Page 26 of Deacon

“Let me put you up on game, Janelle. Contrary to what women believe from the niggas unwilling to commit, it doesn’t take men long to know if they want a woman for a reason or a lifetime.”

The deadpan expression on Chance’s face, matching the unwavering gaze in his eyes, lets me know of the accuracy of his statement. My heart skips a beat at the thought that Deacon is possibly already deeply locked in with me.

Oh my God!

That man has been showing you his crazy without masking his behavior, all while telling you in his actions that he’s for you. You seeking confirmation from another man is crazy work.

Hearing Chance’s retreating steps, I look up to see him vacating my office without another word. Instead of analyzing Deacon’s words any further, I reposition the flowers. Hence, they’re not at risk of sliding off the desk. Once I’m satisfied with the new position, I pick up my phone and send Deacon a message.

Me:

Thank you for bringing a smile to my face.

As if he’s been waiting for my message, three dots pop up on the screen before I can close the thread. Holding my breath, I await Deacon’s reply, curiosity bubbling within me at what he’s going to say.

The Heathen:

Your smile is always my daily goal. I’m happy you got the flowers. Enjoy the rest of your day, Squeak.

Me:

You do the same. *winking emoji*

The Heathen:

By the way, no pressure for a return, but yeah…I love the fuck out of you.

Whoop, there it is. It wasn’t a fluke or mistake. Deacon loves you.

Without another word or objection, I close out of the thread, unable to comment, and my neck vein thumps wildly. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I place my phone face down on the desk and return to what I’d been doing before Chance’s arrival.

An undetermined time later…

Biting my inner cheek, I ponder on how to send a rejection letter to a candidate who didn’t receive the open position they’d interviewed for because they were too qualified. It’s the wildest rejection letter I have done, and I’m never comfortable whenever I have to send one.

“All right, Ms. Popular, you must have that man in a mean chokehold because two deliveries in one day are boss lady moves,” Chance says, entering my office with a pink box with awhite ribbon covering it. “Here you go. Your man got me feeling inadequate, so I need to go call my wife to express my love.”

Laughing at the dejected expression on Chance’s face as he places the box in my hand, while quickly leaving, I smile at Deacon’s kindness. Placing the box on the desk in front of me, I untie the bow before slowly removing the lid. My eyes instantly tighten, and a frown quickly replaces my smile at the contents inside. Sitting on a mound of dirt is a mini coffin with my name engraved, an hourglass with minimal sand, and a toy scythe. My eyes shift right to the note card taped to the dirt with a familiar calligraphy.

Now that you’ve gotten settled and adjusted in my city. I think it's high time for me to—never mind, these contents should tell you what’s coming.

Your Boogeyman

My heartbeat thrashes in my ears, and an unfamiliar, claustrophobic feeling invades me. My breathing becomes raspy, and I lose the ability to blink as my eyes remain stuck on the box. Tremors begin in my body, and I start sweating as time stands still.

“Oh God. Oh God,” I say repeatedly, clutching my chest from the intense pain. “Oh God,” I say with a broken sob despite my inability to shed any tears.

“Did you so—Janelle? Are you all right? What’s going o—oh my God. What in the world is this?”

While I can hear every word coming from the person speaking, I’m lost in a trance, preventing me from communicating. The blood pounds in my ears, my heart thuds inmy chest, and my hands shake. My feet tingle, and my vision is disfigured like I’m looking through a fish-eye lens. I have to get out of here, but I’m stranded because Deacon didn’t let me drive.

“Oh God.” I cry.

“Janelle! I’m calling nine-one-one,” I hear in the distance of my mind.

My eyes feel glued in place while staring at the contents of the box, and the Boogeyman’s words saturate my mind. I can’t move or cry, and my thoughts begin spiraling.

He’s coming, and I’m gonna die like Chelsea. Why? I never told anyone, but he’s determined to kill me too. Oh God. Why? I just want to live. I want to live, God. I’m not ready to die. But the Boogeyman is coming. Nooo.

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