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She turned and picked up the cordless phone, calling 911. The entire time she reported the apparent overdose of her “boyfriend” in their apartment, her eyes were locked on that safe.
He owes me.
After ending the call, she picked up the safe and left the room, giving his dead body one last look before closing the door. The weight of the safe in her arms was nothing to the weight she now felt on her shoulders.
Desdemona reached for her locket on her bracelet. Most times she repressed that memory of her death-filled last moments with Majig. Looking on as Plum struggled with her own heroin addiction brought it all back home. She didn’t want her to lose the battle, but she had to want it for herself.
Like I did. It was my freedom or his power over me.
Choose yourself, Plum. Please.
Plum released a long, heavy breath as she rose to her feet. She smirked. “When it’s good I love it. When it’s bad I hate it, but I need it to stop feeling bad,” she admitted, casting Desdemona a brief look before fixating on the drug again. “Chicken or the egg, you know?”
She remained quiet.
Plum stepped over and stooped down to pick it up. “You almost killed me,” she said, stroking the clear bag with her thumb as she walked over to the bathroom.
Desdemona looked on as Plum raised the bag to her mouth and kissed it before dropping it into the commode and flushing it away. She felt flooded with relief.There’s hope.
Plum continued looking down into the commode. “Something in me wishes I could dive down there,” she said.
“That’s your brain,” Desdemona said, walking over to her. “You have to reprogram it not to crave it.”
The woman’s eyes shifted up to the mirror over the commode.
“You’re fired, Plum,” Desdemona said, forcing firmness into her voice. “But I will pay for you to go to rehab—ninety days or more—to get rewired so you don’tthinkyou love it.”
Plum’s face crumbled with her emotions, and she covered it with her trembling hands.
“And when you get out, I will give you the same amount of money you normally make in three months to help you get on your feet,” she finished, eyeing her reflection. “But you’ll never work for me again, and I don’t think this line of work is for you anymore.”
“I wanna go,” she whispered through her fingers.
“Tonight,” Desdemona stressed.
She nodded.
“Okay, I’ll be right back. Stay here.” Desdemona walked across the room but hesitated and turned. “How’d you beat the drug test?”
Plum gave a slight smile. “I used to wait to get high until after the monthly test,” she said.
A flaw in her plan.
“Just that simple,” Desdemona admitted.
Plum shrugged one shoulder.
She turned and left, leaving the door ajar.
Denzin had waited and turned as she entered the hall.
“Stay with her. I’m going to try to get her in a ninety-day program tonight,” she said to him softly.
He nodded, his eyes troubled. “I will.”
As soon as he was back inside the room with Plum, Desdemona allowed her knees to buckle a bit as she gripped the railing and looked down at the foyer below. She closed her eyes, hating that she so clearly recalled Majig’s dead pose.
It was a secret she shared with no one how she had stepped in to claim Majig’s throne. Instead, she focused on changing the game, in how she treated the women whochoseto remain working for her. But it took a long time for her to accept and reconcile that she had done what she had to do.
