The Viper and his Majesty by Tiana Laveen

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Passing the Collection Plate

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been to church.

His abuela was Roman Catholic, as was most of his family, but this was different from what he recalled as a child. Much different.

Viper looked around, hands on knees. Today, he’d dressed in all black slacks, shirt, and Givenchy dress shoes, along with a large diamond crucifix around his neck. He and Mr. Earl sat in the second pew of the place of worship, his head bowed while Reverend Miller cradled his bright red Bible and spoke of duplicity and disobedience.

“Genesis 3:1 says, ‘Now the serpent was craftier than any other beast of the field that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden?’”

Sweat gathered at Viper’s temple. It was hot inside the sanctuary, yet he was at peace. Just like when he’d entered Mr. Earl’s home the day prior. Just yesterday, the old man had been trying to get his mail into the house, and as he’d ridden past him on his motorcycle, he’d paused to help him gather his letters and packages. The older man had invited him inside where he’d immediately caught the distinct aroma of sautéing beans and onions, cornbread, and that ‘old people’ scent that transcended time. There was comfort in that, reminding him of his abuela, gone so long ago…

What began as a common courtesy ended up with the two of them talking at a long dining room table adorned with a white lace runner, and surrounded by gaudy gilded frame art, mostly of a White Jesus and his disciples. Mr. Earl asked if he was religious. Viper said, ‘Sometimes.’ And that was the honest answer. He believed in God. He believed what his abuela had taught him as a child when she’d take him, Diego, and his cousins to her church, but he was not convinced that everything occurred in the manner it was written. Regardless, he respected the older man’s views, but what he really clung to was this old man’s love for a woman who no longer walked the Earth. He still had faith in what he could not see or hear.

Mr. Earl believed his wife, Arnette, was still in that house. Perhaps she was. He’d met her once. She’d brought him a delicious homemade pie, and then, just like that, she was gone.

Now here Viper sat, in a church. The minister went on, and he listened to the gifted orator with the silver tongue speak, even as he slipped his phone from his pocket to read the new text from Jaguar…

I need to speak to you privately. There’s something we need to discuss…

Jag had been out and back in Miami for two weeks. In that time, Viper had greeted the man with cigars, coffee, and alcohol. As the others had done, he’d placed money in his palm and embraced him. He attended a huge party in Jag’s honor and made no moves to engage in heavy discussions. But the time had come for deeper interaction. A High Crown King meeting.

Viper placed the phone back in his pocket as the church members kept on humming and encouraging the minister to continue speaking with head nods, utterances of understanding, and affirmation. Black churches intrigued him. He’d been to two in the last year, for funerals of his homeboys. Yes, though not the norm, there were Black Latin Kings as well, and some of them had passed on, just like most gangsters in the world.

“We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’ But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil…’”

He looked over at Mr. Earl, who was nodding in agreement, his eyes closed as he rocked back and forth to a song only he could hear. Dark brown, heavily veined hands clenched one another as he prayed. Yesterday, they’d been surrounded by ghosts. In that old man’s house, while sitting at the dining room table with the dim lights, and the paintings of the Savior, he’d said to him while they drank beer, “My son used to come with me to church. He grown. Moved on now. Doin’ his own thang… don’t come no more. I go by myself.”

Viper had taken a sip of ice-cold beer from his bottle. All was quiet around them, with only the rattle of an old icebox in the garage interrupting their conversation. And in that moment of silence, he’d said, “I’ll go with you.”

So this morning he drove to the old man’s house in his Bugatti, and Mr. Earl’s eyes lit up like headlights. He helped him inside, and they rode in style to that overpacked church full of Black and brown faces, surrounded by so many crowns: kinky curls, ebony braids, silky black, red, and blond tresses, oversized hats adorned with feathers and fruit, and shiny twists. The place was alive with the flavor of heaven and the warnings of hell. Viper could feel strange yet soothing vibrations throughout his entire body as the choir sang about better days to come, and how God would never turn their back on them. The organ player, the pianist, the guitar players, and drummers were covered in the blood of Christ as their talented fingers helped usher the soulful melodies from the mouths of faithful women and men draped in thick robes. All for promises of eternal life and walking streets paved in gold. Back and forth the choir swayed, a series of bodies in sync. The place was on fire with spirits. A fast seduction of epic, poignant proportions. Swaying… Swaying… Swaying…

And he sat there, remembering the rosary swinging back and forth in that little room while he was cowered in the corner, full of fear and regret. Soaked to the bone from the rain and told by his big brother to be a man, to never cry. Jesus was his big brother, too. Perhaps, God had been waving that rosary to get his attention? Maybe it had been a visit from the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit? Maybe God himself had been trying to hypnotize him before it was too late…

“…So, when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate…”

Golden apples. Where was Adam? Hiding in the darkness of the bush, while I was coiled on the branch, trying to talk her out of it. This can’t be true…

His mind began to torture him with the dream he couldn’t let go. It had felt so real. An Eve of his own, with the face of the woman he loved. The Viper and his Majesty. Then, the human man, a mere mortal, who hadn’t earned her love or her keep, stole her away…

He was dragged out of his deliberations by an uproar of applause, so he joined in the clapping. When service was over, and Mr. Earl had introduced him to several people, during which time he had to shake hands and hug people he didn’t know much to his dismay, they finally left.

“How are you and that young lady gettin’ along?” Mr. Earl asked after a bout of silence during the ride back. “That pretty girl with the nice boy that lives ‘cross from you.” The man had a gleam in his eyes.

“We’re getting married.”

That earned a smile from Mr. Earl.

“That’s fine… That’s good. That’s a beautiful thing.”

“Majesty told me that you tried to encourage her to go out with me.”

“Mmm hmm.” He looked out the passenger window. “I did.”

“Why’d you do that?”

The man took a while to respond, as if gathering his thoughts. “’Cause I don’t believe God put a man like you ’round a woman like that for no reason. I seen how you looked at her. I know she’s a pretty lady, but you looked at her like there was more to it than that. I saw how ya handled her boy… How you’d play ball with him in the yard. How ya’d sit on the porch wit’ him, drinking water ’nd such, talking and reading. I then seen you bring those dogs over for him to play with in his yard, too. And you even let him walk one every now and again… Then slide him some bread.”

“You’re observant.” Viper wasn’t surprised.

“Naw. I’m just bored and nosey.” They both burst out laughing. “You two remind me of my wife and me. I was unsophisticated. Too dark. I’d already been married once before and had a son. Didn’t make enough money. Her parents didn’t like me.”

“Hmm, you must’ve been a fly on the wall at her mother’s house the other day.” Viper chuckled.

“I take it you didn’t get a standing ovation from her?”

“Not at all. After a confrontation and words were exchanged, I got shown the door.”

Mr. Earl shook his head, as if that were a true pity.

“What about your folks? Do they like ’er?”

“My mother’s only concern is that Majesty doesn’t know how to cook Cuban food, and she wants me to give her grandchildren and hopes we will take care of that. Both issues are quite serious to her, and my father’s worried that I will end up just like him.” He shrugged. “But yeah, they like her.”

“Well, good cookin’ can be taught. She’s got a grandson comin’ through marriage which is sometimes better than blood, and you decide who you become and whose footsteps to follow. You ain’t said nothin’ that can’t be addressed.” Viper couldn’t agree more. “I seen you got someone diggin’ ’round in your backyard.”

“Yes, I’m putting in a pool.”

“That’s nice. Are you and Majesty planning to move away after the wedding?” Even though the old man was smiling, there was something in his tone that let Viper know he didn’t want that.

“No. Actually, we worked out a plan where she and Troy will move into my house, since it’s the bigger of the two, and I’m going to pay off her property, since she has a rent to own contract, and then we’re going to rent it to a friend of mine. Marie. She’ll stay there with her daughter and run her catering business out of it. She’s like a second mother to me.”

“That’s nice! Sounds like y’all got it all planned.”

He pulled into Mr. Earl’s driveway and helped the man out of the car. Holding onto his arm, he noticed the man seemed short of breath as they made their way towards his front porch.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, just tired.” He smiled wistfully. They entered the house and the alarm went off. Viper followed him inside to the kitchen after he’d punched in the code, to make sure he was truly okay. Viper washed his hands, opened a cabinet, and pulled out two glasses. Then, he grabbed a fistful of ice from the freezer and poured them both glasses of water. Mr. Earl sat at that kitchen table, looking aimlessly towards the window. Outside was a big lemon tree.

“Arnette planted that lemon tree.” He smacked his lips then drank some water. “You like lemons?”

“Who doesn’t like lemons?” Viper grinned.

“She’d take the lemons off, bring ’em in the house, wash ’em, and there would be fresh lemons in the tea, on the baked chicken and fish, lemonade, lemon pie, lemon cake, lemon puddin’, and lemon in the water for weeks on end. And I loved it.” His tone held so much nostalgia. “Dominic, get that thang outta there for me.” He waved towards a drawer by the sink. “It’s a tin box.”

Viper got to his feet and opened the drawer. Inside was an old Bible, a gun, and a tin box. He placed the box before Mr. Earl, then sat back down. The old man opened it and removed a pipe and some tobacco.

“People are like lemons,” he finally said after getting situated. The room began to fill with smoke. “See, you got some that get picked too early, forced to serve up themselves too fast, and it ruins they whole life ’cause see, the person pickin’ ’em did it before they was ripe. A boy forced to be a man, a girl forced to be a grown woman, way too soon. Then, you got some folks who wait too late to pick ’em, baby ’em, coddle ’em, and the lemon can’t make it on their own, ’cause they been hangin’ on that tree all that time, wasting their life away, surrounded by all those other lemons who don’t make ’em stand up on their own. Some lemons are sweeter than others, while others are just bitter, and ain’t no way to make ’em taste good. You offer sugar or a good recipe, and they say, naw’ll.” His nose wrinkled as he shook his head. “They’re happy bein’ miserable.

“Some lemons are bruised but make the best lemonade if just given the chance, but something about lemons, that people don’t understand, is they were all created with purpose. Them lemons got Vitamin C, ’specially in the skin we discard. That skin can be turned into zest… Zest for life. They don’t understand that they’re not just lemons, they’re doctors too, out here curing all sorts of ailments. People call cars that don’t work right ‘lemons.’ But that ain’t fair, ’cause lemons are bright and cheery. They give zing to a dull dinner, and they’ve been used since the dawn of time for medicinal purposes…” The man took a puff of his pipe, then crossed his legs like he was the host of Masterpiece Theater. “I done lost my damn train of thought…” He sat there for a bit, working his brain.

“You were talking about the lemons having zing. You were using lemons as a metaphor for me, trying to teach me some sort of lesson, right?”

“Shiiiiid! I ain’t tryna teach you no lesson.”

“Oh, really? Well, damn… I was enjoying it. I was into it. I was waiting for the whole, ‘Son, life is like a tree of lemons… You never know what you’re going to pick.’”

“Sorry to let you down, but I was looking at that tree,” he pointed to the window, “and thought of my Arnette. Not only did she plant it, but we had got into it ’bout me not picking up my clothes in the laundry room. She said she married a lemon of a husband, then took it back ’cause she said actually lemons is good, and I didn’t deserve such a nice title. Then she flipped it around again and said, no, actually lemons can be bad, so she gave it back to me and I had to sit and hear the same silly shit I’m tellin’ you right now.”

Viper burst out laughing, and Mr. Earl was changing colors as he succumbed to mirth, too. After they’d settled down, he drew serious.

“When y’all tying the knot?”

“Next year. Haven’t set an exact date, but it’ll be in the summer.”

“Can I come? I’d sure like to be invited. If ya don’t mind.”

Viper took a sip of his water and leaned forward.

“If you can’t come, nobody can come.”

His face split with an exultant beam. They continued to talk for a while, during which a pair of binoculars lying on the counter caught Viper’s eyes. I wonder if he’s a bird watcher? I doubt it, but he’s definitely the curious kind. I bet Mr. Earl sees all sorts of things that happen around here… all kinds of shit.

The afternoon wore on in friendly interaction, and Viper didn’t mind that his plans for the day had gone out the window.

“Did I ever tell you the story about this big, beautiful Asian woman I used to sock it to before I met Arnette?”

“Nah.” Viper smirked, then shook his head. “I would’ve remembered that.”

“Boy, get up and grab us some beers!” Viper hopped up, excited to hear the sordid details of a sailor who’d traveled all over the world. “And grab that bag of pretzels on the counter, too. It’s story time. I know it’s the day of the Sabbath, Lord forgive me, but Viper, this lady, Li Xiu Ying, could suck the skin off a cucumber wit’ her bare mouth and wrap that monkey ’round some sausage so tight, she’d have you givin’ her all yo money. So much so, she should’ve changed her name to Ching Ching!”

Mama sucked herteeth as she sauntered along the sidewalk in flat gold sandals, her purple maxi-dress blowing in the slight breeze. Atop her head was a lavender turban, and on her ears large gold earrings. She’d painted her nails a pale pink, and smelled like expensive perfume and disappointment.

“How long?” Majesty asked, walking at her side.

“Four and a half months.”

“When will the divorce be final?”

“He just filed. It was a separation at first. I’m not sure.”

They took a few more steps in silence.

“Do you have a good attorney?”

“Of course. That pickle-headed motherfucker is going to pay me my got damn money, and I’m not signing a damn thing until this is ironed out and settled.” Mama pursed her lips, venom, rage, and sadness emanating from her. Funny how the real person emerged when she was vexed. “Left me for a twenty-four-year-old child. The bitch didn’t know him for more than a month, Majesty. All she saw were dollar signs. For the record, his penis stays soft half the time, and he doesn’t want any children.”

“Mama, I didn’t really need to know that.”

“Well, it’s important because he didn’t have any of his own during his first two marriages.”

“Didn’t want any children?”

“Right. She told him she wants to have his kids and allegedly he agreed to it.” Mama rolled her eyes. “She’ll find out… His old, rotten ass will trade her in for a younger model in a few years, too, and if she does happen to fall pregnant by an old man with arthritis like him, the child will cry when it rains because their knees hurt!”

Majesty swallowed a laugh and kept on walking.

“Mama, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but trust me, he did you a favor. If Mr. Gerald could do something like this to you without a second thought, he’s proven he isn’t worth your time.”

Mama’s lower lip twitched. In truth, the woman didn’t care about the man’s integrity. She just wanted to have a rich husband, even if it meant being in a loveless marriage. She hung her hat on that status, which allowed her to rub elbows with some local elite. Mama’s identity was wrapped around other people and however she presented herself to be, and nobody really knew the real person beneath the façade.

“I’m not going to waiver in my lifestyle, I tell you that. I’ve been a bit more frugal, if you will, with the money while this is being straightened out, but I should keep the same standard of living I had before he left. I was that bastard’s backbone for practically all his business ventures. It was my idea to change his emblem from that stupid siren to a sailboat! I’m the one who hired people for his Toronto office! I’m the one…” And on and on she went.

“Mama, who are you?”

The woman stopped walking, appearing genuinely confused by the question.

“What are you talking about, Majesty?” She placed her hand on her hip.

“I’m asking who are you as a woman, Mama? If I were to remove the glitz, the money, the makeup, who are you underneath it all? Who is the real Josephine?”

“The same woman you’ve known your entire life.”

“But see, that’s just the thing. You gave birth to me, and I still don’t know who you are outside of your exes, including my own father, and outside of you striving for financial security.”

“That’s not true, Majesty.”

“It is true. I ask you your favorite color, and you joke and say, ‘money green.’ I ask you where your dream vacation is, and you say, ‘Sugar Daddy Island.’” Mama averted her gaze. “I know what you like to do only in the context of social climbing and financial stability. I don’t know who you are on the inside. Where it counts.” Majesty waited for her mother to protest. Deny. Deflect. Lash out. Move the goal line and not fight fair.

But much to her surprise, the woman started blinking back tears.

In that single, solitary moment, Majesty pushed her anger and resentment aside and embraced the woman who’d given her life with all the strength she could muster.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Mama uttered, the heat from her breath brushing her shoulder.

Mama hugged her back loosely at first, then tighter, and squeezed.

And she cried. And cried.

Majesty swallowed past a lump in her throat. She wasn’t used to dealing with this side of her mother. Only twice she’d seen her cry, once when her own mother had died, but Majesty didn’t know her maternal grandmother to feel any sort of way about the death as a young girl. Another time, she’d never disclosed the reason but Majesty had noticed the swollen, red eyes and sad demeanor. Still, she’d never witnessed the pure, raw emotion from Mama, who proudly wore her strong Black woman disguise.

When Majesty released her, she began to cry, too. Mama’s tear-streaked face looked so pitiful. She almost jumped when the woman took hold of her hand, a gesture she rarely made. They began to walk together. Step by step.

“I wish I had brought my cigarettes.” Mama smiled weakly. “What would you like to know, baby?”

Majesty slid her hand into her capri jeans pocket and pondered the question. She won’t answer me truthfully. Right now, she may want to, but she won’t… It’ll break her. I think how Viper spoke to her got to her, too. She’s been acting peculiar ever since. On top of it, she asked me how he was doing today. Odd.

“What are you thinking about?” Mama’s naturally sultry voice broke into her thoughts.

“How you want to be real with me. Maybe. But you can’t. Asking you a question that goes beyond surface level may not get me anything other than frustration.”

“You might be right. You might be wrong. You don’t know me, remember?” They paused walking, and Mama had a strange look in her eyes. Broken. Sad. It gave her chills, reminding her a little of the way Viper had been one evening when they were lying together naked on the couch, and he related a prison tale about a friend of his being branded with a hot piece of steel against his will. Yeah… that was the same damn look.

“I’ll start from the top.” Mama cleared her throat as they began to walk again. “I was born in Miami, Florida, as you know. My mother was verbally and physically abusive. That’s not something I discussed with you.”

“Why not? Shame?”

“No. I just wanted to forget about it. Not discussing it meant, on some level, that it never really happened. My Daddy didn’t want me. He had enough children, he said. I was the middle child of seven. The three after me were from my mother’s second husband. Two different fathers. Five girls. Two boys.” She stopped to pick up a little weed that was pretending to be a white flower, then twirled it in her hand as they resumed their jaunt. “I watched my mother struggle to get money. She resented all the mouths she had to feed, as if it were somehow our fault.” She let out a broken laugh, drowning in a well of sadness. “I left her home in the eighth grade to go live with my grandmother, Tabitha.”

“You told me a little about Tabitha.”

“Yes. That was my mother’s mother. Things had gotten too bad to stay with Mama. She was a loose cannon and wouldn’t stop hitting us, especially me and my two oldest sisters. While living with my grandmother, I found out some things that a girl my age shouldn’t have been thinking about. She would always tell me how pretty I was… that I was prettier than my sisters, and I could use this to my advantage. She acted like she loved me. Maybe she thought she did.” Mama shrugged. “Men who were way too old to mess with a girl my age would pay my grandmother to spend a little time with me.” Majesty’s heart dropped in her gut. “At first, I was confused… shocked.

“It was never sex, let me make that clear… but I had to let ’em kiss me. Hold me. Touch ’em. That’s when I first learned the art of leaving my own body, you know? I could do these things and be okay… I told myself it was okay because technically, I was still a virgin. I justified it in my mind. Somehow, I made it work. The years passed, and I took over the reins of my own destiny. It was finally me who was in control. No one was going to get paid off the work I put in, and the time I spent doing it, except for me. I would never let anyone use me again. No one wanted me around unless it was to use me in some way, Majesty.”

“Did you ever talk to your mother about what was going on at your grandmother’s house?”

Mama shook her head. “No. My mother was no better. It would’ve been like tellin’ Satan what one of his awful demons had done. Useless. She didn’t want me anyway except to help watch the younger children, clean, and be her punching bag because of her own poor choices. My grandmother never saw herself as a pimp, but she was. Yes, she kept a roof over my head, made sure I finished high school, let me wear pretty dresses and I didn’t want for anything, but I found out later she’d done the same thing to my mother and her sister.”

“What about your father? I know you said he didn’t want children, but were you still in communication with him?”

“Now, that’s an interesting story.” Mama plucked a few of the little petals off the weed. “I found out when I was seventeen that my father had died. His eldest son told me that man wasn’t my dad though, and rather, it was a man named Samuel. He said my mama had cheated, and that’s why the man I thought was my father didn’t want anything to do with me. Long story short, I found out this Samuel guy had moved to New Jersey from Florida and hadn’t been here in years. I don’t remember how I got his number, but I did, and he talked to me on the phone.

“We decided to exchange pictures. So, I sent him a photo of me, and he sent me one of him. Splitting image.” Mama smiled proudly. “I looked just like him, Majesty. Mama had to have known. Maybe that’s why she hated me. She treated me the worst outta everyone. I never confirmed it, but I believe her first husband left her over me. Anyway, Samuel was a very nice man. Godly. Polite. He didn’t know I existed, but he said he’d known my mother around the time I was conceived, and they had had a short relationship back then. He’d admitted he had a girlfriend at the time of their encounter, but they’d been on again, off again, so he had his fling with my mama during that off cycle. So, we talked some more, and he made plans to come visit me.”

“How’d the visit go?”

Mama plucked the rest of the petals off that poor little limp stem, then tossed it aside.

“We met one time, Majesty, and I will never forget how complete I felt. Like I had finally found some peace. And my missing piece of the puzzle. He told his family about me, upfront about the whole thing. He had no other children but was married. He told me what college he’d attended, all sorts of things. We agreed that we could move forward and build a father-daughter relationship. I was planning to visit him three months later. He was going to introduce me to his wife, his brothers and sisters, his mother, the whole nine, and we were going to talk about me moving to Jersey and going to school. But it never happened…”

“Why not? He got cold feet?”

An expression of total devastation came over Mama’s face.

“Someone shot him. Gunned him down in front of the barbershop he owned. Somebody shot ’nd killed my daddy.” At that moment, Majesty saw her son in her mother’s eyes, and the vision broke her down, snatched and ripped at her core. “I had tasted love, Majesty. I had tasted what it felt like for someone to be excited that I existed. Not so they could get something out of me, but so I could get the love I deserved. And it was yanked away just as fast as I’d been served.” The woman snapped her fingers. “It was such a cruel thing. Made me question God’s existence. I didn’t have a relationship with my mother. Now, both of my fathers were dead. My brothers and sisters and I didn’t always have the best communication and relationships, and on top of it, I had no money. I couldn’t go back and live with Grandma; she was senile and about to be put in a home. So now, here I was, an orphan as far as I was concerned. I was homeless.”

“What did you do to get out of this jam?”

“I fell back on what my grandmother taught me. My looks got me what I needed, and I became focused on using them to get ahead. It worked. When you add fucking to the mix, true blue dirty, grimy sex, that’s where the money is… That’s where your soul is lost. And after a while, I was numb. I met your father a couple years into it and thought he would be my ticket to a normal life. He wasn’t. He was just as fucked up as me. I tried over and over again, meeting different men that couldn’t give me what I needed in one way, or another. I was determined not to be broke. Not to struggle. I wanted to find a man like my daddy… my real daddy. But God must’ve broken the mold. Deep down, I didn’t really think I deserved someone like my father though, Majesty. I deserved filth. Disillusionment.

“Married dicks and no calls back the next day. I deserved cum stains on my shirts. Stacks of money flung all over my hotel room. The stench of cheap spilled wine and a frantic wife callin’ me in the middle of the night asking for the whereabouts of her husband. I deserved threesomes with church women while their minister husbands fucked me too or sat back and watched their lesbian wives eat my snatch. I deserved men that wanted to be pegged and walked on with my 6-inch heels, all over their damn body until they bled.

“So, that’s who I am, Majesty. A numb woman who has spent years trying to survive by spreadin’ her legs and spreadin’ lies. I knew you were the child who would eventually figure it all out.” Majesty grabbed her mother’s hand and squeezed it. Mama reached up to cradle her cheek with the other hand and smiled. The sun beamed on her beautiful face and hopefully, warmed her cold heart. “After a while, I never cared about being loved by anyone anymore, honey. I figured love is overrated. Being taken care of is where it’s at. Tina Turner was right, baby. ‘What’s love got to do with it?’ It hurts. Tears you apart. I loved my daddy. I loved your father. They’re the only two men I loved, actually, and both of ’em broke my heart. One died on me; the other was simply a turnip I couldn’t get blood from. Yeah, Majesty… take it from me. Love is a fairytale, baby. It’s too damn expensive. Loving someone cost me too damn much. And no matter how much money I have, honey, even if I had all the jewels, gold and diamonds in the world, it became crystal clear that I just couldn’t afford it…”