Chapter Twenty-Three:

Protect Me

He found himself in a small cottage by the seaside. It was quaint and comfy, something he wouldn't normally choose. The sun was high in a blinding sky and the air was warm and arid. He could smell the familiar scent of cherries and as he closed his eyes, he could see the red mist engulf the cottage. With one quiet exhale, he knocked on the white wooden door that had gorgeous ivy espaliered on its surface. He opened his eyes when the door cracked open. Standing in the corridor was Cherry. She was wearing a white and black dress and had her hair out and loose: a lovely afro. Her lips were painted crimson and she kissed Jasper on the cheek, leaving the lipstick print on his skin. She held out her hand and he took it, following her down a long, old-world corridor, furnished with relics of the past and anachronisms of the future. When they reached the dining room, there was food laid out on a long rectangular table, well decorated with a cornucopia and lit scented candles. Jasper sat at the head of the table while Cherry sat to his right, smiling at him. He smiled back at her, but it was a sad smile. He couldn't bring himself to be happy to see her. He sighed soundlessly, touching her face, noticing she was bleeding from her cheek. He wasn't surprised or disgusted, but dejected at the sight. He looked at his bloodstained hand and wiped it against the provided napkin on the table. The banquet was beautiful and Cherry was beautiful. He felt his throat tighten as he tried to speak, but he managed to force the words out.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm…so sorry."

Cherry looked at him. It was a blank, incomprehensible look. Jasper's ears drooped. He touched her hand and squeezed it gently.

"I shoulda protected you better," Jasper said gently.

"Yes," she whispered.

"You'd be better off with me," he said.

"Would I?"

Jasper looked back up at her. Cherry stood up and plucked a grape from the display, daintily eating it.

"You wouldn't have hurt me like Leon, but you would have hurt me in other ways. You're always hurting women." Jasper watched her as she walked across the room, picking up some soursop. She started playing with it as she spoke, "Always."

"…" Jasper sighed, unable to say anything else.

"It's not a surprise," she said, looking down at the fruit, "Girls like me, always end up on the end of some bullshit. Nobody respects us or protects us. And you wouldn't have either. I'm not a prop for you."

"I…ain't want you to be no prop," Jasper said.

"Ain't it sad? I'm dead and Kayla is alive and well. And nobody cares. Typical life of a black girl, yeah? Always getting fucked over by someone. There is no protection—you wouldn't have protected me. And I think…honestly, if you would, you couldn't."

"What makes you say that?"

"You in too deep," Cherry said, "But you ain't much different from Leon. Ay, you may not shoot women in their heads, or beat them. But you ain't protecting them. And why would you? You're…you. And I'm me. A black woman…and people think we're disposable. Sad truth, but it's the truth. You don't wanna protect shit. You wanna acquire shit. You wanted to acquire me. But is that really…protecting?"

"…" Jasper reached for the white wine on the table and poured himself a glass. He took a swig.

"I gotta be incredible to just be visible," Cherry said, "I had to work harder than Kayla just to be on these magazine covers. I had to be smarter and sexier just for Leon to pay more attention to me than her. It isn't fair. But you saw me. You wanted to me. That don't mean you wanted to protect me."

"I would tho," Jasper insisted.

"Would you?" Cherry said, "Or would you just fuck me and then get tired of me? Like you do with everyone else?"

"I'm tryna stop that," Jasper explained.

"That is always going to be with you, even if you don't do it, that…thing in your brain, is always going to be there. And you'll get comfortable with me and fall right back into the same fuck shit."

Cherry walked around the table, touching her bleeding face, "You ain't kill me. Leon did. But don't pretend like you would have saved me. You would have destroyed me in different ways." She set the soursop down, "Usual shit for a woman like me."

"And what about me? I ain't livin' so easy."

"But you're not invisible," Cherry said, "Disrespected. People may fear yo ass…but they don't disrespect you like they do to me. You's a man and a mon. You may be black…or black passing, wha'ever you wanna call it, but fear of the annihilation of your soul is not in you. Girls like me end up dead or missing every day. And it just slips on by. People say they wanna protect me? But what do they really want? Would they still try to protect me if I was…old? Not as dainty? Not a model? And even then, I still died. You still failed. You won't protect me and worse, you can't."

Jasper stared at her as she walked by, her fingers trailing against the wall, smearing blood over it.

"I'm a broken moffucka," Jasper admitted, "And…well…"

"We all broken, my guy. Society breaks us," Cherry said, "But I'm dead and forgotten…and you're alive and remembered. So you're not that broken."

"If I could change shit, I would," Jasper said.

"I don't know if you would," Cherry said, "And I don't think you could." She sat down, taking up some of the food. Jasper looked around and jumped, startled when he saw Glory sitting around the table—the mother of his firstborn, Nadio. Her skin was the color of chestnuts and her hair a curly frosty white-blue. Her eyes were pale blue and large. She was only a few years older than Jasper—being in her mid-fifties. She had the ears and fluffy ice-white tails of Ninetales line, of the Alolan variation.

"Glory?" Jasper asked, surprised.

"Hi Jasper," she said, reaching for some meat, "You haven't called, as usual."

"I'm busy," he said and then cleared his throat, eating his words, "Fuck…"

"Well of course. You stopped paying child support once Nadio hit eighteen. You too busy to talk to me."

Glory grabbed a glass of wine and chilled it with her breath, her eyes sparkling a deep blue briefly before returning to its pale color. She sipped it and gave Jasper a sidelong glance.

"Ay…Glory…I'm sorry for that. I…been caught up—"

"Cheating," Glory said. "When we were young and we got together, why'd you fuck around with me? You were fuckin' my friend and her sister. But err'night you'd come around, tal'bout wantin' to be with me and only me. Then you'd disappear for days, sometimes weeks and you'd come back smellin' like strange."

"I…"

"And of course, the drugs," Glory said, sipping her wine again, "You really like yo yayo. You really like talkin' big. 'I'm gonna do big things.' Meanwhile, you were sellin' 8-balls and still sniffin' around your mom for money while you worked at some whackass auto shop. Oh yeah, soooooo much big things, indeed."

Jasper sipped his wine, looking at Glory.

"Why you tell me you love me when you didn't," she said, "Why you dip out when Nadio was born? You thought he wasn't yours? The lil' nigga was definitely yours. You just didn't wanna be in his life…because you didn't wanna be in mine."

"Ay…I wasn't ready."

"Then you shouldn't have nutted in me," Glory said matter-of-factly, "Shouldn't have told me you loooveeee me. But I shoulda known better. Playa ass…"

Jasper wanted to argue but he relented, sitting back in his seat, downing his wine and pouring himself another glass.

"It's typical."

His ears turned before he looked over. Sitting beside Glory was Revelry's mother, Lucky. She was in her late forties and of the Absol lineage. Her skin was a deep black-blue and her hair was thick and wiry, pure white with a black streak through the left side. Her eyes were red and she sported the scythe-like protrusion from the side of her head, typical of those of that line.

"Lucky…fuck…" Jasper grumbled. Lucky put some of the fruits on her plate, looking at Jasper.

"You really hate me, do you?" She asked, popping a grape in her mouth, "You're horrible."

"Mmmhm, yep…"

"Don't dismiss me," Lucky barked, looking hurt, "When I met you, you were so romantic. Then you went cold just a few months in."

"He was cheating," Glory said, sipping her wine.

"I know," Lucky said, her voice cracking, "You fucking cheated, then got me pregnant and then cheated some more. What the fuck was wrong with you?"

"A lot's wrong with me," Jasper admitted.

"I kept asking you when you'd marry me. You weren't ready I guess. But…then you just up and left. No word, no nothing. You left me and Revelry and then popped back in when you need money."

"Yeah…"

"And at least you stayed for a year or two with Revelry…but then you just…disappeared again. For so long, I wondered…what I did wrong to make you leave."

Jasper sighed, covering his face, feeling a pang of guilt rip through his heart.

"I did nothing wrong," Lucky mumbled, "You were just fucked up. And even though you tried to be in Revelry's life, you went off and got some other bitch pregnant."

"Yep, he does that," Glory said, pouring some more wine, "He cheated on me with you, Lucky."

"I-I know," Lucky whimpered, "Revelry is your daughter. How could you just…linger around…for just a year and leave? Didn't you feel bad?"

Yes. I did, Jasper thought, downing his wine and pouring one more glass.

"Pretty sure he ain't feel as bad as me."

There sitting across from Lucky was mother of Jamboree, his third eldest. Her name was Sheba. She was in her early forties. She had fair skin and brown freckles, frizzy, semi loose brown curls and light brown eyes. She was of the Furret line, exhibiting the ears and distinctive ringed tail of those of that extraction. Sheba reached for the nuts and fruits, nibbling on them.

"I confronted you so many times," Sheba said, "And you gaslit me. You lied to me. 'Who is this?' 'Oh that's nobody bae.' Fuck you."

"Yeah…I know," Jasper whispered.

"You was literally fuckin' someone else when I was givin' birth," Sheba yelled at him, throwing the utensils across the room, "And what you do? Only show up for Jamboree's birthdays—on occasion—and never called me!"

"I was—"

"Busy? Yeah. Busy stickin' yo dick in everyone else," Sheba barked, "Why'd you lay with me, sayin' that you give any fucks about me, when you really didn't? Why you always lyin?"

"Welcome to the club," Glory said.

"You couldn't…even marry me," Sheba screeched, "But it's good that you didn't! You fucked my friend! You fucked people I knew on the block! I was lookin' stupid dating the community dick! Fuck you, Jasper! Fuck you! Jamboree never needs to see yo ass again! I'm so glad she turned eighteen! We don't need yo money no more! You'll never see her again!" Sheba yelled, flipping the plates over and walking away, leaving the dining room.

"Oh, boo hoo," another woman said, sitting at the end of the table. She was the mother of Celebrity, the fourth oldest at seventeen, which was a recent development.

"Hello Chiara," Jasper droned.

Chiara gave him a harsh grin, showing her sharp, large fangs. She was in her late thirties. She was the spitting image of her daughter: petite, with mocha colored skin and thick, tightly curled black hair, with light brown eyes. She was of the Houndoom line, having the mon's metallic horns and spaded tail.

"Hi Jasper. How are you? Oh yes, I know, too busy bein' a deadbeat. You missing some payments and of course, Celebrity always wonderin' where you be."

"I…be around."

"No you not," Chiara said, "You ain't ever around. I mean, you around a bunch of young broads, partying, drinking and fucking them—but you ain't ever around."

He looked at Chiara. She was twenty when he first met her and he was in his mid-thirties. He knocked her up while he'd been fucking around with Maserati (whom he also knocked up) and Sheba, but Chiara kept Celebrity hidden until she was toddler.

"You hid her from me," Jasper reminded Chiara.

"Good. You didn't get yo nasty poison on her in her formative years," she snapped back, "I don't love you. I just want you to step up and pay you fucking child support. You ain't ever around—but what's to expect from a nigga like you?"

"I'm sorry Chiara."

"Too late for that nigga," he said, "Celebrity grew up just fine without you. She's beautiful and she's gonna model. She don't need your…sickness, in her."

"Yeah…makes sense," Jasper murmured, feeling tears starting to fall down his face.

Chiara sucked her teeth and got some fresh beef on her plate and began chowing down. Jasper poured more wine.

"You really…ain't shit, ain't you?"

He sighed, looking down at the table. Maserati was sitting by Chiara, stacking her plate with all the food she could inhale. While Mardi had blonde hair that faded in to a dark brown, almost black color, Maserati's hair was split colored: half blonde, half brown-black, with light brown roots creeping in. She was on the hefty side, with dark eyes and light brown skin and her late thirties as well. She plopped down and began eating.

"Yeah, yeah, we established that," Jasper growled, downing more wine.

"I ain't wanted a kid, but I kept it, thinkin'…eh, shit might not be bad. Ya know, child support, a father figure…guess my ass was wrong. I didn't want that brat. She's yours now. Hope you don't try to fuck her like you did your sister, yeah?"

Jasper cringed and as the other women laughed. Maserati took a large bite of a chicken leg.

"You can't possibly know that—oh fuck it," Jasper rumbled, massaging his temples.

"I hate you," Maserati said, "But that's nothing new, yeah?"

"Yeah," Glory said, shrugging, "Nothing new."

"I hate you and I hope for her sake, Mardi ends up nothin' like your trifling, hoe ass."

Jasper glared at her and took a swig of wine straight from the bottle. The wine kept refilling itself, no matter how much he drank.

"Broke ass," Maserati scowled, "And you skipped out on yo court dates when you failed to make your payments. Bitch ass nigga…what is you even good for?"

"Good for nothing, really…but breaking hearts," Lucky mumbled, sniffing.

"Or just abandoning you," Glory said, jaded as she sipped her wine.

"Spreading your disgusting lifestyle around," Chiara said, "I hope my daughter grows up to be nothing like you."

He drank the wine straight from the bottle, wanting to forget all of this.

"At least he married me."

Fauna walked in, sitting across from Maserati.

"And what good that did you, sweetie?" Glory asked

"Nothing," Fauna answered, "He married me and was still cheating during the whole time he was with me."

She looked at Jasper, "I was eighteen when you met me. You…knocked me up…married me when Festival was ten. During those years…that you were with me, you were fuckin' around. But I knew you had other kids. I should have known better. I'm thirty-two now…and I'm glad I divorced you. I'm not wasting any more time with someone who doesn't love me."

"I did love you," Jasper said.

"No you didn't," Fauna dismissed, taking a piece of the cheesecake, "You loved your money, your hustle and your hoes. You liked showing off. You liked never being there for Festival. You're worthless and…I thought you wasted my best years. But really, my best years are ahead of me."

"Yeah…Fauna," Jasper whispered, "They are."

Fauna got up, taking the cheesecake with her, leaving the dining room as she took a bite of it.

"You need help."

Jasper lifted her eyes. Denise, Carnival's mother, walked in, sitting close to him. She was in her late twenties. She sported lovely micro-braids, a deep complexion and a curvaceous body.

"Carnival is eight now," Denise said, "But I don't see you at any of her birthdays…"

"Yeah…"

"A mon father and a human mother," Denise reminded him, "She's half of you. How could you just….forget her like that?"

"I'm…too deep…I'm caught up," Jasper said, feeling lightheaded.

"I can tell," Denise said, "I keep thinking you'll call. But you only call to yell at me about child support. You don't wanna see Carnival."

"I do."

"Then see her," Denise said, "Stop wasting her time. She's gonna be grown soon and by then, it's gon' be too late."

"I know, Denise."

"Then why you always runnin'?" Denise asked, looking around at the other women. Glory was jaded and drinking, Lucky was weeping quietly, Chiara glared angrily at Jasper, Jamboree and Fauna had left and Maserati ate angrily. Denise didn't eat anything—rather she sat, looking dejected. Jasper took another swig and got up from his seat, feeling sick to his stomach. He saw Cherry sitting in the hallway, smoking. She was bleeding from her face again.

"Stop tryna play people," she said, her voice sound distorted and harsh, "Stop playin' yourself. Just treat us better."

"…I'm tryna…do that…"

Cherry got up and walked up to him, "I wonder what will happen to you."

"I made it this far and this long," Jasper whispered, wiping the blood off her face, "I…don't know you and I don't know if I would've protected you. But I'm gon' be better. Okay?"

Cherry smiled sadly, "Ah…we will see, Jasper. We will see. But first you have to wake up."

"Wake up?"

Yeah.

Wake up

He jerked from his sleep and moaned, feeling a headache creeping in. He was in his bed—well, Cherry's bed. He felt his side and saw that he was fully healed, even though was some pain still lingering his body. He saw Pam lying on the ground, in her sleeping bag, fast asleep and fully recovered. Festival was at the foot of his bed, on her back and resting. Mardi was next to him to his left, and Diddy was to his right. He reached for his cigarette and lit it, taking a drag. He blew out some smoke and looked at Diddy's shoulder. It was patched up and she was sleeping soundly. He took another drag and got up, stretching. I need to be better, he thought. But ion know how. He looked at his phone, seeing the dozens of texts.

Time to go to war.

Jasper sat in the lounging area of the Kabana, wondering two things: who were those shooters and how did they find him. He took out his flask and poured vodka into the tea he ordered and then sipped it. Eventually, Haze walked in and took a seat beside him in the booth.

"Rum and coke," he told the waitress. She gave him a quick nod and trotted off to the back, to get his drink order in.

"I'm gettin' too fuckin' old for this shit," Jasper grumbled.

"At least you alive," Haze pointed out.

"Who the fuck is these people—what they want—"

"Well the woman who's the head of that whole operation, her name's Natasha. She been runnin' shit in East Kalos."

"So it those niggas," Jasper sighed, "And now they tryna run shit here. But how the hell she know I was at the opera house."

"Cuz she know who you is," Haze said, "And nigga…you posted that you was at Palmhamptons on the Gram. Like a bunch of times." He took out his phone, clicking on the photos and read the captions, 'Flexin' on you young niggas, got five Palmhampton Opera tickets.' 'Omw to the opera, you niggas wish you could.' 'At the Palmhamtpon Opera, lookin' litty out here.' Bro, really?"

"Oh," Jasper said sheepishly, "Didn't think she'd actually be lookin'."

"You gotta stop flexin," Haze said, "At least so publically. Niggas be hatin', and they can pull up on you. Natasha knew where you was gon' be cuz you flexin'. And yo kids…can't be flexin' either, if they gon live with you."

"Yeah, you right, you right."

The waitress returned with Haze's rum and coke, setting it down in front of him. He swirled the drink around before sipping it through a straw. As he drank, Chanel entered, greeting the people at the front desk and went straight to the lounge, sitting across from both mons. She took out her phone and began scrolling through it, then paused, clicking play on a news video. She showed it to both of them, steepling her fingers.

"Massive shootout at Palmhampton Opera House," the anchor said, "Twenty-six dead, thirty nine injured. Sadina is on the scene, Sadina?"

"Yes, thank you John. It was a lovely night in Palmhampton, but it was cut short by deadly shootout. Authorities have not made any arrests, but they are quite certain that this is mob and gang related activity. However, they have no leads. Witnesses claimed to have seen a woman and several men opening fire, however, their identities have not been confirmed. The descriptions of said perpetuators are not consistent—"

Chanel turned off her phone and pocketed it.

"No leads? These niggas are worthless for real." She called over the waitress, asking for a daiquiri.

"Right away miss," the waitress said with a smile, leaving them to their discussions.

Jasper sipped his spiked tea, "Them niggas in the background looked shook."

"Honestly, it's kinda funny," Chanel said, "I mean it's sad that so many civilians took some licks, but its funny cuz…that kinda shit never happens in Palmhampton."

"Oh, and by the way," Haze said, sipping his drink, "We're meetin' two of Vinchenzi's niggas tomorrow."

Jasper raised an eyebrow, "Which ones and why?"

"I think they names are Indy and Glen…they approached Chance for help, actually. But he didn't wanna talk to them niggas so he asked me to. Vinchenzi too proud to ask for help but these niggas aren't."

"And why the fuck should we be helpin' them?" Jasper scowled.

"Cuz one, Natasha's operation is enormous nigga. She got more money and more niggas than Vinchenzi could dream for, and a lot more than us too. And secondly, they said they'd drop the loan—principal and interest—if you helped. Consider that 500,000 you borrowed…a gift."

Jasper thought about it and nodded, "Fine, iight. I'll hear 'em out."

"Also," Chanel added, "Some of Lourez's peeps comin' back to the NPCPD after Chu Hua got ousted."

"She still suspended or somethin' or is she gone gone?"

"She deactivated her social media and went off the grid. Accordin' to some niggas who be snoopin' around, she not with her lil' boo no more. That's done. She's MIA."

"Wouldn't count her out just yet," Haze said, taking the last sip of his rum and coke, "Cuz she can still come after niggas for extortion and blackmail."

"If they even believe her dumbass," Chanel said.

"Prolly not, cuz she's a foreigner and a mon, but ya know, it only takes one."

Jasper excused himself from those two and went to the back of the Kabana, near the bathrooms. He took out his phone, took a deep, anxious breath and exhaled. He then dialed a contact. After a few rings, a woman picked up.

"H-hello?"

"Denise?"

"…Jasper?" Denise said, sounding surprised, "What you calling for? What? You hitting me up for money or something?"

"Nah, nah, I'm good on that…you been gettin' my payments yeah?"

"Yeah…for once you on time," Denise said. There was a bit of a silence, "Why you calling tho?"

"Just…callin' to check in," Jasper said, "How's Carnival?"

Denise leaned back in her seat, "She's…okay. She misses you…for whatever reason. But she's okay."

"How's her summer break?"

"How about you ask her yourself," Denise said, calling Carnival over. The young girl walked over and Denise gave her the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi baby," Jasper said.

"Hi dad," Carnival replied, smiling.

"Hey…how you doing? Having fun with mommy?"

"Yeah. We were painting today. It was fun. I'm going to visit grandma tomorrow."

"Oh good, good," Jasper said, swallowing hard, "You sound…different."

"She sounds older," Denise said in the background, picking up plates and setting them in the sink.

"Yeah…I'm eight now," Carnival said.

"Big girl now," Jasper said, sitting on the floor, "How's your moms?"

Carnival looked at Denise who smiled at her.

"She's doing okay. She has a new job now. She's a uh…what's it called again?"

"I'm an image consultant," Denise said, laughing a little.

"Yeah, image consultant," Carnival repeated, giggling. Jasper smiled at hearing her cute laugh. He spoke with her about light, fun things for a while. School, fashion and new projects Carnival was interested in like painting and hair styling. Soon enough, Denise took the phone, sending Carnival to bed.

"Hey…Denise," Jasper began, "Before the end of the year…can I…visit? Ya know…see Carnival…spend some time with her…and you."

She closed the curtains, "You really wanna do that?"

"Yeah…I do."

"You gonna flake out like you usually do?" Denise asked, sitting down on the couch and putting her feet up.

"Nah…I'ma be there, I won't flake."

"…You better, Jasper. Carnival still likes you."

"Yeah…I won't flake," he reassured. Denise gave a sad smile and sighed inaudibly.

"Okay…I'll…see you around soon then."

"Bet."

Denise smiled and hung up, leaning back in her couch. Jasper, in the other hand, stood up and scrolled through his contacts.

Glory, he thought. It was late. I'll call tomorrow morning. He pocketed his phone and walked back to the lounge area, which was now occupied by Sticks and Parker, smoking and drinking. He took his seat and yawned, sipping his spiked tea again, listening to them talk, discuss, joke and laugh. He wondered why Leon always acted like they were just…there to do whatever for him. They were legitimately fun to be around.

I'll call tomorrow morning.

He ordered a new drink and joined in on the conversation.