by Cole Hart
Sixteen days later, she opened her eyes. The IV needle was aggravating as hell. She’d been laid up nearly a month in a gown that exposed her entire backside. Summer had lost more weight; she was probably weighing ninety-five pounds soaking wet. There wasn’t a doubt she wouldn’t gain it back. She knew she had to in order to move how she wanted to.
The first face that came into her blurry vision was Bookie’s. Her heart fluttered, but she didn’t show any emotions. She felt his hand caress the side of her face as he stared into her eyes. She looked on blankly, forcing herself to appear calm. His eyes turned into a cold panic. He grabbed her hand and tried hard to force a smile.
“How you feelin’?” he asked.
She stared silently, directly into his eyes. Then she looked around the hospital room. There was a doctor at her side and an assistant in a white coat and holding a clipboard. She slowly turned her head to the other side and squinted at the sight of the beautiful blue skies showing through the open window blinds.
The doctor moved closer and removed a small penlight from his top jacket pocket. When he flashed it into each of her eyes to see if she was completely aware, she began laughing uncontrollably and shaking her head side to side as if something was seriously wrong with her. She tried sitting up, but the doctors wouldn’t let her.
“I got a meeting to go to,” she finally whispered, her throat scratchy.
Bookie grabbed both of her shoulders, and she felt his powerful hands squeezing her.
“What’s wrong with you, Summer?” he asked, a lump forming in his throat.
Summer raised her eyebrows and stretched her eyes wide open, creating a very silly-looking expression across her face. The doctor separated Bookie from Summer and pulled him to the side.
“Let us examine her alone, sir,” he said with a confident hand resting on Bookie’s shoulder. “We don’t really know her condition.”
Bookie stared at the doctor. Sweat beaded upon his forehead, and he started to grind his teeth. He turned around to look at Summer. She was his heart, his fiancée, his soul. Now she acted as if she didn’t know him at all.
“I’ll wait outside,” he barely said, and then added, “Ask her do she know me.”
The doctor patted Bookie on his back. “I will.”
“I’m talkin’ ‘bout while I’m in here. See if she recognizes my face.” His voice grew harsher.
He walked back to Summer and stood before her.
“Look at me, Summer,” he demanded. “Do you know who I am?”
Summer looked to the corner at several colorful balloons that were bunched together. Then she drew in her legs and pulled the sheets over her head. Bookie and the doctors just stood silently. Bookie’s eyes turned cold just to keep from crying. This wasn’t part of the plan. He knew that for sure. He looked to the doctor.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Listen, sir, if you would please have a seat in the waiting room and let us deal with this situation…”
“This ain’t no muthafuckin’ situation! This is my heart!”
Chapter 52
Summer was admitted into Georgia Regional after she underwent several mental evaluations. Summer had spent nearly six weeks inside the “crazy house”, as it was called by a majority of the patients. Still, her status was uncertain to the doctors. Some things she’d forgotten and some things she hadn’t. Her name, she remembered it every now and then. She didn’t remember her mother, and her kids didn’t even register in her memory. Bookie didn’t register, either, and he’s the one who took it the hardest.
On Sundays, her family would visit her, and they would eat outside at the picnic tables. Ms. Diane would often bring fried chicken, potato salad, rolls, and fresh lemonade. Then she’d switch it up to fish and yellow rice. Summer loved the food and the thought of strangers coming to visit her, but she simply didn’t know who the hell they were.
Inside her room, Summer climbed into her small bed and balled up in a fetal position underneath a thin wool blanket. She rocked herself to sleep. In her own world is where she would be.
No pressure.
No stress.
No pain.
No gain.
*****
Jeremy turned to the streets without questions and had no intention on turning back. However, the concern for his mother was another story. He wanted to know what was going on, and he knew that Bookie knew something. Now all he had to do was find him.
Jeremy stood up and moved around the small apartment where he and his girlfriend lived in South Augusta. He went into his bedroom and removed a Desert Eagle from between the mattress and box spring. When he tucked it inside his waist, his girlfriend opened her eyes.
“Where you goin’?” Her voice was soft and polite.
Jeremy stared briefly at the beautiful face, then his eyes fell to her stomach. Angie was her name, and she was five months pregnant. He leaned over the bed, kissed her forehead, and gently rubbed her stomach.
“I’m goin’ to check on some shit,” he said before leaving the room.
*****
Night was approaching, and this was Bookie’s time. He pulled up to a secluded area in a dark Excursion with a motorboat hooked up to the rear of it. This spot was a remote fishing area at the Savannah River. He’d been there before, a few times as a matter of fact.
Bookie carefully parked the huge SUV and bounced out in a hurry. He moved around to the rear and removed a tackle box, two sporty fishing rods, and a spotlight. He then found himself a spot at the edge of the water. He went back to the SUV, removed a metal foldout chair, and quickly carried it back. He sat his chair in place and opened the tackle box, fumbling around in it for a few minutes.
There was an older-looking white guy and his son fishing about forty yards down the bank. Bookie noticed them first. He fired up a Newport and cast his rod out into the flowing water. Relaxing back in his chair, he exhaled a stream of menthol smoke into the air. Two hours from now the two bodies that were resting in the bottom of the boat would be dumped in the Savannah River. One of them was Mama Elizabeth, and the other one was Terry Pate. There’s a phrase that says, “Stay down until you come up,” and that’s what he did. Two birds with one stone.
Something snagged at his line. Remaining calm, he fought with the rod for a minute, then looked over toward the white guy and his son. Bookie saluted them with his index middle finger.
Game over, he thought to himself.
Chapter 53
Jeremy pulled into the parking lot of the strip club his mother used to own. Along the way, he picked up one of his running associates who had a solid reputation with street credibility. His name was Wayne, a young, well-trained gunner. Wayne wore dreads, but his was longer than Jeremy’s and he was two years older than him, as well. Wayne watched the parking lot with anxious eyes, studying every car and everybody. His Glock rested between his thighs. With the parking lot this crowded, everybody had to be on the lookout. Jeremy looked around, too. He didn’t see either of Bookie’s cars. As a matter of fact, he didn’t know if he would even be there.
He sat back and took a deep breath. Basically, he was frustrated with himself. Then something told him to check the rearview mirror. His eyes shifted; there was Red Bone walking by the rear of the rental. Jeremy rose up and leaned on the horn. She stopped instantly and turned around. When Jeremy jumped out to meet her, she didn’t recognize him. She stared up at the teenager who could’ve passed for mid-twenties with no problem.
“Where I know you from?” Her eyes searched his.
“I’m twin,” he replied without hesitation.
Red Bone’s eyebrows bunched together, and she covered her mouth with both hands. “You Summa’s son?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he responded. He wasn’t smiling, though.
“How she doin’? I heard she was in Georgia Regional.”
“She doin’ alright, I guess. Look, I’m tryna find Bookie. You know where he at?”
Red Bone’s facial expres
sion changed instantly. “Last time I heard, he was smokin’ dope,” she lied.
Jeremy nodded. “But where he at?” His voice turned more demanding.
Red Bone shook her head. “I don’t have the slightest idea, baby.”
“Who bought dis club from my mama?”
Red Bone hesitated for a moment. The passenger door opened, and the interior light came on. Wayne got out, and Red Bone noticed him coming toward them. She stared at him briefly, noticing the bulge underneath his t-shirt. She looked back at Jeremy and then she checked her watch.
Reluctantly, she said, “A friend of hers.”
She then tried to turn and walk away, but Wayne cut her off. He reached for his gun, but Jeremy gave him a signal to let her go.
When she got inside the club, she went into the dressing room and removed her cell phone from her Gucci bag. She sent out a text message that read: One of the twins and his friends is running around asking questions about your whereabouts. I told them I didn’t know where you were, but they had guns and I think they’re serious. Maybe you need to let 5000 know before some bullshit jumps off.
*****
The following morning, Jeremy rode alone. He pulled up at Georgia Regional and got out dressed in jeans and a Polo shirt, his gun underneath the seat. He strolled through the front door and spoke with the secretary standing behind a high wooden desk. She smiled and greeted Jeremy. They spoke briefly; he clearly stated that he needed to see his mother. The lady smiled and carefully pressed a small button underneath the counter, while at the same time giving a smile as if everything was all right.
Jeremy took a deep breath, trying desperately to control his temper. Just ahead, he noticed three huge guards coming toward him. He looked to the lady and felt his hands beginning to sweat. Jeremy had left his tool in the car and wished like hell he had brought it.
With cold eyes and a harsh tone, he said, “All I wanna do is see my muthafuckin’ mama,” then took two steps back.
The first guy who approached Jeremy stood 6’4” tall, was the only black guy on the premises, and had huge, wide shoulders. He folded his powerful arms across his chest, stared directly into Jeremy’s eyes, and spoke to him in a deep but kind voice.
“Who’s your mother?”
“Summer McKey,” he answered through clenched teeth. “I jus’ need to talk to her.”
The big guy studied Jeremy, seeing the hurt in his eyes and how his painful energy showed all over his face. He put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and guided him down a long corridor, where they turned left and went down another one. At the end of the corridor, they stopped at a room with a small twelve-inch window built into a steel door. The guard looked inside first, his Adam apple bobbing. He then stepped aside and allowed Jeremy to take a look. He moved up to the window and looked inside to see Summer sitting in the center of the floor in a paper gown. She was drawing invisible pictures on a rubber-looking floor. He beat the door with his fist.
“Mama! It’s me, Jeremy.”
She didn’t flinch.
“She can’t hear you,” the guard told him. “The room is soundproof.”
“Can I go inside?” he asked.
Jeremy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This wasn’t the mother he knew.
After being rejected, he was back in the car and riding down Highway 56. He turned into a subdivision called Apple Valley when he noticed a black Dodge Durango with tinted windows following close behind him. Watching in the rearview, he saw the headlights flash on and then off. He slowly pulled to the side of the street right before he reached the cul-de-sac. Removing his tool from underneath the seat, he placed it in his lap just as the driver approached the driver’s side.
His swagger was overwhelming. Cartier frames covered his eyes and a huge yellow diamond sparkled in his ear. Jeremy stared at him briefly. He couldn’t see his eyes, and that made his uncomfortable.
“Who you?” Jeremy asked.
The stranger looked around inside the car. He saw the gun and nodded his head very slowly, as if he was impressed with the youngin’.
Finally, in a deep scratchy voice, he said, “Bookie wanna see you.”
He walked back toward the Durango before Jeremy could say a word. The Durango backed in a driveway and turned around. Jeremy followed it, backing into the same driveway.
Twenty minutes later, they were pulling into a parking area on Ninth Street. Jeremy got out and followed the driver of the Durango around to the rear of a club called Mr. J’s. At the door, a huge guy wearing a vest and a .45 in a leather shoulder holster stopped Jeremy and patted him down, removing his automatic handgun from his waistline.
“I’ma hold on to dis until you leave. Then you get it back.”
Jeremy exchanged a hard look with the goon for only a few seconds. Then he brushed past the guy and made his way inside.
Bookie stood at a pool table with the cue stick in one hand and a lit Newport in the other. Another guy was in the middle of sinking the 8-ball. He was concentrating hard, bent evenly at the waist. He had his back to Jeremy.
Bookie looked at Jeremy just as the guy hit the 8-ball and slowly rolled it toward a corner pocket, where it dropped without hesitation. Bookie slowly nodded and took a draw from his cigarette while staring at Jeremy before moving toward him. Jeremy stood like a giant over him; however, he knew Bookie was a gangsta and didn’t play any games. Bookie looked up at him, his eyes cold and fearless. Then a small grin appeared on his lips.
“What da business is?” he asked, then thumped the cigarette. It landed somewhere toward the other side of the pool table.
“What’s up with my mama?” he asked with a slight tremble in his voice. His eyes stayed fixed on Bookie, though.
Bookie hesitated briefly. Then he placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and tilted his head. “Follow me.”
Bookie walked across the floor with Jeremy on his heels. They passed the bar where an older looking guy was wiping down the countertop. Bookie led him to a small table in the left-hand corner of the club. A dim light hung from the ceiling where they were about to sit. Bookie pulled out a chair and took a seat. Jeremy did the same. They eyed one another again. Bookie took a deep breath.
Chapter 54
Homicide Detective Ronald Avery sat behind his desk with four separate files spread out in front of him. A knock came from the other side of his door.
“Come in,” he said, keeping his attention on the files.
A pleasant-looking woman in her thirties entered the office. She was casually dressed in a two-piece skirt suit with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.
“Hello, Mr. Avery,” she said cheerfully.
“Hi, Cindy. What do you have for me?”
“Two bodies surfaced this morning in the Savannah River.” She flipped open a file. “You’re going to love this.”
She pulled out two black and white photos and placed them in front of Detective Avery. He picked them up, examining them very carefully. Nearly two minutes passed before he looked up at Cindy.
“Neither body has a head,” he said calmly.
She nodded and then removed two more photos. “No hands either,” she said and pointed.
Detective Avery looked closer, nearly staring at the photos. He began to nod his head very slowly as if he was highly impressed. He rubbed the hair underneath his chin as he looked up at Cindy again.
“We may have a problem,” he said suspiciously.
*****
An attendant in a white coat led Detective Avery down a long white corridor and into the cold morgue. There were several rows of oversized drawers labeled by numbers. The attendant didn’t say anything; he just moved toward two drawers, pulled them both out, and unzipped the body bags. Detective Avery took notes while observing the bodies, writing down descriptions of scars and tattoos. Then he examined the lady’s body. The neck area was wrapped in gauze and hospital tape. Then he noticed the word ‘Summer’ tattooed in cursive letters on her right breast. He quickly jott
ed that down in his notepad and pulled out his cell phone.
A voice answered from the other end.
“Detective Towers, please,” he said and turned toward the white-coat attendant. He motioned his hand for him to proceed with whatever else he had to do.
“Detective Towers speaking.”
Detective Avery pushed through the door and began walking down the corridor. “Hey, Detective, this is Avery.” His hard bottom shoes echoed through the halls.
“Hello, Avery. How’s life treating you in the fast lane?” Towers asked.
“I got two bodies over here at the morgue––a Jane Doe and a John Doe. No identification except the name Summer tatted on the breast of the female.”
There was a long pause on the other end. Detective Towers worked in narcotics and was very familiar with the name.
“You said Summer, correct?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Avery replied, standing at the elevators.
“That name surely rings a bell,” Detective Towers said. “It’s on our number one hotlist.”
Avery was inside the elevator now along with three other civilians. “First floor, please,” he told an older black lady who stood near the floor buttons. “This may be our big break,” he told Towers.
“Yeah, this is going to be one crazy summer.”
BOOK 5
2 Years Later
Chapter 55