“Don’t believe the worst yet. The police don’t have all the facts—they’re still working on it.” I wanted to comfort her, but I wasn’t sure what to say. My mind was still reeling at the possibility that Jack was involved, but again, I had to ask the question. If Jack was in jail, why would they think it was he who shot Andre? I knew how much he loved those kids, all of them—Ricky, Mario, Andre... This was bad news for Jack. I felt heartsick about the whole thing and I kept my fingers crossed for Andre. If he did make it, he had a long way to go to completely recover.
“You know, Nurse Mollie, you’re right. Andre is a good kid. You know he made honor roll in high school. All four years. He just barely graduated in the spring.” She looked at me and I could see her eyes were almost swollen shut from all the tears.
I ran my hand down her shoulder. “Mrs. Washington—”
“Please, call me Gloria. Mrs. Washington is too formal.”
She blew her nose again and I continued. “Gloria, the doctor will do everything he can, and it’s too early to believe anything yet. When Andre wakes up and is off the pain meds, we can ask him. I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.”
“All I know is my baby is being accused of selling drugs.” She paused, “I hope they hang Fitz up by his balls. Making my child a drug dealer. I was a fool to believe that he wanted to help those children. Out there racing up and down the street all the time. Smoking in front of them. I was a fool, and now my baby is—”
I patted her back as she cried. I bit my lip…there was no need to defend Jack to her. She wanted to believe that her child wasn’t involved and who was I to tell her otherwise? Obviously, I wasn’t too good a judge of character. I didn’t have the heart to defend Jack right now. Andre was really in trouble, fighting for his life. After a few minutes, I made the call for her, letting the Washingtons’ pastor know that one of his members needed his help. He sounded concerned, promised to come right away and by the time I’d left her, the pastor had just arrived and I took care of my other patients. A few hours later, the surgical team hadn’t yet emerged and I knew Gloria would be worried so I stopped by to see her.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it can actually be a good thing when they take longer. That means that they’re well into the surgery, Andre is still fighting to live, and they think they can help him. Stay positive, okay?” She hugged me and gave me a weak smile just as Dr. Gray walked into the waiting room looking tired and grim.
“Mrs. Washington?”
“Yes, I am Andre’s mother, Gloria Washington.”
“Good. Andre made it through the surgery fine. He’s a fighter, that one. That’s the good news but unfortunately, the bullet didn’t pass through cleanly. He had quite a few fragments that we had to retrieve, and some nicked arteries, but we patched him up. I won’t lie to you. Andre lost a great deal of blood before he got here so the next forty-eight hours should tell us how things are progressing for your son. However, I have to tell you that he has one fragment left and it’s very close to his heart. I couldn’t retrieve it—but I have called a friend of mine, Dr. Manning—he’s an expert cardiologist—to consult with me for a second opinion. After forty-eight hours, if Andre is still doing well, Dr. Manning and I will go in and get the last piece out. I know that’s a lot of information to take in, so if you have any questions, please call me and I’ll come by and see him in a couple of hours.”
“Thank you, Doctor. When can I go see him? When can I see my boy?”
“My nurse will call you back to ICU in just a few minutes, as soon as they get him situated in his room. I must warn you, though. He probably won’t regain consciousness until sometime tomorrow. He’s experienced a lot of trauma but he’s young and strong.”
“Okay, thank you again.” Gloria shook the doctor’s hand. Her pastor hugged her and gave her a smile, and I decided now was a good time to leave quietly.
“Wait! I want to thank you, too. Thank you for being there for me.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Wash—Gloria. I’ll come by and see you guys in the morning.” She smiled and walked toward the elevator to go to the ICU unit.
I finished my shift in complete robot mode. At the end of the day, I left the hospital, sad for Andre and Gloria, but mostly confused about Jack.
Chapter Four — Jack
True to his word, Jernigan had me out in less than an hour. My mom was still in jail and I planned on leaving her there as long as they’d keep her. I’d had enough of her crap and if I didn’t get my life in order quickly, I was facing more than just the embarrassment of having a drunk for a mother. I could lose everything—including my freedom. Detective Yance had a bug up his ass and he was definitely out for blood—my blood.
I wanted my phone back before I left, but the cops wouldn’t let me have it until they’d finished their investigations. That really pissed me off. What if Mollie was trying to get hold of me? Luckily, Jernigan knew how these assholes worked and had anticipated that would happen, so he’d brought me a cheap, pay-by-the-minute piece of crap so he could at least stay in contact with me.
I took the bus home and I’d never been so happy to see my crappy house again. I walked up the back steps and lit a cigarette as I went. I pulled the keys out of my jeans pocket, but I didn’t need them. The door had been kicked open—the splintered wood and dangling hardware were evidence of the cops’ visit. I pushed the debris aside with the toe of my boot and walked into the biggest mess I’d ever seen.
“FUCK!”
Every fucking drawer and cabinet door stood wide open. Everything was scattered on the dirty counters and floors. Sonofafuckingbitch!
“Fuck you, DuBois. This is MY house!” I yelled, to no one in particular. The douche bags even left the refrigerator door wide open—not that there was much in there other than a few cans of Nellie’s cheap-ass beer.
I kicked the crap to the side and pulled out a rickety chair from under the dinette. I sat down and took a deep drag off my smoke while I reached for my new phone and dialed Mollie’s number. Good thing it was an easy one to remember or I’d have been screwed, but no answer—didn’t even go to voicemail.
I mumbled, “This is bullshit. Mother fucking bullshit.”
I tried again and punched the numbers harder—as if that would help get the call through—then leaned back in the chair and looked around the corner into the living room. This would be a fucked-up mess to clean up, but I wasn’t in the mood to start now. I stared out of the dirty window into the bare street. Normally, the kids would be running up and down the sidewalks, playing ball, having fun, but this morning it was eerily quiet.
I got up and walked to Elaina’s, hoping to find out something about Dre. I tapped on her door as politely as possible. You learn quickly not to bang on doors in this neighborhood. Elaina opened it but she didn’t look like she wanted to.
“What are you doing here, Jack?” she hissed, as she looked nervously up and down the street.
“Should I go?”
She sighed. “No, get in here.” She pulled me inside and shut the door behind her. “When did you get out?”
“Just a few minutes ago. You should see how those assholes remodeled my house. It’s almost better than before.” I smiled and tried to joke about it, but I wasn’t feeling it, and neither was Elaina. “Are you planning on going to see Dre? I’d like a ride if you do.”
“No, you can’t do that, Jackie. His mother thinks you had that kid selling drugs for you.” Elaina stepped closer to me, her hand on her petite hip. “She says you were giving him money. What’s going on?” Her long, dark hair was piled on top of her head and the rest hung down in a ponytail. I’d assumed she’d been working all night. I’d known her to work three jobs at one time, just to take care of Ricky.
“Yeah, I was, but not drugs. You knew I was helping him out for watching the kids, making sure they were okay. You knew that. You know me.” I could hear Ricky playing in his room, but he hadn’t bothered to come see me. No doubt the who
le neighborhood was talking about Andre, and I’d probably given everyone a reason to doubt me at one time or another since I had a reputation for being a hot head. I mean, just a few weeks ago I was fighting in my yard. What could I say to make her believe me? I guessed now was the time to be honest. Elaina peered at me over her gold-toned glasses and I’d obviously interrupted her morning newspaper.
“Yes, Jack. That’s what I thought, but—”
“If that kid bought drugs with that money, I had nothing to do with it. I never sold him drugs or gave him drugs.” I ran my hand through my hair, ready to yell, but I knew that wouldn’t be right. I needed her on my side, but unfortunately, she didn’t seem to believe me, so I said in a quiet, calm voice, “I love these kids, Elaina. I don’t want that for them.”
“So you thought giving some cash to a teenager with no job was a good idea? What else did you think he would spend it on? I’m not saying Andre is a bad kid but you know more than anyone we’ve got some nasty dirt bags living around here. You must have known he’d go bragging about having some money. It’s all very well and good trying to help the kids out, but you didn’t think about the consequences. You should have known that’d make him a prime target for these dealers.”
“So, you’re saying it’s my fault?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. Look, I know you didn’t mean to do it, but you practically put the gun in that dealer’s hand. That boy isn’t old enough to know what he’s doing on the streets. You know and I know that these drive-bys are always about drugs. I’m sorry to be hard on you, but these thugs don’t care how old Andre is, they just want that money. Believe me, I see it every day. They come in the store and take whatever they want. I see it on the bus. You shouldn’t have given him that money like that Jackie.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she stopped me by raising her hand. “I know you didn’t mean for it to be a problem, but you know how it is living over here in this shit hole. Things are never like they seem. Give Gloria some time to cool off and then you can talk to her. But for now, leave it alone, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” I sat on the couch and put my head in my hands. “I’m sorry, Elaina. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“I think you’d better go, Jackie. I have to get some sleep, Ricky’s dad is coming to pick him up for the weekend and I don’t need him to find you here. He might get the wrong idea.”
“Can I see him? Ricky, I mean.” I glanced hopefully at his door.
She took my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you get it? Kids are getting shot around here and I don’t want anything to happen to Ricky. You need to go, okay?”
So that was it. Elaina was afraid—afraid of what would happen if she remained my friend and if Ricky hung around me. I guess I couldn’t blame her. Apparently, it was lethal to even know me right now.
“Okay, okay. I’m going. I don’t want to cause you any trouble, but can I take your newspaper if you’ve finished with it?”
“Well, I wasn’t quite done but, sure, go ahead and take it. What you want it for anyway? I ain’t never seen you reading the paper before.”
“I’ve got to straighten up, Elaina, and without my car to race, I need to find a job real quick to buy food. Maybe there’s one in there for me.”
“I hope you mean that, Jackie. Now, get out of here. I’ll see you around.”
As I walked away from Elaina’s place and back to my hell-hole, my heart felt like lead. All I could think about was Mollie, Andre, Ricky—all the people who mattered to me. Mollie had been my hope, the one good thing I had in my life. I sucked in a deep breath and wiped the tears from my eyes. I walked into the house, sat at the table and pulled out a battered city street map from the shelf. It only took me a few minutes to find her address and I knew the bus passed by there really close. I knew what I had to do. I got up and walked down to the bus stop. I had to see her!
An hour later, I stepped off the smelly bus and walked down the long street that ran in front of Mollie’s house. I’m sure I stuck out like a sore thumb with my torn jeans and fitted t-shirt. I tried to tame my wild hair with my hands, but I was convinced I’d only succeeded in making it worse. I read the house numbers as I walked along and pulled out the slip of paper that I’d written her address on from my pocket. Yeah, this is it, I remember now. I walked up the steps and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I figured she must be home since her Beemer was in the driveway, so I rang the bell and waited.
Charles DuBois opened the door with a big greyhound at his side. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a courtroom with his sharp-looking, pinstriped blue suit and crisp, white shirt. Even his tie was perfect.
“What are you doing here?”
Stupidly, I offered him a handshake and not surprisingly, he ignored it. “I’m Jack Fitzgerald. I wanted to—I mean, I’d like to talk to Mollie if that’s okay.”
“I bet you would. A young, beautiful, rich girl with daddy issues. I bet my daughter is a prime target for one of your schemes,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded.
“Wait—what?”
“I’ve made it my business to know all about you, Mr. Fitzgerald. You, and your fast cars and illegal behavior. I made it crystal clear to my daughter that she needed to give you up, leave you alone, but she refused and chose to disobey me. I know she’s been seeing you, Mr. Fitzgerald, and I know you fulfilled your disgusting animalistic urges with her right here in MY house! You have no respect for anyone. She’s not here. She chose you over me, and if you don’t know where she is, I’m certainly not going to help you find her, so if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped back and tried to shut the door, but my hand flew up and pushed back on it.
“Wait! What? What are you talking about? Your daughter and I are just friends. What do you mean she’s not here?”
“Don’t even think about lying to me, Fitzgerald. I can smell a lie like a fart in an elevator. I’m a lawyer, remember? I hear it every day and I know you screwed my daughter under this roof. I meant what I said. She isn’t here. She moved out. Now, kindly get off my porch before I call the police—again—and if you show up at this house one more time, you’ll regret it.”
“Are you threatening me?” I wanted to lay this guy out, but I knew if Mollie had just one thought that I’d hurt her dad, she’d never forgive me.
“Not a threat, Mr. Fitzgerald—a promise.” Then he slammed the door in my face. I couldn’t believe it. He’d thrown his own daughter out on the street. Because of me. Now I had absolutely no fucking way to get a hold of her.
I walked back to the bus stop and grabbed the first bus that came along. I didn’t care where it was going—I just wanted to get out of there. My car was gone, Mollie was gone and the kids were gone. Everything good was gone from my life and the only thing I could think of to do was what everyone always expected me to do—fuck up.
After an hour of cruising, I got off the bus a few blocks from home, and as I walked down Radke Avenue, I coldly greeted a few familiar faces.
“Hey, Fitz! You can’t be here man. You too hot right now. You want something?”
“Yeah, G. I want something.”
“A’ight. Go around back. Walk to the end of the block and I’ll meet you back there. I can’t afford the man to see you up in here.” The dude I knew as “G” walked away, and I turned and obediently walked down the block. True to his word, G met me around back and handed me a small packet of white powder. I shoved the money into his hand. It was just about the last of the cash I had on me when I went to jail. I didn’t even ask what he gave me. And honestly, I really didn’t give a fuck. I stopped by the liquor store on the way home and bought a two-dollar bottle of wine. Tonight was my night. A night to forget.
I went back to my house and looked up and down the near-empty street for any sign of cops or sneaky detectives. I didn’t see any, so I kept on moving. I kept the lights off and went into the kitchen to prepare my shit. I heated it up, and then carefully siphoned it
into the syringe. I looked around outside again and went to my room. I closed the broken door the best I could and, out of habit, shoved the dresser in front of it. I pulled down the shade and sat on the side of my bed. “Fuck. Fuck.” I looked at the syringe, then the wine and thought about what I was about to do. I’m just like my mother. My heart thumped and pounded until it was all the way up in my throat. I twisted the rubber band around my arm and held the rig in my shaking hands. Thanks, Mom.
I knew if I did the whole thing, it would be over. No more crappy life. No more being Nellie’s kid. No more being the person who everyone hated.
If I did half, I’d get a good high and I could get lost for a day or so, lost inside my head. I made a fist and felt the tension of the band. I couldn’t decide which to do.
Should I die or just get high?
I laughed out loud as I thought about the possibility of accidentally kill myself. That’d just be my luck. Suicide by getting high. What am I thinking?
I put the rig down on the dresser and opened the wine. My hands were sweaty now. It was warm in here with the shade pulled down. I took a deep breath, and another, then I polished off the wine in one long gulp. “Fuck yeah!”
Suddenly, with all my might, I threw a heavy ass ashtray across the room and it smashed against my dresser mirror. They both shattered with a loud bang and I laughed like a crazy person. I ran my free hand through my hair, yelling out, “Fuck you, mother fuckers!”
I was such a screw up. I grabbed the needle, slid it into my vein and sobbed as the warmth spread through me. “Oh, fuck me, yeah.” I tossed the rig to the side and pulled off the band. I flopped back on the bed and enjoyed the expected rush of euphoria. Mollie’s face dimmed and I was lost. Lost in another place without a fucking care in the world.
The liquid surged through my body and made me feel warmer with every passing second. I braced myself for the adrenaline rush as I controlled my breathing. That was the one thing about getting high. If you panicked, you’d be fucked for the next six to eight hours. Fuck that! I wasn’t staying here panicking. Instead, I grabbed my jacket and sprayed myself with some cologne. I was going to get fucked tonight. I didn’t have any more fucking money but damn it—I was Jack Fitzgerald. JACK FUCKING FITZGERALD. There were enough babes around, and tonight, I was about to get thoroughly fucked. Tonight was all about me. And pussy. Fuck the DuBois’. Both of them. I’d go where I meant something, where I belonged…Victor’s.
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