She chewed loudly and swallowed, feeling satisfied (as brief as that might be).

"And—"

Mardi and Pam already left. Jasper sat up and sucked his teeth before lying back down again. Diddy was with him, lying on the second beach towel. She plucked the cigarette from behind her ear and held it out for Jasper to light it. He obliged and she took a quick drag.

"This is nice," Diddy said, her tail swishing from side to side, "I like this." She patted her weave and then tied it up.

"Yep," Jasper said, enjoying the warm beach air and the shade. They sat in a comfortable silence, with Diddy scrolling through her phone briefly. When she was done, she set it in the tote bag and playfully twiddled her tail over Jasper's nose. He didn't react, simply smoked. After a while, however, he spoke.

"Lemme ask you somethin'," he said.

"Iight," Diddy said, interested, "Wassup?"

"Yo ex got a new boyfriend yeah and she gets pregnant really fuckin' fast…like she only been datin' this nigga for a few months and boom, already pregnant. You think she doin' that to be a triflin' ass hoe or she actually just that stupid?"

Diddy raised an eyebrow, "…Um…both maybe? Neither? Why? Which ex of yours triflin' now?"

"Fauna. Festival's moms," he said, "Got a new ugly ass bf and she already carryin' this nigga prolly busted baby."

"Sounds like you hatin'," Diddy teased.

"I ain't hatin'. I'm sayin' the truth. He ugly. She can do better."

"Better like you? Didn't you cheat and shit?"

"Yeah I had some hoes," Jasper said, taking a drag, "But she cheated too."

"After you cheated…like a bunch of moffuckin' times too," Diddy reminded him, "At least, that's what you told my ass."

"I should prolly shoot him," Jasper mused out loud, "Ya know."

"What he is? Human? Mon?"

"Mon. He from the Turtonator line…" Jasper said.

"Oh wow," Diddy said, "Ain't they got like…a hole where they noses supposed to be?"

"It's like a lil mini tube," Jasper said, "They be spittin' fire from it or somethin'. Wha'ever."

"Sounds like you hatin'," Diddy said.

"Shut yo ass up," Jasper snapped, "Damn… ain't nobody ask you."

"You just asked me!" Diddy squeaked, laughing at him.

"Girls just be givin' trash ass advice in general," Jasper said, taking a drag and blowing out some smoke.

"Uh mister."

Jasper sat up and Diddy turned around and her eyes went wide at the sight of a tall, tanned young man with washboard abs standing over them.

"Hi!" Diddy perked up.

"You can't be smoking here," the man said. He was a mon, specifically of the Clawitzer lineage. The whites of his eyes were black instead and his irises were a luminous gold. His left hand was webbed and tipped with little sharp nails, but his right hand was a giant, blue claw with yellow trimmings around the edges.

"Okay!" Diddy said, putting out her cigarette immediately. Jasper wasn't impressed.

"Says who nigga?"

"I'm the beach manager," he said, "This is a no smoking area. There're children here."

"…Since when the fuck do beaches have managers?" Jasper retorted. Diddy was infatuated with the handsome man, trying to get his attention.

"Since always? Where the hell you've been, old man?"

"Nigga I'm FIFTY-ONE, what the fuck's wrong with y'all! That is middle aged, not old. Just cuz you twenty one—"

"I'm thirty two," he said, "But thanks, I'm flattered. Now, can you stop smoking?"

"And what you gon' do if I don't?"

Diddy looked at him, cringing, "C'mon bruh…"

"Well…kick you from the beach for one," the beach manager said, "You can't stay here and smoke. It says it right there on that sign: no smoking. C'mon."

"Pfft, I'd like to see you try and kick me nigga," Jasper said, going back to lying down.

Diddy looked unsure, "Uh—"

"You have to leave or stop smoking. You can't do both."

Jasper lowered his shades, "Nigga stop blockin' the damn sun with yo big ass—"

The beach manager snatched the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it in his hand, putting it out.

"Was that so hard? Listen, people are complaining about you. You're making the area stink with smoke."

Diddy cringed again and Jasper got up and swung on him, catching him in the jaw. His punch didn't do much, but was enough for the beach manager to recoil and hold his cheek.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" The manager yelled.

"The hell wrong with you, nigga! Don't be snatchin' a man's cigarette like that. Fuck you think this is?"

"Jasper…" Diddy whined, tugging at his arm.

"Listen to your…daughter? Younger girlfriend? I don't know. Just listen to her and get outta here. You're causing a scene."

Jasper shoved him, "Nah nigga. You came up to me." He looked at the other beach goers looking at him, whispering and pointing.

"Ay Jasper… you makin' us look bad," Diddy whispered anxiously. Jasper sighed and relented.

"Fine, fine, my bad," Jasper said, "I'ma move."

"Smoking's bad for your health anyways grandpa!" Some human teenager called out from the sidelines, observing the whole quarrel.

"You know what's bad for yo health?" Jasper snarled, his eyes going gold. The beach manager stepped in front of him.

"Enough, sir, let's go."

Diddy grunted, exasperated. She snatched up the tote bag and grabbed Jasper's hand, "Let's go." She ran, pulling him along, leaving the umbrella and towels behind. Diddy was very fast and when she ran at her top speed, she was a blur and she left a trail of dust in her wake. They were far away from the scene in mere seconds. When shes ran, everything seemed to slow down and people's faces were indistinct distortions that she couldn't make out. She whooshed by, kicking up sand and people's beach towels. But Jasper was leagues faster. He picked her up and bolted off, zipping to the other side of the beach in under twenty seconds. He came to a halt, wincing in pain. The friction from running made his soles raw and hot. He sat down, massaging his feet. Diddy set down the tote bag and sighed. She looked at Jasper

"Really nigga?"

"I ain't never been told I couldn't smoke on the fuckin' beach. Sounds like some dumb narc shit to me," Jasper said, lying down on the sand, adjusting his shades.

"He was hot too…" Diddy protested

"Wha'ever…"

The Dedenne girl sat next to him, "You have anger issues."

"You think?" He said sarcastically.

"Why tho?"

"Cuz I grew up in shitty ass Los Lados and niggas kept tryna test me," Jasper said, lighting another cigarette and taking a drag, "Always some moffucka tryna fuck with my sisters or my bros. If you didn't boss up, niggas think you pussy…but…yeah. It's stupid…"

"Yeah, I'm glad you realize it's fuckin' dumb, bruh. You not in Los Lados anymore."

"You can take the nigga out the hood, but you can't take the hood out the nigga," Jasper said coolly.

"I'm from Los Lados too…" Diddy reminded him, "And yeah…it's kinda…real out there."

"Yep. But…yeah maybe I should chill. I just…get angry when niggas try to pull up, ya know?" Just feel, deal and be real, he reminded himself. "If I was younger, I'd prolly get into an actual fight."

Diddy laid down and nuzzled him, "Yeah, but it's good that you ain't doin' that. Just be chill, bruh. It ain't that deep."

Jasper hummed, becoming calm from Diddy's touch. One thing that was certainly true was that touching another electric type was comforting. The polarizing energies felt good against the skin. He sighed, taking a drag as he chilled out, putting an arm around Diddy.

"I'm chill, I'm chill," he insisted. The hot summer sun beat down on him, but he didn't mind too much. He outstretched his hand, as if he was trying to grab the sun. Then he set it down and folded his arms behind his head. Eventually, Mardi and Pam saw them in the distance. They were with Festival who was lagging behind as usual. They sat with him, looking out into the ocean, enjoying each other's company in silence.

Be chill, Jasper thought, taking one more drag of his cigarette.

By nightfall, Jasper was driving home. Festival was asleep in the back, while Mardi was on her phone and Pam was looking out, watching the world race by her. Diddy was in the front, texting, her feet up on the dash as she smoked. He drove, cigarette in hand as his other arm was over the passenger seat as he leaned back. When he reached Cherry's duplex, he parked in front as usual and got out. Diddy jumped out and Pam woke up Festival. They all followed him into the house and he stretched, setting the keys aside. He went straight for the liquor cabinet, pouring himself some Absolut. Festival went to her room to sleep while Mardi sat on the couch, scrolling on her phone. Diddy was still texting and Pam turned on television. She switched channels until something caught her eye. Jasper sipped his drink, his hand in his pocket as he did. He phone began buzzing and he sighed, aggravated. He set down his cup and answered.

"What?"

"Yeah uh…" Chance swallowed hard, "Vinchenzi sent two of his boys to Bab Nights, intimidating me. He talkin' bout bumpin' the interest rate to—"

"30%, yes, I know."

"Nah, 40%," Chance said, "Cuz…Wally and Conway gettin' time and…I'm scott-free."

"..FORTY PERCENT?" Jasper shouted, "What the hell!"

"Yeah, compounded tri-monthly."

"The fuck!? I ain't finna pay that much! Fuck him!" Jasper yelled, "Tell him—"

"Ay bruh I ain't tellin' him shit," Chance said, "You tell him! What if this motherfucker decides to snipe me on my way home? Or worse—spray me down with water and kill me."

"Listen…what you know about some weight movers from East Kalos? Dempsey was tellin' me that this morning."

"Not much…" Chance said, "Just that these peeps mean business. They got the market cornered where they at."

"Start droppin' shit like Vinchenzi involved in moving weight, iight? I know what's comin' next."

"He does move weight," Chance said.

"Yeah but only yayo," Jasper said, "Add some shit, iight? I'm gon' see if that Chu Hua bitch retired yet."

"No she ain't, but she on paid leave right now," Chance said, "Somethin' about couples therapy."

"She needs to be dropped," Jasper insisted, "Not just paid leave. One more day…and then tell Chanel to drop the video, you heard?"

"Yeah, yeah, Jas," Chance said, putting a hand to his head, "Just…make sure you ain't in over your head."

"I'm fine Chance. Now get to it," he said, hanging up. He lit a cigarette and took a drag, sighing quietly to himself.

Let's do this, nigga

40% my ass. The fuck? Nah

Let's do this.