Darius Jones

by Mary B. Morrison

  I went to my room, showered off my suntan oil, then checked out of my room.

  CHAPTER 21

  Bambi

  The thirty-mile drive to the uniform shop located in Bellflower took an hour and thirty minutes. I paid cash for three nursing uniforms and two pairs of shoes. I made sure one uniform was a white cotton short-sleeved V-collar pullover with pastel hearts and solid white pants like the one Anita Harris had worn. Both pairs of shoes were white leather.

  Damn, almost forgot I was out of new lace wigs. I zoomed to Dream Girls Hair Imports on Sepulveda Boulevard in Culver City and snatched up twelve wigs from the owner, Tonya Thompson. “Hey, BC!” That was short for Brandon Charles, the finest and best stylist. If I weren’t in love with my Darius, I’d make Brandon mine.

  I bought the Brianna, Destiny, Loressa, Eboni, Thalia, Camilla, Tiffani, Blond Ambition, Aubrey, Caribbean Beauty, Samantha, and the Ivory. Each wig was a different color. Half were full lace that required gluing around my entire hairline. The other half were no-glue front laces that would allow me to apply the wig with tape and drastically change my look in ten minutes.

  My next stop was the rental car agency. I traded my silver convertible for a black sedan, then headed to Walmart in Long Beach to purchase two infant car seats and a playpen.

  On my way to my parents’ home on East Seaside Walk in Long Beach to drop off the playpen, I made arrangements to meet Rita so I could pick up that brat DJ and drop him off at Jada’s on my way back to the hospital.

  CHAPTER 22

  Darius

  Almost forty-eight hours had passed since the accident. I hadn’t left my wife’s bedside except to use the restroom. The nurses brought me food, beverages, and my wife’s teal bag was mysteriously returned to the room while I’d dozed off. When I saw the bloody halter-top dress on top, I stuffed the bag in the bottom of her closet.

  Squatting in the chair, “Oh, wee,” my body odor crept upon me. The home game was coming up in two days. I had to soak my nuts, go check on my son, in that order. Was worried about Mom. Hadn’t spoken with her since yesterday morning.

  My battery had gotten low so I borrowed Anita’s charger. I posted on Facebook, Thanks for your prayers for my wife. We’re not out of the woods yet. Going to shoot around in a few. Well wishes and more prayers poured in instantly. My fans did care.

  How long would I have to wait before I could hold my wife in my arms again? I knew I shouldn’t have those selfish thoughts but I was useless not being able to help her. Felt guiltier with each passing hour that she was the only one hurt. What was my lesson?

  The little things I thought about were what would my life be like without her hugs, her kisses, her smiles, and her laughter. Her wisdom, her advice, and her loving touches kept me balanced. I missed those big brown eyes that spoke to me without her saying a word.

  Her eyes stayed open a little longer today but she still hadn’t spoken. The doctor said her progress was promising and my being here definitely helped. Doc’s support was appreciated but I believed her condition would be the same if I weren’t here. I sat beside her bed. “Baby, I’ma have to go home today to shower and change clothes. I’m going to shoot around for a few hours, get a decent hot meal, and I’ll be back tonight.”

  Someone tapped on the door. I opened it, then stepped into the hallway. Couldn’t lie. I was happy as hell to see my teammate and friend.

  “K-9, man, what am I going to do?” I cried on his shoulder like a six-month-old, hungry, wet baby needing to be held. The tears surprised me. Thought I was all cried out.

  “It’s all good, man. We bleed too, nigga. We bleed too,” he said. “Everyone on the team, the coaches, players, and their families, send their prayers.”

  “Yeah, I’ve spoken with Coach a few times. He wants me at the home game if I can make it. Says playing will help me take out my aggression in the right place. But he’s leaving it up to me.”

  “Fam first, D.”

  “Yeah, problem is, I’ve got two. My wife and kid and you guys.”

  “Check it out like this. Say you go with us to Cleveland. You break the bank up in that Quicken Loans Arena. Then you get a call saying, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, we did all we could.’”

  That reality shit hit me hard. “If some crazy shit like that went down while I was away from my wife, I’d tear down the north and south towers of this hospital with my hands. I’d lose it, man.”

  There were no easy answers. Couldn’t ignore my problems this time. I cried on his shoulder again. A couple of camera lights flashed. Paparazzi were lurking in the corners of the hallway taking pictures of my crying and hugging K-9. No telling where those photos would show up.

  “Ain’t that about a bitch,” I said, shaking my head. “Guess he’ll get his moment of fame for selling those pics to TMZ.” I was too upset to give a damn.

  K-9 yelled, “Get the fuck outta here before I beat your ass! Give me a sec, D. I’ma catch that punk ass before he have us on prime time looking like bitches.” K-9 ran off behind the guy; they disappeared into the stairway.

  I heard rumbling, went back into my wife’s room. That was the reason I hadn’t come out since I’d gotten here. Paparazzi came up here pretending to be visitors. Every network wanted an exclusive bedside interview with me holding my wife’s hand. The police wanted more details about the hit and run. Far as I was concerned the police was another layer of paparazzi. The cops were the only ones who’d taken pictures of Rihanna but her photos were all over TMZ. The insurance company wanted a statement from me. Department of Motor Vehicles had forms hand delivered to the room. None of that shit would’ve gone down like this if I were an average Joe.

  With all the drugs in her system, Fancy had fallen asleep, or maybe she was resting her eyes. I heard a tap on the door. Softly, I said, “Come in, man,” trying not to wake up my baby. I was not prepared to see the face standing in the doorway looking back at me.

  Why in the fuck are you here?

  CHAPTER 23

  Ashlee

  A real woman’s balls were always bigger than a man’s.

  I gloated as Darius’s chocolate face turned two shades lighter. He was speechless when he saw me standing in the doorway. The fear in his eyes told me he wasn’t that big bad shit talker who’d talked down to me in the past.

  “What’s up, Ash? Forgive me. Poor choice of words. I mean, how you doin’, Ashlee?” K-9 said, ushering me inside the room.

  Yeah, the three of us went back far enough for K-9 to remember my being trapped in the fire. Part of my face was burned but thanks to modern medical techniques my face was restored. The arsonist target was Darius but I was the one who suffered. I was in the building working late that night while Darius was fucking around.

  Darius got out of his seat, stood in front of me. I put my left foot forward, hand on my right hip, tossed my head back, stared up at him. Had on my Nikes for traction, hair slicked back in a ponytail, no makeup, no jewelry. I came ready to kick Fancy’s ass and outrun Darius. Assessing Fancy’s condition, I was overprepared.

  “I’ma pay for this one, D, but dude left me no choice,” K-9 said, holding up a professional camera.

  “Good to see you two haven’t grown up,” I commented. “That’s not a good thing.” I peeped around Darius’s side. He moved, trying to block my view of Fancy. “Somebody needs to comb her hair. I already saw her. I’m trying to get a closer look to see if she’s faking it.” I pushed Darius. The strength of his body made me shove myself to the side.

  “Like K-9 said, what’s up, Ashlee?”

  I stared at Fancy while answering Darius. “Your mom didn’t tell you? She asked me to come help her watch DJ. Besides, it’s my weekend to have him anyway. But I had to see for myself what condition she”—I nodded at Fancy—“was in. Pretty bad. Who was driving? You?”

  Darius concealed his smile. No matter how serious the situation, I could always make him laugh before he got mad again. He shook his head. Shook off my comment. I wasn’t gi
ving him any relief. All the days of my life he’d fucked up, he deserved this shit.

  He stood in front me. “Seriously, Ashlee. Don’t you have any compassion for my wife? Can’t you see I’m scared?”

  “Where the fuck were you all the times I was scared?” I asked him.

  “I can’t change that, Ashlee. It’s in the past. Right now, I don’t know what I’d do without my wife.” He walked me to the corner of the room, then whispered, “Ashlee, look. I’m sorry for all the fucked up shit I did to you. I wanna make it up to you, I swear. We were both young. After our son was born I didn’t know how to love Fancy and emotionally be there for you at the same time. But this accident right here changed me for life. I’ma do whatever it takes to make you a part of our lives but you can’t see DJ for more than two days.”

  What the fuck made him think I wanted to be a part of their lives? That sounded good (more so to him) but it came a lotta too late for me, and DJ was my damn son too.

  Lunging toward him with my shoulders, I said, “Fuck you, Darius! You should’ve called me right away! That’s your wife but DJ is my son, Darius. Mine. Not hers. You should’ve called and told me my baby was in a car accident. Your mother could’ve called me when it happened. Nobody called Ashlee until a day later! And even then your mother didn’t tell me. Why did I have to hear it from my three-year-old?”

  I saw Fancy’s left leg move. Yeah, twitch, bitch, you know I’m keeping it one hundred. I got closer to Darius so he wouldn’t look over his shoulder at her ass.

  “Ashlee, please. Keep your voice down.”

  “Please my ass! Fuck you!” Put one finger on me and your ass is going to jail. Now both of her legs were moving. I wished K-9 wasn’t standing there watching me—I’d do a Jay Crawford on Darius so fast.

  “D, let it go,” K-9 said. “She’s not hearing you. You see where this is going.” K-9 opened the door, leaned half his body into the hallway. “Nurse! We need a nurse!”

  “Punk ass ballers.” If K-9 knew what was best for him, he’d stay out of my warm-up with Darius and out of my lineup. I was just getting started. I could emasculate Darius and castrate K-9 at the same time.

  Several nurses rushed into the room.

  I didn’t give a fuck about them. “We’ll see how you feel when the shoe is on the other foot,” I told Darius.

  “Miss, you’re going to have to leave the hospital,” one of the nurses told me. “Or I’m going to have to call the police.”

  “Bitch, do what the fuck you gotta do.” I looked at Darius squaring his shoulders. “If you keep fucking with me, I will kill you and her,” I said, pointing at Fancy.

  Another nurse said, “Oh, my gosh. Call the doctor. She’s moving. Your wife is moving.”

  Darius rushed to Fancy’s bedside. Guess that gave him a reason to keep standing tall. His day was coming.

  I stared that bitch ass nurse Anita down, then told her, “I hadn’t planned on staying.” I handed Darius the envelope containing my custody papers, bypassed K-9, and left the building.

  That bitch twitching was just the distraction I needed. I hurried to the lobby, picked up DJ from Jada, and kept it moving. By the time Darius called his trifling ass mother I’d be on the plane with DJ headed back to D.C.

  CHAPTER 24

  Darius

  She moved. My wife moved.

  I wasn’t sure if I should thank Ashlee or curse her out. Ashlee could make a great situation bad or a bad situation worse without trying. Damn that girl was never happy. Never satisfied. Wasn’t my fault she was passive-aggressive. She started out doing whatever it took to keep me happy. Then when I’d stopped making her happy, she’d done all she could to make my life a living hell. I know my mom wasn’t bold enough to let Ashlee watch DJ for more than two days without consulting me first.

  Nurse Anita said, “Everyone out, including you, Mr. Jones. Your wife’s pressure is up. Out, Mr. Jones, leave now,” she said, hissing between her teeth. “Your wife is fighting to recover and you’re in here acting inhumane. I pray you haven’t set her back. Leave, now.”

  Dr. Duke rushed into the room. K-9 grabbed my arm while holding on to the camera. We stood in the hallway. “Let’s chill here for a minute. Give you and the staff time to calm down and Ashlee time to get out of your way.”

  “I messed up, huh?”

  “D, females always trying to one-up on us. You good.”

  I posted on Facebook. Gotta go put up some shots before I lose it. Baby mama drama. Just sayin’.

  Knowing Ashlee, if she was telling the truth about watching DJ, I might not see my son again. I sensed something bad was about to go down. I called my mom.

  Mom answered all cheerful. “Hey, baby. How’s Fancy?”

  “Ma, where’s DJ?”

  “Ashlee just left with him.”

  “Just left with him? Where’s she taking him? Where’s she staying?”

  “I don’t know where she’s staying. DJ wants his mom to take him to Disneyland,” Mom said all nonchalant.

  “She just left with my fucking son and you have no idea where she’s staying. Where are you?”

  “Darius, I need help and you can’t help me. It’s not my fault that DJ isn’t used to staying with people he doesn’t know. I tried letting Bambi watch him for a few hours yesterday and that didn’t go too well. Ashlee will drop him off later. Darius, it’s okay.”

  “Don’t fucking ‘Darius it’s okay’ me, Ma. Stop pawning off my son. I haven’t even met this personal assistant of yours yet and you let her watch my son? Where were you that you didn’t have time to keep him?” I already knew wherever Grant was my mom wasn’t far from him.

  “Check yourself. You’re getting out of hand. I’m in the lobby at the hospital on my way up to visit Fancy. Where are you?”

  “You know where the fuck I am. You can’t see Fancy right now. Thanks to Ashlee coming to my wife’s room causing commotion, Fancy’s pressure is up. Stay there. I’m on my way down to see you.”

  “Here, man,” I said, handing K-9 the envelope Ashlee gave me. “Open it for me.”

  K-9 laughed. “What if it’s laced with anthrax? You know that female is certifiable. I think you’d better do the honors when you’re by yourself,” he said, handing the letter back. “For real though, D. You can’t talk like that to your mom. The one thing I’ve learned is if a man doesn’t respect his mother, his sisters, and females, a boomerang is gonna keep knocking him on his ass. I ain’t saying you have to like them, but respect goes a long way. Give it five before you go to the lobby.”

  Fuck! I boxed with the air. Desperately wanted to punch the wall but I wasn’t that stupid. My hands were worth millions. The tears running down my face were fueled with anger. My son was probably gone. My wife, fighting for her life. My mother betrayed me. Me, I was a piece of shit waiting for someone to flush me down the toilet.

  “D. Let’s go shoot a few rounds. After you wash your ass.”

  He got no argument from me when I could smell my own funk. I smiled for the second time since the accident. I could continue soaking in shit but I had to regain control and shift my attitude. The choice was mine. Boxing with the wind wasn’t resolving my problems.

  “Fair, my nuts are starting to stick to my thighs,” I said, getting on the elevator. “Man, she moved. That’s great, right?”

  “Fancy can kick your ass and mine. She’s a fighter. She’ll be fine. Let the nurses take care of her and I’ll keep watch over you, dawg. After you handle that stench, we’ll get something to eat, shoot around, and I’ll bring you back here.”

  “Anita said don’t come back.”

  “Man, you’re hearing things. She never said that. That’s your wife and you have a right to see her. They just need you to chill and not be upsetting Fancy. That’s all.”

  Part of me was looking forward to coming back; the other part was ready to go to Cleveland. “Cool. That way I’ll be refreshed and calm. But, dude, why my mom let Ashlee take DJ?” The elevator doors ope
ned. I saw my mom in the lobby arguing with Grant.

  “Guess you’ve got your answer, man. But I can’t take cameras from all them.” K-9 pointed at a group of reporters moving in my direction. “I’ll be outside in my car.”

  Walking over to my mom, I said, “Ma, life is too short. He’s not worth it. Let his ass go. Right now I need to know where my son is.” I was so mad at my mom I didn’t bother telling her Fancy’s eyes were open and she’d moved.

  Cameras flashed, making me angrier. Wish those sorry bastards would back off. “Leave me the fuck alone! Report that! Better yet, go find that trick that’s responsible for my wife being in the hospital.” With all the chaos, I hadn’t had time to hire a detective to hunt down the bitch who was driving that white pickup truck.

  Grant commented to my mom, “There, you heard it from your own son. I’m not worth it.”

  “Nigga, save your steps and your breath. I’m talking to my mother. You don’t owe her but you do owe me. Don’t make me beat your ass a million times to get my money back,” I told him. I was on the verge of swinging at more than air.

  Grant looked at my mom. “You want me to handle him? Because if I do, he’s going to be on the third floor, in a room, in a bed, next to his wife!”

  Mom pleaded, “Darius, don’t.” She placed her hand on my bicep. “I have to meet Bambi for lunch, then I’ll come back and stay with Fancy until you get back.”

  “Get your hand off me, Ma. Don’t pacify me.”

  She checked to make sure Grant wasn’t leaving. “He’s not worth it, son.”

  “Ma, forget lunch. Go find my son.”

  What the fuck was wrong with my mother? I moved my mom’s hands. Didn’t want her touching me in that way like she was protecting his ass from me. I looked down at her, then said, “Maybe you’re the one who’s not worth it.”