It’s not long after the door slams shut behind Celia that my phone buzzes. The time on the kitchen microwave clock says it’s a little past 1 AM, so I can’t imagine who is messaging me. 

Unless it’s Mindy.

The thought causes my stomach to plummet through my asshole. I broke our rule tonight. We promised to be exclusive, yet I gave in to Celia. The toxicity of our relationship clouded any rationale I usually have when it comes to her, and Mindy became out of sight, out of mind.

So, I set the empty vodka glass on the coffee table and grab my phone, but I don’t see a message from her. Instead, it’s from someone I didn’t expect. Furrowing my brows, a glacial cascade goes down my chest and into my boots as I read the message.

Evan: Call me ASAP. Chloe’s in trouble. 

Rushing to the door, I grab my keys, tug on my jacket, and leave like a bat out of hell.

For the entire drive, my stomach churns with anxiety as I think of the scenarios I might find when I get to Chloe’s apartment. My fingers grip the motorcycle handles so tightly that my leather gloves are on the verge of splitting at the knuckles.

When I pull up to her neighborhood, I park around the corner, then jog to the apartment, making sure no one sees me. Evan buzzes me in when I use the intercom, and Chloe is losing her shit in the background. Perhaps it’s the fear in her voice that has me skipping the elevator and jogging up the stairwell two steps at a time. 

Evan was vague about what was going on when I called him, but all it takes is for one of my friends to be in trouble, and I’ll come running. 

Literally. 

The corridor is quiet when I get to the fourth level, with dim wall scones lighting the way. Yet, it feels like a thousand eyes are watching, so I pull the hood of my sweater on. It’s so quiet in the hallway that when I rap my knuckles on the door, it echoes. To my surprise, Jackson pulls it open, causing me to nearly fall forward.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims and exhales a sigh of relief while stepping back. “I thought you were one of the neighbors.” 

“What’s going on?” I ask, but when I step into the apartment, the answers are right there on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. “Fuck.”

“Uh, huh.” Jackson closes the door and begins rubbing his shaved head. 

As the pad of his fingers moves back and forth, it sounds like sandpaper. And just like sandpaper, the scene before me is chafing my ass with all sorts of anxiety. The living room is dark, with only a floor lamp casting light across the hardwood and part of a man’s legs. I’ve never met Chloe’s ex, but I get the feeling I’m staring at Barry’s lifeless body. His eyes are still open and staring at the ceiling, but he’s definitely dead.

“What the fuck happened?” I glance from Evan to Chloe, pacing the living room with a cigarette between her trembling fingers.

“I…” she whispers and stops, her gaze meeting mine. The whites of her eyes are red, mascara is smudged on her bottom lids, and she looks as pale as a full moon. “I killed him. I killed Barry.” 

“Did you guys argue?”

“He came here drunk, and we argued because he has a new girlfriend, so I told him to fuck himself. I… I might have pushed him. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me into the wall. He was in my face, calling me a whore, and saying he wished he had never met me. He kept calling me a whore. So I grabbed that.” She points to a ceramic statue, which is now in pieces on the carpet. “And hit him across the head. Multiple times.”

“I guess I’m not the only one who got fucked by their ex tonight,” I say.

“What?” She furrows her brows.

“Nevermind. Let’s focus on the dead body on the floor.”

But right about now, I wish I wasn’t a witness to a homicide, and what Chloe has done is sinking in. By being here, we’ve become accessories to murder after the fact. Evan should have fucking warned me! 

Chloe’s eyes widen as they scan Barry’s lifeless body, and the cigarette falls out of her hand when she covers her face.

“Oh, God,” she shrieks. “What have I done!”

“Chloe.” Evan pulls her into his chest, muffling her shrill. “It’ll be ok.”

However, I don’t think it will be. This seriously fucks all of us since we’re standing in a damn crime scene, and we’re now accomplices. Whether I like it or not, Chloe has given me no choice but to rope her into the grand plan. 

“Fuck,” I say, and clench and unclench my fists at my sides. “We’re fucked.”

“No, we’re not.” Evan eyes me as if I need to be more sensitive to Chloe’s feelings right now. But fuck her feelings. “This was self-defense. He attacked her. We can explain that to the cops.”

“The cops!?” Jackson scoffs, and I swear his eyeballs are about to shoot out of their sockets like cannonballs. “Are you serious right now, man?”

“Yes, the cops. What else are we supposed to do?” Evan says.

Jackson reels back, shaking his head, and looks at me. “Miguel, you’re with me on this, right, man?”

“Yeah, I hear you. We can’t call the cops,” I say.

Evan releases Chloe and steps towards us. “What the hell are the two of you talking about! A man just died. It was an accident. We can’t not call the cops.”

“My dude…” Jackson shakes his head. “How’s it going to look when they arrive and four people are standing around one body.”

“Suspicious as fuck, that’s what!” I exclaim.

Chloe clears her throat while dragging her hands down her face. It smears her makeup even more, but she speaks, “They’re right.”

“What?” Evan darts his attention to her. “Chloe. You guys can’t be serious. What’s the alternative?”

“We get rid of the body,” I say and glance around the living room for anything we can use. “We’ll roll Barry up in the rug, and we’ll need duct tape—”

“You can’t be fucking serious!?” Evan shouts, and I bark at him.

“Keep your damn voice down!”

“My dude,” Jackson cuts in. “We cannot call the cops, so if you’re just gonna stand around losing your shit, I suggest you leave.”

“Chloe, you should leave too,” I say. “In fact, we all need alibis.” 

She sniffles.“Where am I supposed to go?” 

“Alma and Angie are having a sleepover.” Jackson whips out his phone. “Go there. I’ll let Alma know that if anyone asks, you’ve been there with them, and Evan, go somewhere people can see you.”

“This is fucking nuts!” Evan barks.

“No, it’s just the only option,” Jackson retorts. 

“No, it’s not.”

“Evan!” Jackson balls his fists. “I’m a Black man. I’ll get a death sentence, whereas you’d probably do ten years with early parole. So we are not calling the cops!”

Evan scoffs, “Oh, don’t give me that race shit. This is about what is right and wrong, not skin color.”

But I’ve reached my limit of patience with the guy. If the Sisters catch wind of this or Barry’s death somehow traces back to them, we’re all fucked harder than a hooker in the back seat of a limousine. So, I grab Evan’s shirt collar and growl in his face, “Things are going on that are bigger than your precious feelings right now. We cannot get fucking caught with a dead body, do you hear me? And Jackson is right.”

“Get your hands off me!” Evan shoves my chest. “I don’t recognize either of you right now. This isn’t right.”

“Evan, you’ve gotta understand,” Jackson sighs. “We’re already deep in some shit, and this will only make it worse if cops get involved.”

“What do you mean?” Evan straightens his posture and narrows his eyes at us. “What kind of shit.”

“It’s better you don’t know.” Jackson shakes his head.

“Fuck, you guys!” Evan snarls, but the look in his eyes says he’s more hurt than angry. “We’re supposed to be best friends, but you’re keeping secrets and doing asinine shit like covering up a murder. Not to mention you just called me racist!” 

Jackson reels back. “I did not call you racist.”

“Evan,” I groan and facepalm myself. “Do you want Chloe to go to jail?”

“No.”

“Then do what we say, and leave. You don’t have to be part of this, but we’re sure as hell not letting Chloe get charged with murder, and you’re naive as hell if you think they’ll slap her knuckles with a warning or that we won’t be charged as accomplices. A man is dead. Dead. And she did it.”

“It was self-defense,” he says, prompting Jackson to release a deep, irritated breath as he rubs his temples. 

“You need to understand that Chloe is a woman who cheated on her spouse and is now going through a rough divorce where she owes him money. Do you really think anyone will believe this was self-defense? Someone who cheated? Come on, Evan. Be smart.”

“Listen to them,” Chloe says, with a duffle bag in hand, and I didn’t even realize she had left the room to pack her clothes. “Look at me, Evan. I can’t go to jail. I’m the kind of person who would die in there, so if you care for me, you’ll walk away and pretend you were never here. I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

“Chloe, no…”

“Just walk away, Evan,” she says and tugs on her jacket. 

Chloe knows the only way to deal with Barry’s body is to get rid of it. After shoving on a pair of sneakers, she makes her way to the door and looks back at us. Her eyes are still red and smeared with makeup. 

“I’m sorry for all of this, but thankful you guys have my back.”

“Guess I have no choice.” Evan shakes his head. “I’m out of here.”

When the door closes behind him, Jackson and I are left in the silence of death as we stand in the living room with Barry’s ghostly white face staring at the ceiling. A shiver crawls up my spine like claws digging into my skin. Murder always has an invisible stench that clings to the atmosphere like an atomic cloud. It permeates everything with a stamp declaring a crime was committed. 

This doesn’t feel the same as when I thwacked my step-father over the head or when I shot those pedophiles in the warehouse. Despite Chloe’s divorce battle with him, Barry was an innocent man. A douchebag asshole but innocent.

“Alright…” I clap and blow out a breath to clear my head. “First things first, we gotta suit up. I have coveralls and gloves at my mom's house.”

“Won’t it look suspicious if we leave here with this rug in hazmat suits?”

“No. These coveralls look like something a handyman would use. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“Right. So then, what’s the plan?”

“Wait here while I grab that stuff. Don’t touch anything.”

Jackson nods while blowing out a breath with hands on his hips. “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

An hour later, I return to the apartment with everything we need, including cleaning chemicals. We can’t leave a single trace of evidence that any of us were here, aside from Chloe. 

After we’re done wiping the place down, we gather the garbage, including the broken ceramic statue, and shove them into bags. It’s still dark out, so we’re able to sneak in and out of the building to toss the items into the back of Jackson’s truck without being seen. Lastly, we roll Barry’s body up in the area rug for our final haul.

Crouching, I say, “Jacks, you grab that side of the rug, and I’ll grab this side. We gotta duct tape the ends to make sure nothing is sticking out.”

“Got it.”

We both crouch to grip the opposite ends, but Jackson pauses, his gaze meeting mine. 

“Do we need to worry about Evan?”

“I hope not.”

“Me too…” He nods. “But you don’t think he’ll rat on us, right?”

Sighing deeply, I say, “I guess time will tell.”

Our attention goes back to rolling up Barry like a snug little burrito, but I can’t help but think about Evan. He’s a great friend, but I don’t know if he can keep a secret like this. Especially after arguing over what is right and wrong. So we might have a problem. 

I hope I’m wrong.

But my gut is usually right.

However, that’s a worry for later.

The more immediate one is getting Barry’s body out of here.