by Keta Kendric
My phone vibrated, pulling my attention. “Hello?” I answered, seeing it was my cousin, Rayland calling.
“Mecca?” a female voice sounded instead. It must have been Lisa, Rayland’s main girlfriend. Why so many women were drawn to a drug-addicted, unemployed man was beyond me. I labeled my cousin unemployed because aside from the dope he cooked for the Saints and the few customers he scared up, there wasn’t much else he was good for.
“Yes,” I finally answered.
“Mecca, it’s Rayland. He overdosed, and the doctors aren’t sure he’s going to make it through the night,” Lisa’s voice cracked, barely pushing the words out.
“Wait. What? Repeat.”
Arjen slid closer at the sound of my stressed words, concern creasing his face. She repeated her statements, letting me know what hospital my cousin was in.
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I clicked off and stared upward for a quick silent prayer. Fake marriage or not, the world I was a part of wasn’t going to allow me a day to get married in peace.
“I’ll go with you,” Arjen offered.
“You don’t even know where I’m going or what’s wrong,” I replied, assessing him.
“Someone’s hurt, and you need to be there. I’m going with you. What’s the location?”
It didn’t sound like he was asking, and he did need to meet some of the people he had inherited when he had said “I do”.
“My cousin overdosed, and he’s at St. Thomas Memorial. Doctors aren’t sure he is going to make it through the night.”
I wasn’t as close to my two male cousins as I was to Desiree, but it didn’t mean I didn’t care about what happened to them. I prayed Rayland would survive long enough for me to curse his ass out for being so damned stupid.
I dialed Desiree.
“I received a call from his girlfriend and was about to call you,” she said as soon as she picked up the phone. “I’m on my way to the hospital,” she continued, speaking through her sobs.
Arjen leaned up when I clicked off, his movement dispelling his savory scent.
“Ross, take us to St. Thomas Memorial.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver answered, unconcerned about where he had been ordered to take us.
The hospital was in the heart of the hood, but my new husband didn’t seem to care. Did he know the hospital we were about to visit was known for having shoot outs inside of it?
As soon as the car drove up to the emergency room entrance, I reached for the door but was stopped when Arjen reached across me and placed his hand atop mine on the door handle. His closeness caused a wild stirring inside that I found weirdly enticing.
“We are not a traditional husband and wife, Mecca, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being a gentleman. I have manners, love.”
Love?
He said nothing else, simply got out, walked around, and opened my door. The men in my life treated me like I was one of the guys, so I wasn’t used to men being chivalrous. Point for my new husband for being different. The idea caused me to smile, despite the pending situation with my cousin.
Was this Arjen’s way of attempting to impress me?
Eyes landed on us from every direction as we walked through the emergency room. The antiseptic scent attacked before the stench of body odor and lingering death punched me in the face. Medical professionals were rendering care to patients in the crowded space, right where they sat.
We threaded through the crowd, turned past the emergency help desk, and nearly stepped on the legs of one person from a group of four who were sitting on the floor. One was stretched out parallel to the wall and asleep.
“Spare a few dollars please.” The woman lifted up from a sleep lean and asked, not caring that I had almost stepped on her. I was sure Arjen had never seen anything like this based on the way he gawked.
I peeled off a ten from the small stash of cash I had in my clutch and handed it over. We proceeded to our destination, stepping across a man that sat motionless and staring, his eyes unfocused, high on something.
Despite some people being there to seek medical attention, others were there for a place to sleep or to seek out their next fix. People continued to stop and stare as we made our way to the elevators. I had forgotten we were dressed in our wedding attire. Like me, Arjen ignored the scanning eyes and concentrated on what was in front of us.
Once we stepped onto the stuffy elevator that had what appeared to be remnants of a blood splatter mark on the back wall, I hit the fourth-floor button before allowing my eyes to fall close.
“Are you okay?” Arjen asked, closing the space between us. He stood close enough for his warmth to wrap around me, but he didn’t touch.
“I’m good. Sometimes seeing this gives me a crisis of conscience, knowing the job that I do is a direct cause of some of it.”
His head shook in the negative. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for this life. You were born into it same as I was. And although it doesn’t make it right, I know about some of the things you do to level the playing field while others in your position could care less.”
“What do you think you know about me? Did you sneak a peek into my business?”
His smile grew wide as his lips flashed a cute crooked bend.
“I did. I know about the charities you contribute to, the scholarships you support, the orphanage, and a host of others saintly-like tasks others in your position don’t give a shit about, much less think about.”
“Maybe I’m soothing my guilt?”
He tossed me a playful side-eye.
“You must be cruel to be kind; thus bad begins, and worse remains behind,” he stated, quoting Shakespeare, and again adding another point to the collection he was stacking with me.
“The fact that you feel guilt is a good thing, and the most important thing. I feel it, more often than people might think, but we can’t allow people to see that side of us. Those on the outside looking in have no idea that people like us actually have feelings and often feel things with far more depth than anyone else.”
Wow! His words had me realizing that he had way more depth than I had given him credit for. We grew quiet as the straining hum, and squeaking cables of the elevator sounded.
We had no trouble getting the attention of the ward nurse after we stepped off the elevator. Once I gave her my cousin’s name, she checked my identification, gave us his room number, and pointed us in the right direction.
The tips of my fingers shoved my cousin’s cracked door open. The hissing sound of the machines Rayland was hooked up to greeted us when we eased into the room. He was out. Oxygen, a feeding tube, and various other tubes and wires ran from his hand, mouth, and arms.
His boney chest rose and fell in time with the hiss and clap of the machine’s rhythm. Arjen stared down at him momentarily before running a soothing hand up and down my back.
“Take as much time as you need. I’ll wait over there.”
I nodded, and although I wasn’t used to having someone at my side other than Desiree, I was glad he was around.
He stepped away to give us privacy, walking to the windows and observing the view of the broken streets that I had grown up in. A folded blanket and pillow sat atop the couch near the window, which must have been the spot my cousin’s girlfriend had held.
My fingers curled around Rayland’s limp hand before I cupped it. He was the walking definition of a hard-head-making-a-soft-ass. Desiree and I had done everything we could think of to help him. Multiple rehabilitation clinics, an intervention, a couple of good ass whippings from me, but it seemed his love for drugs was the strongest force in his life.
If he survived, I would pull out my last resort to attempt to help him.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Rayland? Do you hate yourself so much that using drugs is all that brings you happiness?”
The way my grip squeezed around his hand was probably too tight, but he had me angry enough to hit him, even on his deathbed.
“When you wake up, I’m beating your ass. What the fuck were you thinking?”
Although my teeth sank deep enough into my bottom lip to take off a chunk, it failed to help contain my building anger. “That’s right, you don’t think until after the damage is done. You have that in common with your brother. Why can’t you be like your sister? The girl’s been through hell in this family and is always the first to offer a friendly smile and a helping hand.”
Arjen remained silent while I spoke to my cousin, encouraging him one moment and scolding and cursing him out the next. I traced a delicate finger along his clammy cheek.
“Everything is going to be all right. I’ll have a nice surprise for you when you wake up,” I promised him.
When the nurse and doctor entered to check his vitals, I gave them the space they needed to do their jobs. The doctor left me with a troubling medical update, informing that it had taken three rounds with a defibrillator to get Rayland’s heart back. He’d had fluid in his lungs and pulmonary edema, which had put him in respiratory distress. Continuous fluids and Naloxone was his lifeblood, and only time would tell if he made a full recovery.
Arjen returned and placed a calming hand on my back before rubbing it soothingly up and down. Neither of us said a word to each other, but some type of communication was being shared anyway. His behavior with me didn’t match the rumors and details I had been able to confirm that built his reputation of pure savagery.
Our heads jerked in the direction of the door when Desiree tore through it in tears. Khane was right behind her. His presence added to his brother’s and filled up the space of the room. Desiree marched in and slung her arms around my neck as she cast a sorrowful glare across my shoulder at her helpless brother.
I didn’t offer her any words of comfort, only the warmth of my tight hug. The grim look that was on the doctor’s face when he was quoting Rayland’s prognosis earlier insinuated that he was in bad shape, therefore I refused to give Desiree false hope. Also, I knew Rayland. Even after a scare like this, he would go right back to using.
“I’m going to stay with him. I’ll call you if anything changes,” Desiree said, backing out of our hug.
“Okay,” I replied, before she took cautious steps to her brother.
How was I supposed to help my cousin without inflicting some level of hurt on him?
8
Arjen
After exiting her cousin’s hospital room, Mecca pulled a nurse off to the side. I assumed it was to seek her help in keeping a close eye on her cousin. Hearing her speak Spanish so fluidly caused me to stare at her interactions with the nurse.
Humm. This was an interesting revelation that caused a smile to find its way to my lips. She was smooth. I gave her that. A gentle touch, a big friendly smile, and an inviting posture were what she gave off.
The few words I understood weren’t enough to clue me in on what she was so intensely discussing with the nurse. However, speaking the woman’s language and engaging with her in a humbling manner would no doubt win her whatever favor she was asking of her.
If there was one thing I had, it was a keen eye for trouble, and my new wife was a walking supermarket of every brand of trouble you desired. She could be cool and caring, loving and adoring, but pinch the wrong nerve, and I was sure she would set your world on fire.
Even though I was eyeing her with the most precise observation, I had missed a few details. Another bruise. When she moved, one peeked from the small portion of her shoulder that was exposed. What was happening that left her bruised? Would she tell me if I asked?
By the time she ended her conversation, I had come to an unsettling conclusion: I liked my wife, and I was more than likely going to end up killing someone over her. She strutted back in my direction after she gave the nurse a quick hug, already converting her to a friendly ally.
“Ready?” she asked me, decreasing her pace long enough to make eye contact before continuing her march towards the elevators.
Ignoring her question, I proceeded with one of my own.
“What were you discussing with the nurse?”
“A way to keep my cousin from getting his hands on drugs. It doesn’t matter that he’s near death. When and if he regains enough strength, he will use. Desiree and I have tried everything accept locking him away against his will, but it is something that I’m strongly considering.”
I didn’t comment because I would have locked him away long before now.
“You have a large bruise on your arm, and I noticed another on the back of your shoulder. Is everything okay? Do you need my help with anything?”
Genuinely concerned, her well-being was my number one priority.
“Everything is fine. Horseplay with the men at the job. They tend to forget that I’m a woman, although the tits and ass should be a clear sign.”
Indeed, those were two of her best assets. But, I didn’t believe her disarming excuse for one second. She was hiding something, and I was determined to find out what that something was.
On our way to the car, I couldn’t tell if the hand I placed in her lower back bothered her or if she’d not been used to anyone touching her there.
“You speak Spanish?” Did she know that she had fully captured my interest?
After assisting her into the car, she slid across the seat so that I could climb in after her. I assumed she had ignored my question until she started talking.
“I don’t remember much before my uncle took me in as a kid, but hearing, and speaking Spanish was natural for me. When the teachers saw how easily I communicated with other Spanish-speaking children, the school asked my uncle where I had learned the language. He claimed he had taken me in right before I turned four, said my father, his brother spoke it, so I must have picked it up from him.”
A sarcastic chuckle escaped, and she shrugged off the irritation from the mention of her uncle.
“I believe my uncle was feeding me a weak lie. Once in a while, I’ll have flashes of people I think I interacted with before he took me in. I think I was in foster care, but my subconscious won’t allow me to see full pictures or piece together concise patterns of those thoughts.”
Learning about Mecca was interesting, and I wanted the conversation to continue, but too soon, the car began to decelerate. We were already back at the house.
Her dominating presence suggested she had gotten used to playing the male role in life and her relationships. However, she hadn’t commented on my apparent inability to keep my hands off her.
She was fully capable of walking from the car to the front door without my assistance, but it wasn’t every day I got married, or found a woman I was interested in outside of a bedroom. There was no use in me lying to myself about it, I enjoyed all those warm and lush places she possessed. What was even more confusing was that I genuinely enjoyed her company.
“Are you hungry? The cook can make you whatever you want.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m still stuffed from all the overpriced food from the reception.”
The guard who had stopped in the living room where he would post up for the night drew her attention for a moment. My hand remained on her back as I guided her through the living room, up the stairs, and along the short expanse of the hall to the master bedroom.
After I pushed the bedroom door open, I waited until she entered first. The automatic lights snapped on with her first few steps. When I followed her in, she came to an abrupt stop and glanced back.
“Where are you going? We don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m sure your staff and guards already know the deal about our marriage.”
I tried but failed to fight the smile teasing my lips.
“This is our room. I plan on taking a shower and getting some sleep.”
If she thought I was letting someone as sexy as her sleep alone, she had lost her mind. The notion that I didn’t have this same type of desire for her cousin resonated. The idea of Desiree and me sharing my bedroom had never formed into
a complete thought. Mecca, on the other hand, was moving in this bedroom the day we had decided to get married two weeks ago.
She surveyed the room in silence, giving it a once over before her gaze stopped at our bed, which I aimed a finger at.
“It’s a California King. You’ll have more than enough room, and you don’t have to worry about me touching you until you ask me to.”
Although I was baiting her on purpose, she didn’t render a reply but continued her observation of the area. We’d had a nonstop day and a family emergency, so I was willing to give her space, but separate rooms weren’t going to happen.
“I’m not worried about you touching me. I know we should at least look like a legit couple, but I’m not used to sharing a bed with anyone. Every man I’ve been with was tossed out as soon as I was done with him, or as soon as he disappointed me.”
This news lifted my brows. “So you’re used to discarding men like tissue?”
“Pretty much,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. She was me, in female form. A step closer had me invading her personal space. “I’m not the type of man that gets discarded.”
The daring glint in her eyes was aimed with all the powers of hell behind them. However, she took a moment to allow my words to sink in. When her expression softened, I didn’t know what to expect but was sure she would give me a piece of her mind.
“I hate to disappoint you, husband, but after years of lackluster performances and ego-driven sex, I have decided its best that I take care of my own needs. It will be one less task you have to worry about. No need to thank me, but you’re welcome.”
“Wife.”
I let the word wife dangle in the air since she made it a point to address me in that way, like there was something wrong with my name.
“Do I look like the type of man that disappoints?”
There was no reply since I had gotten to within a hairs-breath of her face. She had kissed me during the wedding ceremony, letting me know that she had enjoyed it as much as me. She may not have wanted a marriage bed, but I was satisfied for now, knowing she was at least attracted to the thought of being with me.