The kid on the bike sped up and cut Frank off before he could get any further down the strip. He jumped off the Mongoose and Frank went to reach for his weapon.
“Yo, chill homie, it ain’t like that.” The kid extended his hand. “Tyrell Michaels. I’m Dana’s lil’ cousin.” he pulled his hand back when he saw Frank wasn’t budging. “You Mox peoples, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Your man Nate jus’ went upstairs. C’mon, I’ll show you where it’s at.”
Frank had met Dana before, but had never been to her house. The kid didn’t sound like he was trying to pull a stunt, so he followed him into the building.
When they got to the door, Tyrell knocked twice and someone shouted from the inside. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, cousin.”
When the door opened, they walked into the apartment. Frank immediately noticed that Dana had been crying. Her make-up was smeared all over her face from wiping away tears.
The strong stench of cigarette smoke lingered in the atmosphere and clouded the room.
Frank saw Nate sitting on the sofa smoking a Newport and shook his head.
“I thought you quit.”
Nate took a long drag and exhaled the smoke. “I did, but this fuckin’ stress is killin’ me, Frank.”
“Jus’ be cool. We gon’ handle this accordingly. First I need to know what happened. Did anybody speak to Cleo?”
Dana and Tyrell looked at each other and at the same time said, “Cleo?”
“You don’t watch the news do you?” Tyrell grabbed the remote and hit the power button.
The breaking news story had been playing all day, and as soon as they showed Casey’s face on the screen, Dana broke down and ran to the back room.
Nate stood up from the sofa and he and Frank stared at the television. The staggering looks on their faces told stories of their own. Neither of them wanted to believe that what they were seeing was real, but the harsh realities of life aren’t always the most pleasant. Especially when you’re dealing with the cold and bitter streets.
“Are you fuckin’ serious!?” Frank was livid.
Nate pulled another cigarette from his pack and lit it. “I knew that mutha-fucka was a snake.” he puffed the stogie and let the toxins enter his lungs.
“Yo, listen.” Tyrell turned the television off and took a seat on the folding chair. “It’s on fire out here right now, fam. My lil’ man jus’ got booked for a body yesterday and this shit wit’ Mox this morning jus’ added more fuel to the flame. Niggas said Cleo hit Mox, too.”
For a few seconds, silence filled the room.
“This shit went all the way to the left, Frank.” Nate was pacing now.
“What hospital they got my boy in?” Frank questioned.
His stomach was in knots, and tears were building in the well of his eyes, but he knew this wasn’t the place or time to show emotion.
“He up the block at Sound Shore right now.” Tyrell answered. “Yo,” He sat on the sofa and whispered. “I know the spot Cleo be at. That nigga go there at least once a week to trick off. I can handle that for you.”
“Handle what?” Nate didn’t like outsiders intervening in family business.
Tyrell felt the vibe and tried to ease the tension. “Mox was like family to me too, even though we had our differences, I know everything he was telling me was to help me. He wanted me to stay in the books and stay off the block, but I ain’t listen. Anyway, this is the shit I’m here for.” he reached under the sofa and pulled out his taped up .38 revolver. “Mox looked out and bailed me, my cousin, and my homeboy out of jail a few days ago. I got love for that dude, so if some work gotta be put in,” he paused and looked at their faces. “All I’m saying is; I’m that nigga to get the job done.”
Frank realized Tyrell was the one who got Dana’s house raided and Brandi taken away. He probably felt like he owed Mox.
Nate wasn’t feeling it. “All you young niggas want is a name for yourself. We don’t need no other niggas handlin’ our busi—”
Frank jumped in. “Hol’ up Nate,” he eyed Tyrell. “Lil’ nigga say he ready to put in work, let’s see what he about.”
Nate looked Tyrell up and down. He of all people, knew that shooters came in all shapes and sizes. The only way to find out if his word was authentic was to give him a chance. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure if giving Tyrell the green light was the right decision, but in his book, everybody deserved a shot.
“Fuck it, you only get one chance to make a first impression, kid. I hope you make it a good one.”
They went to leave out and Frank stopped at the door. He glanced down at the old, rusted .38 Tyrell had in his hand.
“You gon’ need something better than that to put in work.” He grabbed the silver Baretta .380 semi-automatic off his waistline and tossed it on the couch.
Tyrell placed the old .38 on the coffee table and picked up the .380. He gripped the wood grain handle tightly. “This that Canadian joint, right here?”
Frank and Nate wore surprised looks.
“You know your weapons, huh?” Nate reached around his waist, lifted his shirt and grabbed the pistol from the small of his back. He tossed it on the couch next to Tyrell.
He palmed the lightweight, chrome and black handgun. “Ooh, this is that new G2 right here, and it’s a forty.” Tyrell studied the gun. “It got the good thumb rest, a new trigger safety,” he held the weapon with two hands, extended his arm and aimed at an invisible target. “This is that shit the police be using.” he pressed a button on the handle and the clip fell from the bottom. “I know my ratchets.” He cocked the barrel, put his nose to it, and sniffed. “Brand new.” he said, placing it on the table.
Nate smiled for the first time. “Impressive, kid. Keep it.”
The door slammed and Frank and Nate were gone, leaving Tyrell on his cousin’s couch with three guns and the green light to put a hole in Cleo’s head.
He sat back, spread his arms across the back of the sofa and the corners of his mouth almost touched his ears.
Less than 72 hours ago, Tyrell was broke, homeless, and unaware of where his next meal was coming from. Now he was sitting on a couple stacks, two brand new guns and a chance to earn the trust of Mox’s comrades.
Who says crime don’t pay?
CHAPTER FOUR
Wise Earl jumped from the seat he was sitting in and approached Doctor Callahan as he exited the operating room. “Doctor, please tell us you got some good news?”
The doctor removed the mask from his face, peeled his gloves off, and took a seat between Earl and Sybil. “I would be lying to you if I told you everything was going to be okay. Your nephew has suffered a severe gunshot wound to the head.” he stood up, pulled an x-ray from his clipboard, and held it up to the light so Sybil and Earl could see it. “This right here is an x-ray of your nephew’s skull. As you can see,” he pointed to what looked to be a small hole. “Right here is where the bullet entered.”
Earl stepped in closer to get a better view of the x-ray. “So, where did it come out?” he questioned.
“That’s the problem.” Doctor Callahan removed his glasses and tried to explain what happened. “See, the bullet traveled along the midline of his brain and now it’s lodged back here,” he pointed. “in the base of his skull.”
“So, what that mean?” Earl was getting agitated. “You still ain’t tellin’ us nothin’.”
Doctor Callahan placed his glasses back on his face. “Mr. Daniels, if we go in and try to remove that bullet from Mox’s skull, there’s more than a fifty percent chance that he could die under the knife.”
“Oh my God!”
The tears came falling from Sybil’s eyes as she slumped to the floor. The last thing she wanted to believe was that she was the cause of all this turmoil, but the truth is an uncomfortable actuality and in time, all untruth hiding in darkness will be illuminated and unmasked.
Earl picked Sybil up, wrapped his arms around he
r, and did what he could to tranquilize her discomfort. He was sensitive and sympathetic to her misery. He knew exactly how it felt to be the cause of something tragic; there were demons in his closet too.
“Is there any good news, Doc?” Earl asked.
“The good news is, Mox’s heart is still beating. The bad news… his brain is severely damaged.”
“A coma?”
“Yes,” Doctor Callahan lifted the x-ray again to show Earl. “When the bullet entered the skull, it damaged these areas right here.” he pointed. “Damage to these parts of the brain can sometimes result in amnesia or dementia.”
“So, you tellin’ me that when he wake up, he ain’t gon’ remember what happened?”
“If and when he wakes up, memory loss is a possibility. I’m sorry Mr. and Ms. Daniels, but that’s all the information I can give you at the moment. We’ll continue to do everything we can to keep Mox alive. You got my word on that.” he turned to leave.
“Doc, hol’ up.” Earl caught up to him before he got too far down the hall. “How long you think he gon’ be in this coma?”
Doctor Callahan shook his head. “I don’t know, Mr. Daniels, could be one day, could be one year. It’s all up to Mox. If he fights, I’m sure he can make it.”
Earl watched as the doctor turned on his heels and continued down the corridor. He made his way back to where Sybil sat in the waiting area.
“Excuse me nurse,” he called to a young lady who had just left out of the room they moved Mox into. “Is it possible we can see my nephew now?”
The young nurse looked down at her watch. “Sure, you’ve got twenty minutes until visiting hours are up. Before you go in there, let me tell you; he’s not responsive and it looks a lot worse than it really is.”
Earl ignored her warning and went to get Sybil to come with him into Mox’s room. “Sis, c’mon, they said we got twenty minutes.”
She sat still for a second, and then got up. They walked toward the room holding hands, but before they could get inside, Sybil panicked.
“I can’t do this!” She snatched her hand from Earl, ran back to where she was sitting, buried her face in her lap, and cried.
Earl was fifteen feet away from the room, but it felt like he was taking a thousand steps to get there. His heartbeat sped up and he kept swallowing saliva. The closer he got to the door, the more real it seemed.
He turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open.
The medium sized room was painted sky blue and there were two beds, but one was empty.
A quick glance around the room and Earl’s his eyes fell on the heart monitor next to the occupied bed.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
The frigid temperature in the room and the eerie sounds coming from the machines gave Earl the chills.
Next to the heart monitor was an oxygen machine, an IV, and a breathing module.
“Damn, baby boy,” Earl could barely look at Mox.
He was lying on his back, his head was wrapped in gauze, and his arms were straight at his side.
Earl took a few steps closer, and the repulsive sight of Mox’s swelled face numbed his nerves and churned his insides.
He gagged and a warm sensation rose in his chest, causing him to grab at his stomach and reach for the trash can. He wanted to vomit, but nothing came up.
Earl wiped the saliva that hung from his lip, and tried to bear the emotional scene.
The beeping of the heart monitor sounded like it was getting louder by the seconds.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
“Damn, nephew,” Earl finally managed to get to the chair that was beside Mox’s bed.
He sat down and stared at the tubes that were in his nose and mouth and a tear casually slid down the side of his face. “C’mon, baby boy, you gotta wake up.” he whispered. “We need you out here Mox. Your family needs you. You gotta fight nephew.” the tears started to fall with ease. “Mox, I’m sorry,” Earl cried his heart out and begged God to help Mox recover.
He felt someone else’s presence in the room and thought it was his sister. When he turned to look, it was Frank and Nate standing in the doorway.
Frank was waiting for Mox to jump up from the bed smiling, and tell everyone that this whole thing was a joke, but that didn’t happen.
He tried to move, but his legs were frozen.
“You gotta take care of this Frank.” Earl sobbed.
Frank’s eyes were already watery from seeing Mox lying in that hospital bed, but when he saw Earl crying like a child, it only intensified his aggravation.
He brushed the dampness from his eyes and looked at Earl. “Let no one stand before we.” He mumbled and then he and Nate exited the hospital.
__________
Priscilla’s first overnight stay in the shelter felt like one of the longest days of her life. For weeks she sat in the inpatient program dreaming of the day she would be able to hold her daughter again, only to come home and hear that she’s gone.
Sitting on her cot with her arms wrapped around her knees, pressed against her chest, she closed her eyes and thought back on the day’s events.
A whirlwind of emotions spun inside of her and the attempt to suppress the pain was useless. She could no longer hide how she was feeling.
The tears came down like a waterfall.
Priscilla opened her eyes and looked around the large room.
The nasty colored green walls made her insides quiver and the fetid stench of old, dirty clothes clogged the air.
Damn, I gotta pee
She stepped off the cot and walked down the dark aisle of the dorm to the restroom, and in passing, she counted the cots aligned alongside the walls. It was twelve on each side, but two were empty.
When she pushed the door open, a thick cloud of smoke smacked her in the face and made her lip turn.
She heard movement, and one of the stall doors flew open. A tall, slim brown skinned female with bulging eyes and ashy lips came stumbling out.
“Oh,” She sucked her teeth. “it’s jus’ the new girl. We cool, right?” she inquired.
Priscilla stared at the scraggily woman. She was high, disheveled and very edgy. “I don’t care what y’all do in here. I jus’ came to use the bathroom.”
Another woman stepped out the stall. “She bedda mind her muthafuckin’ business.” She stopped in front of Priscilla. “Bitch, you fuckin’ up my nut.”
Priscilla acted like she didn’t know what was going on. “Huh? I jus’ came to pee.” She tried to get around the woman and go into the stall, but she was much bigger than Priscilla. “Excuse me.”
“You a pretty bitch ain’t you.” She went to touch the side of her face, but Priscilla moved. “You sure you don’t want me to come in there wit’ you?”
Priscilla wasn’t surprised at the advance, her thought was that it may have come a little later than sooner, but she was anticipating it. Her girl Jennifer had already schooled her to most of the occurrences that would take place in these shelters.
She tried to mentally prepare Priscilla for what she was about to encounter, because living in these shelters was very similar to living in prison. The major difference was; staying at the shelter was a personal choice. You didn’t have to be there if you didn’t want to.
She ignored the heavy set woman’s words and nudged her way past the two females and into the stall.
The crummy bathroom was typical of a government facility. It reeked of sour urine and feces and the toilet seat was stained with dry blood.
Nasty bitches.
When she exited the stall, the slim, brown skinned chick was leaning against the sink puffing on a cigarette.
“What’s yo’ name?” She blew smoke out and tapped the ash in the sink.
“Priscilla.”
“Umm hmm… well, my name is Kim and that bitch there,” she said pointing to the door. “That was Mother Nature. She run this shit. If I was you, I wouldn’t get on her bad side; she’s known to have a not so very good tempe
r.” Kim offered the remains of her cigarette to Priscilla.
“No thank you. I don’t smoke.”
She finished washing her hands and went to grab a paper towel from the dispenser, but Kim blocked her. “Bitch, you actin’ like you too good to smoke wit’ me?”
Priscilla snapped, snatched a handful of Kim’s hair and pressed the side of her face against the cold, filthy tile on the wall. She leaned in close enough to smell her stale breath. “If you even think of fixing your lips to call me a bitch again, I swear to God that will be the last thing you ever say.”
The Union II Page 3