On the couch, drapes down, and surrounded by what seems to be nothing more than furniture and darkness, Damion sits there. His head filt with nothing more than rage and longing for the woman he mistreated and hurt, but he doesn't see it that way, to him, this is a situation he has no fault in, and HE is the one being mistreated. Yes he cheated on her and threatened her with her life, but so what? She should've understood that he has his needs as a man and has to fulfill them. So yes, she was never enough. He runs his right hand from his forehead down to his chin with a long sigh.
Filled with frustration he takes the phone beside him to make a call, but to whom?
"Yo killa, mek yah call suh late inna d night? Sumn gwan?", the rusky voice on the other end spoke. "Nun, mi juss a see if yuh can call Romane and see wah kinda lead him have pon d ute profile weh mi sen him, mi need him gone, and fast", Damion replied as he lit the not first or second but fourth spliff since the sun chose to end it's shift and the moon rose yet another night. "Ahh, bout dat...", the man spoke with hesitance.
"But wah?", Damion responded irritated. "Romane a seh him nuh wah have nothin fi do wid it, him a seh it seem too risky.".
"Suh a everything mi affi guh start do miself, bun up d contract weh Romane sign, tell Rushawn fi kill him, if him refuse tek out d two a dem. By next week mi nuh wah hear Roshane name a call again". He hung up, sailing the phone across the room hitting the wall. Long time mi nuh link Nickanya, he thought to himself, a faint smile on his evil face hidden by his handsome and kind looking mask, just enough to cover his manipulating thoughts, and narcissistic demeanor.
He got up off the couch, facing a short moment of dizziness due to how long he sat on there. He went upstairs, got dressed and made his way to the only other woman foolish enough to think he loves her, he's going to do what he does best, take what he wants, drain every last bit she has left of herself, and then leave her as if she was just a pawn in his life of chess, a game he only wins.
Oshane's POV
Surprisingly Danae hasn't asked about the case as yet, she seemed to be the curious type, well at least it'll be even more entertaining when she sees what's inside. Now standing infront of the two unnecessary large doors, decorated with tiny gold circles around it's perimeter, it's base color being black, with a golden handle waiting to be slid open. I glance down at Danae, we make eye contact, and she seems a bit less nervous than before, good. I hear danae breath out slightly, and then she barges in making her presence known. Her aura had no sign of nervousness, it's the kind that would make you uneasy, self-conscious.
All eyes are now on us, some frightened and some not fazed. Both her and the head of the table eyes are making four, but she stares back, not looking anywhere else but him, he's nowhere near goodlooking, him more look like him deh yah a dry-rotten. She pulls her seat towards her and sat, as the gentleman I am, I pushed it up for her and put the case infront of her.
"Welcome back Mr.Shane, good to see you in Japan again", the head of the table spoke, but I don't respond. Thd elderly man looks to Danae with perverted intruiged eyes. "Buisness wi deh here fah.", Oshane says in an threatening tone. The suitcase was then opened by Oshane and pushed towards the man, all while Danae tries to get a peak at what could possibly be inside. The elements of shock drowning the features of her face as she shoots her head towards Shane with a questioning look.
Danae's POV
The suitcase fast, but gently makes it's way to the other end of the table. The man has a pleased look on his face, the exact opposite of the one on mine. "I have a friend from Russia...says she hears of some fuss between Mikhail Andreyev and someone there, in Jamaica if i'm remembering correctly, she didn't call the name of the person, sadly", he smiled..he seems...amused?
I look up at Oshane and I swear I saw slight fear on that normally permanent relaxed face, but that foreign emotion for him lasted less than a few seconds. "Elaborate on 'fuss'", the word fuss being said between his teeth.
"Heh...", the man scoffed. Still a hothead, the man says a little higher than a whisper, " To sum it up, either you try and sweet talk him, or, try and evacuate your loved one's as fast as possible...".
"But who am I to talk? I'm just an old man spending my life in an empty mansion hoping to see the next day", he flaunts both his hands to the side while he smiles. Oshane looks pissed, no, not the pissed where u would fight someone, the pissed as if to say you've experienced something like this so many times it's annoying you to a point where u want to hold your own head under water and drown yourself while even laughing.
" Alright, i'll ensure to tell my father once we get home. Thank you.", he says with the one of the fakest smiles i've ever seen. I sit there dumbfounded. "Likewise, I hope to see you again?". Oshane hums in response, he taps my shoulder as if to tell me it's time to go.
Once out the room, and at least 11 steps away from the door I start asking him questions. " What was that?", weh yuh mean, he says nonchalantly as if the raisin of a man didn't just tell us we're facing 'war'. How is that even possible? Jamaica? In a war? I laugh to myself.
We ago dead, afta wi nave nothing near bomb, wi only have some coward man we love kill people but fraid fi dem life. Ahhh bwoy.
"My girl yuh nuh hear mi a talk to yuh?", he says to grasp my attention that was slipping to my thoughts. "As mi did a seh, nothin nah guh happen, mi fada probably juss mek wi and him man dem, talk to him.".
"And by talk yuh mean?..", I ask already knowing the answer to my question. "It ago be like a war, but just between us, suh everything ago happen inna Russia, obviously, and some people might dead...", he trails off, looks down at me with a smile. " But a just life.", he laughs.
A wah kinda ediot bwoy dis man.
