Sebastian was still skeptical. “Everyone has a doppelganger. You’ve just found yours.”
“I hear you, but being in this house, this room, I can feel something, some type of connection. I can’t explain it.” I flipped the page and saw a picture of Roman and the woman at his high school graduation. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if this woman was my mom and Roman was my brother?”
“Rio, are you on drugs or what? You need to hurry up and get the hell outta there before you get caught.”
“You’re right.” I stood up from the sofa. “I’m just gonna be a little bit nosier, and then I’ll get out of here.”
I went back into Roman’s room and opened the top drawer of his dresser to snoop around. In among his socks and underwear there were a few condoms, a couple hundred-dollar bills, and a shiny .44. I pushed aside a pile of socks and found an envelope that was kind of yellow from age. I pulled a paper out of the envelope and was rendered speechless.
“Rio, you still there?” Sebastian asked.
“This can’t be true. Is this shit for real?” I said. “Sebastian, I think my life is officially over.”
“What? What’s going on?”
“Me and him have the same birthdate,” I mumbled.
“Get the fuck out. How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know, but it says it right here in black and white on his birth certificate. Roman Marcus Johnson, date of birth February eighteenth, 1993. Mother, Margaret Wilma Johnson. No father is listed.”
I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Shit! Rio, are you okay?”
“No,” I said on the verge of tears. “Sebastian, I’ll call you later.” I didn’t wait for an answer before I hung up. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Feeling too numb to think straight, I closed the drawer and turned to leave. On my way out, I slipped the birth certificate in the pocket of my hoodie—for what reason, I wasn’t sure.
“Rio, you need a drink or several.” I took one last look around the little living room and then left the house, nearly bumping into a woman who was heading up the walkway.
“Hey, Rome.” She stopped right in front of me, blocking my path. “Uh, hey, babe.”
I kept my head down. “Uh, hi.”
“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” She frowned, touching my purple ’fro. To be that bold, she had to be the infamous Kandace.
“Dyed it,” I said.
“I see. But why?” Her lip curled, and she looked at me as if I had done something wrong.
I was instinctively about to snap my neck and ask the bitch what the hell her problem was and tell her that I probably paid more for this dye job than she had paid for her entire outfit, but then I remembered who I was supposed to be. “I lost a bet.” I flipped the hood over my head and went to walk past.
“Well, maybe it’s not so bad. In fact, I think you look cute.” She grabbed my arm and turned my body toward her. “Maybe I’ll dye my hair purple too.”
“That’d be nice,” I replied, trying to step around her.
“Hey, where you going? I came over here to check on how your mother’s doing and to see if there’s anything I can do for you before I go to work.”
Her hand caressing my crotch made me jump back. “Whoa.”
She frowned again. “Roman, what is wrong with you?”
“Nothin’. I got a lot on my mind with my moms in the hospital is all.” I tried to play it off with what I hoped was a thug effect. “I’ll holla at ya later.”
“Damn. All right, but can a sista at least get a kiss before you leave?” She stepped closer and put her arms around my neck, puckering her lips in anticipation.
I swallowed hard. You can do this, Rio. It’s just a kiss. Pretend it’s Sebastian, I told myself as I closed my eyes. I leaned toward her, but dammit, I just couldn’t do it.
“What the hell is going on with you?” she asked when I pulled away from her. “Are you cheating on me?”
“No, no, I ate some garlic knots and my breath is kickin’. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it to you, for real,” I said, then brushed past her and rushed to the street.
“Roman!” she called after me.
“I’ll holla!” I waved as I sprinted around the corner to my car. At that point I got in the car feeling a wave of uncertainty and anxiousness. I hated that feeling, and the only thing I could think of to get rid of it was a very expensive bottle of tequila.
KD
30
I opened my eyes just as we passed by the WELCOME TO LOUISIANA sign. It had been a little over a week since the disappearance of the nigger sheriff, and things had been surprisingly quiet. Roscoe had stopped by, along with a couple of his deputies, to tell us the news and ask if we knew anything about it. I suspected old Roscoe was afraid that if he came alone, his ass might be the next to disappear. Of course, we told him we didn’t know nothing. Tyler and I both had strong alibis, with him on duty there in El Paso and me on the ranch with forty of my faithful employees as witnesses. So, with that behind me, it was time to move to the next phase of my plans.
“You remember how to get to where we’re going?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.” Patrick took the exit, then turned down an obscure road. He took his time as he maneuvered the car through the thick trees and brush along the way.
We seemed to be far away from civilization, until finally,
