2022-07-18 16:27:04Neveah sat alone in the kitchen. Momma had gone to her room, leaving everything behind—the bills, her phone, her daughter…
Now Momma was taking a nap using the sleeping aid of her choice. Because of course she was.
For the past hour, Neveah sat at the kitchen table flipping through her phone, not really looking at anything. Her thoughts played the morning’s events again and again.
The doctors called it “rumination”. Over and over, Neveah rehearsed and re-chewed the day like a cow and its cud—the partially digested food that a cow vomits up so it can chew and digest it again. In this way Neveah brought up Devon’s fight with Momma… the incident with the hat… Devon storming out… her mother snapping at her… her prayer for Devon to come home…
Neveah flicked through her phone like a Buddhist priest with his prayer beads, flicking and flicking in a kind of dark meditation. Unlike the priest, Neveah’s meditations led not to the peace of emptiness, but the chaotic noise of thoughts that would not go away, buzzing like a screaming horde of flies and radio static through which the barest glimmers of memories could break through, warped, twisted and horrible.
Over and over, she brought up the memory. Over and over she chewed on it, digesting it, bringing it up again, beating it and molding it until it was acceptable enough to swallow.
She had only been trying to help, she thought. Her brother had gone and spent so much money, selfishly, on himself when he knew the family was struggling. He knew better than to buy nonsense fantasy crap when Momma worked as hard as she did to put food on their table. It was her duty to the family that Neveah did what she did—to expose her selfish, self-serving brother for Momma’s sake.
There was no reason for Momma to be sad. The problem had taken care of itself. No longer would they be plagued by Devon’s stupid selfishness. Momma had suffered so much, needlessly and without complaint, and it was her duty as her daughter to protect Momma from shameless and self-serving men—even if it was her own brother.
Yes. That would be the truth.
Neveah chewed on the inside of her cheek until it started to taste like iron.
Then Neveah heard Momma’s phone buzz. It snapped her out of her thoughts. Maybe it was another bill collector. Sometimes Momma would ask Neveah to pretend to be a secretary and turn the bill collectors away. Neveah got a small thrill out of this—like playing hide and seek with voices. So she felt nothing picking up Momma’s phone and looking at the message inside.
Her eyes widened. It wasa text from Devon:
DEVVIE DEVIL-FOOD: hey Momma just wanted to let you know i’m safe and on the bus to NHCC
DEVVIE DEVIL-FOOD: im sorry for fighting w u today…can we talk later?
DEVVIE DEVIL-FOOD: love you Momma
Neveah looked at the screen for some time. Her hands trembled, and she chewed on her cheeks again.
Of course Devon would do this. Manipulative little sneak. He was just saying words to worm his way back into Momma’s good graces. But isn’t this what she wanted? Without Devon, there wouldn’t be anyone else to take the heat when Momma got stressed or angry…
If he comes back, things can go back to normal.
NO. WE CANNOT LOSE.
But what are we losing? Let’s be real—even if Devon comes back, we’ll still be Momma’s favorite. You know we pushed her too far—let’s take the L and go back to the way things were.
WE. CANNOT. LOSE.
Thoughts raced around Neveah’s head so fast that she started to feel dizzy. Her entire body buzzed with stress. She wanted to throw up—and she did, in the bathroom quietly where nobody could hear.
“I should have kept it in,” she hissed, wiping the sick from her mouth. “I could have kept it in.”
When she came back, her head felt a little clearer . She washed her mouth out with water and flushed all the evidence from her face. Then, to further cover her tracks, she got out a breath mint from the cabinet where Momma kept things like sucking candy, loose change, and the spare keys. She cracked the mint with her teeth, chewing the freshness until the sick-taste went away and the evidence was gone forever.
The ritual gave Neveah time to clear her head and quiet the storm of thoughts. Slowly, a clearer line of thinking overtook her.
Didn’t she just say that Neveah did what she did for Momma’s protection?
Didn’t she just say that it was her duty as her daughter to protect her—even if that meant taking a bit more heat now and then?
Devon was being manipulative, plain and simple. Neveah had to do something. And really, Momma couldn’t ever get that angry at her—after all, Neveah was her only daughter. That had to mean something, right?The decision was made, and the path was clear.
Neveah opened her mother’s phone and began to craft the final message:MARYANNE: Devon, u have brought shame and disrespct to this house for the last time. U made ur choice. U are ded to this family and I am blocking u. Don’t come back.
With the message crafted, perfect and complete, she hesitated briefly. Was she really going to go through with this? Was she really going to cut off her own brother from her family for good? Even for Neveah, this was crossing a scary new boundary.
DO IT, NEVEAH. LOSING IS NOT AN OPTION.
Yes. Losing was not an option.
Previous Chapter
Related Chapters
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 11
After a few moments, Devon’s phone buzzed. The front of the message read: MOMMA.He clicked open the phone. There was a message from Momma. The message was clear. He clicked shut the phone. “You gave brought shame and ‘disrespct’…” he mouthed the word, pronouncing it like ‘diss-ree-speck.’ He leaned back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut. “My god, Neveah…someone ought to teach you how to spell.”Clearly it was Neveah’s work. Momma, the educated woman that she, never used slang or mistyped. Ever. All it took was a simple comparison of Momma’s older messages to see the difference. She may have given up on her own children’s slang, but Momma stood firm against that linguistic tide. Did Neveah not notice how her own mother wrote? Did she not care?Key in this was the “u”—that was a young person’s affectation. Devon even used it sometimes. Neveah used it constantly. But Momma? Never. Putting the two texts together only made it more obvious.MOMMA: Love you always Devon-Devilcake
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 12
Last stop—New Hudson Convention Center.The bus crawled over to the bus station and, hissing, the bus’s tired deflated. It sounded to Devon like a dragon’s mighty fart after returning to its cave after a long day of pillaging and burning villages. Hoisting up his bag and, after giving it a brief once-over to make sure everything was zipped and secured tight, Devon debarked from the bus. As he left, the driver looked up from his magazine.“Nice hat,” the driver said with a thumbs up.“Thanks,” Devon smiled. But the driver had already returned to his magazine before he could respond.Devon left the bus. What greeted him was a scene of colorful chaos.The Convention Center looked like an enormous blue doughnut, rising
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 13
It was Lanie. Picture a butterfly. Imagine drawing a thread in time from the day it was a caterpillar, and follow that thread backwards and forwards. Somewhere in the middle of that journey, the caterpillar would have entered its cocoon and become something entirely different. But her voice…the way her eyes were just a little too far apart…and the Cookie Cat phone-case. It was Lanie. There was no mistaking it. Devon stood mouth agape, barely having the energy to stammer. This person had laid dormant of his mind for years, only popping up on rare occasions he delved into his own childhood. Now, twice in one day, she had come back into his life; first in his thoughts and now before his eyes. And she had not just returned—she had transformed. Her blonde hair was now dyed jet black. Her oversized front teeth now fit neatly behind a mouth that was lightly tinted in professional, fashionable color. She was the very image of consummate professionalism, no longer the dirt-caked playmat
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 14
They squared up. Devon was taller than Marc, but not by much. Marc glowered at Devon until, inexplicably, he started laughing.“I’m sorry. I just can’t take you seriously with that hat. Holy crap, what am I thinking?” Marc wiped away something from the corner of his eye. Devon felt heat rush to his cheeks.“Whatever, man.”“Look, Hunter Green, the both of us have stuff to do if we want to run your stupid freak show. Quite frankly, I’m not about to ruin my day over this so…yeah.” Marc smirked. Devon raised an eyebrow. “Run what? What are you talking about?”Snickering and shaking his head, Marc reached into his suit’s breast pocket and pulled ou a name card. He handed it to Devon with a little flip, barely able to contain his glee. Reluctantly, Devon took the card. Reading it over, Devon’s face deflated. Marc AbramovNew Hudson Convention Center Hospitality Executive Guest Services Manager “You, uh, work for the hotel,” Devon said weakly. “Uh, yeah, we do,” Marc said, mocking him
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 15
“That’s right,” Marc said. “Just need to make a call and it’ll be done—whole weekend, free hotel, so long as you can keep from breaking anything getting freak-fluids on my floors.”Lanie tugged at Marc’s sleeve. “Marc, stop it. Why are you doing this?”“Well, he’s your friend, isn’t he? Feels like the least I could do. Besides, from the looks of him, I think he could use a hand up right now. Isn’t that right, Hunter Green?”Devon found it hard to look at Marc. His gaze seemed to be drawn to the floor. He did need that money. Practically speaking, he was about to be homeless at the end of the week with nothing but the clothes on his bag and whatever he had thrown into his bag. Those few hundred bucks could go a long way getting him started on his ‘new life’. But the way that Marc sneered. The way he lorded and gloated—his every expression made Devon want to crawl into a hole. Yet here he was, with money on the table—and practically speaking, he wasn’t in a position to refuse. “… I-uh
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 16
Devon took the offer—in return for getting his hotel room refunded, he made an agreement with Marc not to incur any damages while at the hotel. On the one hand, it shouldn’t be too hard. He was not a rambunctious type, and he liked to believe that he knew how to behave himself. On the other hand, by a accepting this agreement, he was no longer protected by Omniverse’s insurance.If something did happen…No. Nothing was going to happen. First of all, all the problems he’d incurred were because of stupid people harassing him over his costume. But now here he was, where costumes are accepted and considered normal. Nobody was going to give him trouble about that this weekend. Or so he hoped.Marc, still sneering, made the call right there in front of him. In short order, someone on the other end picked up. “Hi, Chris, I’d like you to comp a guest with Omniverse? Uh huh… with Omniverse.” Marc’s expression was one entirely of malignant delight, but his voice was the perfect reflection of
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 17
In what seemed to be a continuing trend ever since he left the house, Devon had only continued to benefit from strangers at the cost of his own dignity. All he wanted to do now was get to his suddenly free hotel and go to sleep. The line for the convention reduced some from earlier, but there was no avoiding the wait. Back he would need to go into the sun. The heat of the day had reduced from blazing to merely stewing hot. The worst of the day’s sun was over, leaving its scorched slag behind. Heat radiated from the sidewalk and everyone who stood upon it was an upright sausage roasting in casings of felt, plaster, and sculpting foam. No dogs allowed at the NHCC, but if any dogs could walk along that sidewalk, they would have been overwhelmed by the collective chemical screams of over a hundred people at once.But despite the opinions of certain staff members of the NHCC, Devon and the convention goers were, in fact, not animals. The only messages they heard during the half an hour w
Duke of Two Cities Chapter 18
Panic shot through Devon’s brain like an icicle dropped on his head and melting to his knees. He patted down his pockets. Already he could hear the hurricane whirr of Tamara roaring. With trembling hands, Devon opened his bag and— —there it was, sticking out of his pants pocket.“Oh, thank god.” Devon pulled out the registration receipt and handed it to the ticket girl. “Here. Sorry about that.”The ticket girl took the paper, smiling. “No worries,” she said. “Breathe. You look like you’ve been through hell today.”Devon laughed nervously, nodding. Man, if this girl is saying I look like shit… man, I must really look like shit. “Well, relax, you made it. It’s this heat!” laughed the ticket girl. “It’s making everyone a bit crazy.”“Oh, I know that for sure,” Devon said. Behind him, Tamyra’s suppressed, screaming tantrum sounded like a very small jet-engine about to take off, her rage barely restrained by her hungry-looking companion. To Devon’s horror, the ticket counter girl supp
Latest Chapter
Chapter 52
His room had been cancelled. Just like that. No warning, no notice. At the snap of Marc’s fingers, Devon had been unceremoniously tossed out of a Convention that he literally gave up his family to attend. Devon stared at Marc for a while. Then, he laughed. He laughed quietly, then he laughed loudly, cackling, until he had no more breath in him. And still he laughed. This had been, by far, the most ridiculous weekend in Devon’s entire life. He had given up his family in a moment of anger, suffered assault and insult nearly daily, only to befriend some kind of foreign royalty who, while defending his newfound friend, had sacrificed the only housing he would have for the foreseeable future. Ridiculous! His life had become a joke, some absurd and wild story written by a mad idiot. This was a weekend that would define the rest of his life, and it all had just been so unbelievably stupid. Meanwhile, Marc looked as though he were about to leap out of the Executive Lounge window from shee
Chapter 51
Things were getting out of hand. Zayin needed to think quickly; his Prince was going to start digging himself into a deep and terribly expensive hole. Yes, Ali had certain entitlements to his family’s wealth…in theory. But Ali had never tapped into his family’s wealth before—Zayin wasn’t even sure that he could. It was a poorly kept secret that more than one relative had access to Ali’s accounts…including Cousin Sayid. To his shame, Zayin was quietly praying that there was not enough left to embarrass the Prince. He never thought that he would ever wish for relatives to embezzle the Prince’s funds. Even with his Aunts and Cousin Sayid dipping into his funds, Ali’s personal wealth was enough that he could make serious trouble for himself, as well as the Kingdom. And with the stone-set fury on Ali’s face, trouble would come. Perhaps the key to solving the trouble lay in Ali’s ‘brother’. “You.” He pointed at Devon and spoke in English. “Come with me, please.”Quietly, Devon complied.
Chapter 50
It was not the strangest occurrence to ever happen, but it was one of the strangest that had ever happen to Zayin.He stood nearly speechless as Marc, a hotel functionary, sputtered and nearly fell down on his knees trying to explain to Ali how all of this had been an enormous mistake. There had been in Marc’s words, ‘a deep and serious cultural miscommunication that New Hudson Convention Center will work tirelessly to reconcile’. It was ten minutes of this kind of diplomatic nonsense, and Zayin had to admit that he was doing quite well with it. In another life, and with another passport, Marc would have made a great presenter for one of the old State Television channels. More amusing still was, for the first time since knowing him, Ali acted like a prince. This was the greatest shock. Zayin was confident in this assessment—that Ali would be easily brushed aside by his more competent cousins and tossed out of Zhabaiye public life. Cousin Sayid would place him on a farm in the middle
Chapter 49
Since the construction of the New Hudson Convention Center, there had never been a moment quite what Marc Abramov experienced in that Executive Lounge. Since its actual opening some twenty years prior, there had never been so many people silenced all at once with just a few short words. Time seemed to freeze and Marc’s armhairs stood straight on their ends. The VIP…more like the VVIP in fact…was expecting an answer. Why did Marc make the VIP’s brother cry?He clasped his hands and began, “Well—“ Well what? Nothing. The words caught in his throat. Something about the young man’s look—and he barely registered as a man at all—struck him with a sense of absolute terror. The VIP’s gaze encompassed his entire being, utterly and completely, as though he were no more than a fixture of the room. Marc had a sudden, curious idea that there was a sword hanging over his neck. And if he did not speak very, very carefully, that sword would drop and lop his head clean off from his body. There
Chapter 48
Devon sat crosslegged on the floor, squishing his hunter’s hat for comfort. He stared at a spot of carpet, trying to drown out the sounds of the frightening-looking man screaming at Ali. Devon could piece together that the goons all worked for him—some of them were half in costume, others dressed like regular folk. A few wore golden watches. Were they thugs? If so, they weren’t like any gang members that Devon had ever seen, and New Hudson was unfortunately filled with those. These men looked too clean-cut. They didn’t have the casual swagger of the gangs he knew, and other than a little bit of rough-handling on the way to the top-floor lounge, they hadn’t been beaten. Furthermore, gang attacks usually don’t take this long, and by this point they had been sitting in the lounge for twenty minutes. Meanwhile, Ali had begun to shout at the man who kidnapped him. That was the strangest part of all of this--when Ali shouted, the man who kidnapped them listened. And so did his goons. At
Chapter 47
Zayin’s head throbbed. He wished, more than he’d ever wished for anything in his life, that he could wake up back home, in Al-Zhabaiye. He missed his coffee, he missed his 17th story view of the desert, he missed the smell of the cedar paneling of his building’s elevator. All these little things he missed, many of which he had not appreciated before. His head ached until the pain seeped down into his shoulders. So tense were all his muscles that even the slightest movement ached. And it was well to be tense, because his ward, the PRINCE OF AL-ZHABAIYE HIMSELF, chose to behave like a childish idiot. Now Zayin and his security team occupied the hotel’s Executive Lounge, where they had extradited the Prince from a possible attempt on his life. The Prince sat on the couch with his head in his hands, refusing to look at or speak to anyone. One of his security team had thoughtfully prepared a plate of dried fruit and cheese. The plate sat in front of the Prince, untouched. Good. Maybe the
Chapter 46
Far away from the chaos of New Hudson, in the Golden City of Al-Zhabai, King Ibrahim al-Zhabai stood on his private balcony, thinking of a joke. Once, the land that his Kingdom sat upon was a flat cropping of rock surrounded by a lake of sand. No trees, no oil or minerals, or any of the other resources that make a city worth building existed there. A hundred years before King Ibrahim’s time, this useless plot of land was gifted to his great-grandfather, Usman al-Zhabai, Founder of the Kingdom, as the world’s most expensive prank. It was a little known truth. Very few people beyond the deepest circle of the royal family knew this story. Not even foreign websites could publish it, for the instant they did al-Zhabai’s Ministry of Communications used every means at their disposal to take it down. Family lore said that when Founder Usman, talented and overlooked, was finally gifted the land he had worked for all his life. When the empty plot of land was finally revealed, his “benefac
Chapter 45
It began with a push. Once again, Ali was surrounded by an angry crowd, with someone screaming at him in a language that was not his mother tongue. In Al-Zhabai, nobody would dare speak to him in such a way—even the cousins who looked upon him with contempt would never stoop to such behavior. In the moment, Ali felt the most curious sensation—that his soul was leaving his body, watching it from above. Perhaps the shock of the push had killed him, he thought. Curiously, in this dissociated state, he didn’t seem to have any feelings at all, though his body was nearly convulsing in terror. Time seemed to lose its smooth passing. Suddenly everything became terribly slow, as if the convention and everything in it was moving through thick honey. Down from above his own body, Ali gazed as Tamyra, whose face had become a terrible mask of vindictive rage. She lunged at Ali— to snatch Devon’s gift, he thought. But Tamyra’s dexterity had vanished before the heat of her own anger, and whom m
Chapter 44
“Of course it would be you,” Tamyra snarled. “Who else would be so entitled? All I needed to finish my was going to finish my Warriors of the Endless Road collection was that Dashu. And you took it.”Tamyra’s face had flushed past crimson and was on its way to purpose. Her princess wand was quavering in her hand. At the slightest provocation, Devon feared she might actually use it. He held up his hands as though the wand were about to shoot lightning from its glittery points. “Look,” Devon began, “I’m sorry about your collection, but like—how are any of us supposed to know that? We can’t read minds or anything.”“You took it,” Tamyra intoned. Devon’s logic had no place amidst her anger. And there was much to be angry about—between the incident at the entrance, the horrible mess in the Fantasy writer’s panel, and now this. Just over the past two days, Ali and Devon had been a thorn in her slippers. and she had just about enough. “And it’s not enough that you have the nerve to troll in
