by Shelly Ellis
Melissa shrugged. “It’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be. I’m fine with it though. Really!”
“But you two were together for so long!” His mother went silent. Alfreda Lighty, who usually couldn’t stop talking, for once in her life looked unsure of what to say next. “Well, honey, I’m . . . I’m glad that you and Jay have stayed friends. I hope he’s supporting you through all of this.” She grabbed Melissa’s hand and squeezed it. “Breakups can be hard. I hope Jay is making you feel better.”
Melissa smiled again. “Oh, he is! So much better! I can assure you of that.” She then gave him a conspiratorial glance.
Jamal thought back to the sex marathon they’d had only two days ago and knew Melissa was thinking about it, too. He almost snorted at their inside joke, but caught himself.
“Well, I was gonna head out to get some lunch. I’ll let you two catch up for a bit and when I come back, I want you to tell me everything you’re doing now and how your family is doing, Melissa.” She squeezed her hand again and then looped her purse over her shoulder before walking out of the hospital room.
When she left, Melissa turned to face him. “You’ve been having a rough couple of days, huh?”
“Tell me about it!” Jamal chuckled.
She reached for the bouquet and grocery bag sitting on one of the pleather chairs. “I brought you flowers.” She surveyed the room. “But it looks like you have plenty of those. I also brought you some white cheddar popcorn—your favorite! I figured no one else would think to bring that.”
“No, no one else would,” he said, loving her even more for such a simple but thoughtful gesture. “It’s perfect.” He patted a spot on the bed beside him. “Come up here and share it with me.”
She frowned as she walked closer to the edge of the bed. “You sure? Is that even allowed?”
“Yeah! Just lower the bed rail.”
She did as he told her, following the instructions to lower the hospital bed’s rail. She climbed onto the bed, sitting near his side. She ripped open the bag of popcorn and offered it to him.
“Can you feed it to me?”
He still had use of one of his hands, but he liked the idea of her feeding him again. He licked the cheddar off her fingers as she placed it in his mouth, making her giggle before she popped a couple of pieces into her own mouth.
“So what kinda bum-ass luck do you have, to get punched one night and robbed and shot the next day?”
He shook his head as he chewed. “It had nothing to do with luck. I wasn’t robbed. That kid wanted to kill me.”
“Who the hell would want to kill you, Jay?”
“I can think of someone . . . and I’ll tell the police as soon as I get out of here.”
She fed him another kernel. “Is this the stuff you didn’t want to tell me about? The stuff you said could have goons coming after me?”
He nodded. “But I think it’s okay now.”
“You think?”
“The kid made his attempt and failed. He was arrested. They’re probably questioning him. I don’t think the person who did this will risk trying it again. It’s too hot for them right now.”
“But they might.”
“I don’t know.”
“Should you get protection . . . a police guard, then? Will you have to start carrying a gun?”
“I don’t know, Lissa. I hope not.”
“Jesus,” she whispered, raising her hand to his face, running her fingertips along his brow and bruised cheek. Her feathery touch made his heartbeat kick into overdrive. He was sure she could hear it beeping on his monitor. “This is crazy! You know that, right? You could’ve been killed!”
“I’m well aware.”
“And you aren’t even sure if you’re safe now. This might not be over. God, you’re making me a nervous wreck! What am I going to do with you, Jay?”
Love me as much as I love you, he wanted to say, but didn’t because he knew how sad and desperate it sounded.
“Don’t die on me. OK?” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. “I’m gonna be pissed if you die.”
“I’ll try not to.” He stared at her full lips. “So can I get a real kiss?” he asked hopefully, making her giggle again. “I know I’m in a hospital bed and hooked up to IVs, but I swear I can take it!”
She leaned forward and kissed him again, running her tongue over his bottom lip this time. He wrapped his hand around the base of her neck to hold her against him, opening his mouth and meeting her tongue with his own so the kiss could deepen, forgetting the hospital room, and the nurses, doctors, and patients outside his doorway. Alone with Melissa, he forgot the world around them.
Chapter 7
Derrick
When the steel doors to the elevator opened, Derrick stepped onto the hospital floor—and immediately wanted to step back onto the elevator.
He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to have to walk into Jamal’s hospital room with his hat in his hand, ready to eat a giant helping of humble pie, especially only two days after punching Jamal in the face in front of almost a hundred people. But that is exactly what he would have to do today.
Derrick needed to talk to Jamal about Cole. He had to explain that the boy’s own life and the life of his family had been under threat when he’d shot Jamal, and that was the only reason why he’d shot him. Maybe, if Derrick explained Cole’s predicament well enough, Jamal would have sympathy for his plight. Maybe then Jamal would convince the prosecutor not to be so hard on the boy and seek a lesser penalty than what usually came with an attempted murder charge.
And beyond the stuff about Cole, Derrick knew he and Jamal had their own unfinished business to settle. They had been friends once. He, Jamal, and Ricky had been as close as brothers for nearly two decades—but within the past year that had all gone haywire. Jamal getting shot and almost killed was a reminder that time was guaranteed to no one. Derrick didn’t want to waste it fighting and arguing.
Derrick made the slow trek down the hall to the recovery ward, taking a deep, steadying breath as he did it. The cops had told Derrick what ward Jamal was in, but he didn’t know Jamal’s hospital room number.
He halted in front of the octagonal-shaped nursing station where several nurses in green scrubs stood around talking, laughing, or staring down at clipboards.
“Uh, excuse me,” he said, drawing one of the nurses’ attention—an Asian woman with her hair in a bun.
She turned to him and smiled. “Yes! How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Jamal Lighty. I know he’s on this floor, but I’m not sure which room.”
She nodded and turned to a chart that was posted next to a computer on the counter. “That would be room 2455, sir.”
“Thanks,” he said before strolling down the corridor. He passed a few rooms before arriving at room 2455, practicing what he would say along the way. When he finally reached the open door, he raised his hand to knock on the metal frame, but halted when he caught view of the interior of the hospital room.
He saw Jamal sitting up in his hospital bed, reclining against pillows with his shoulder and left arm in a sling. Jamal was surrounded on all sides by bouquets of flowers and balloons with messages that said “Get Well” and “Thinking of You!” Melissa was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning toward him, whispering something. The two laughed, and she leaned forward and gave him a light kiss. Jamal said something more, wrapped his free hand around the base of her neck, and kissed her again, tugging her closer so that the kiss could deepen.
Watching them, Derrick swore he saw his vision go red. He gritted his teeth. He clenched his fists. He felt his heartbeat accelerate.
Despite all his regrets for lashing out at Melissa and Jamal at the education gala, despite him insisting to Morgan that he didn’t want to rekindle his relationship with is ex, Derrick was still flooded with rage. He wanted to charge into the hospital room, yank the couple apart, and start punching Jamal all over again. He wanted to tak
e the vases filled with flowers that sat on his hospital tray and along the windowsills and throw them at the wall and Jamal’s head.
But the rage was nothing compared to the sense of betrayal he felt watching Melissa and Jamal kiss with a passion and ease of a couple who had done it many times before. That part was indescribable. She used to be his fi-ancée. Jamal used to be his boy. How long had they been doing this? When had their relationship started? Had there been an undercurrent of attraction flowing between them for years and he’d been oblivious? Had they been flirting or even hooking up with each other behind his back the whole damn time?
Fuck this shit, Derrick thought bitterly. Fuck the both of’em.
Within an instant, he forgot the entire reason why he had come to the hospital. Derrick just wanted to get off that floor, through the hospital’s automatic doors, and far away from here before he did something stupid or something else violent. He backed away and turned on his heel. By the time he reached the elevators, he was at a near run.
Derrick didn’t know how he’d made it back to his car in the parking garage. His journey was a blur of red-tinged fury. He could have bumped into a few people along the way—he couldn’t say—but at least he hadn’t hit anyone.
As soon as he climbed inside, Derrick closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to his steering wheel, taking several deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. When he finally felt the rage ease its grip on him, he heard his cell phone chime.
“Shit,” he murmured, contemplating letting the call go to voicemail.
He didn’t want to talk to anyone, not in the state he was in, but it could be another emergency. Maybe something else had happened at the Institute.
What else could go wrong?
Derrick grumbled, leaned back from the steering wheel, and tugged his cell from his pocket. When he did, he saw Ricky’s number on the screen. He hadn’t talked to him in the past couple of weeks. Ricky seemed preoccupied with something, which wasn’t surprising, considering how much drama he had going on in his life since his arrest in December.
Derrick pressed the green button and raised his phone to his ear. “Yeah, what’s up, man?”
“Shit, Dee, I’m so glad you answered! I thought you might be busy and I wouldn’t catch you. You got some time?”
“Yeah, I got a few,” he said, looking around the hospital parking garage. “What’s up?”
“I got a favor to ask you, bruh.”
Derrick shook his head, still trying to mentally drown out the memory of Melissa and Jamal kissing in the hospital room. “Now is not a good time, Ricky. I’ve got a lot of shit going on and—”
“I’ve got a lot of shit going on, too, Dee. More than you could imagine. Trust me! And this is a favor I need for you to do. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.”
Derrick frowned, not liking how desperate his friend sounded. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I gotta explain when you get here. I’m not a fan of saying incriminating shit over the phone.”
“Incriminating? What? What the hell did you do now?”
“Look, I just need you to go to my place and pick up some things for me. You still got the spare key I gave you, right?”
“Yeah, back at my place,” Derrick said warily. “But you told me to use it only in case of emergencies. Is this an emergency?”
“You could say that. I need you to go to my wall safe in my home office. I’ll text you the code to get in it. But I need you to take everything out of there and bring it to me, and I mean everything, Dee. Don’t leave anything in there. That part is important.”
Derrick’s frown deepened. The more he heard, the more suspicious he became.
“So after I get all your shit, where am I supposed to bring this stuff? Where are you?”
“I’m in Chancellor. It’s not too far from Fredericksburg. I’ll text you the address, too.”
“Fredericksburg, Virginia? Nigga, that’s over an hour out of the city!”
“Yeah, it’s a scenic drive, too. You should like it,” Ricky said with a laugh.
Derrick grumbled again.
“Look,” Ricky began, sounding somber, “I know it’s a long drive, Dee, and I’m asking you to do a lot. But again, I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important. I’ll explain everything when you get here, but for now, you’re gonna have to trust me. Okay?”
Derrick closed his eyes. He had trusted Jamal once, too. He had thought their trio would hold each other down forever, and it hadn’t turned out that way.
But Ricky ain’t Jamal, he thought. And just because one of his boys had betrayed his trust, that didn’t mean the other would.
“All right, man. Give me some time to do this shit. I probably won’t be there until the evening.”
“Thanks, Dee. You my nigga! You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I’m your nigga,” Derrick said tiredly. “See you in a few hours.” He then opened his eyes and hung up.
Chapter 8
Derrick
Three hours later, Derrick pulled onto a black asphalt driveway bordered on both sides by ceramic geese and toads, garden gnomes and tulip-shaped mini windmills. The two-story house was made from cedar planks and had a wide wraparound porch with a railing decorated with potted plants and brass wind chimes that swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.
Derrick reached for the duffel bag sitting in the passenger seat. He hesitated for a few seconds over whether he should bring it with him, but decided to grab it anyway.
When Ricky had asked him to bring everything that was inside his wall safe, he had anticipated the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills that he’d discovered along with the envelope filled with credit cards under false names. What he hadn’t expected were the three handguns—a Magnum and two Glocks—and several clips that Ricky had been storing there, too. When Derrick saw them, his blood ran cold. He instantly got a better idea of what kind of mess Ricky had stepped into, and he suspected it had something to do with Dolla Dolla. All bloody roads seemed to lead back to that man.
Derrick shoved open the car door and climbed out. When he did, the screen door to the house swung open and slammed shut with a thwack. A petite white woman with long gray hair stepped onto the porch with her hands on her hips.
“Who are you?” she barked. “Why are you on my property?”
Derrick hesitated again. He glanced at the number on the wooden mailbox. This was the address that Ricky had given him. So who was this woman?
“It’s okay, Mary,” he heard Ricky call out.
Derrick saw his boy step into the doorway. He was smiling. A slumbering infant in a short-sleeved onesie and diaper was perched in Ricky’s arms.
Ricky didn’t look like a man who needed three guns and ammo; he didn’t look like he needed anything. He seemed perfectly satisfied.
“He’s the friend I told you about,” Ricky continued to casually explain to the old woman as he patted the baby’s back gently. “He’s okay. He’s just here to help.”
“Help?” she muttered ruefully before shaking her head, sending her long, ratty ponytail swaying. “I’m terrified to think what he’s about to help you do, but I’ll stay out of it. I’ll keep my word,” she said, easing past Ricky and stepping back inside the house.
Derrick shut the car door and climbed the porch stairs. “Who was that?”
“That’s Mary. Don’t mind how she acts—she’s cool. She delivered my son.”
“Your son?”
“Yeah, I told you Simone was pregnant. She gave birth yesterday.” Ricky pointed to the sleeping infant cradled against his chest. His smile widened into a grin. “Meet Miles.”
“Oh, shit,” Derrick whispered in one exhalation as he stared down at the infant. “You’re a father?”
“Yeah, I know,” Ricky said with a chuckle. “I never thought it would happen, either. Though I’ll be honest. With how many women I’ve bagged over the years, it should’ve.”
“Congrats, man,” h
e said, giving Ricky a fist bump.
“Thanks!” Ricky turned around and gestured Derrick forward with his free hand. “Come inside. Did you bring the stuff?”
Derrick sighed and held up the duffel bag. “Yeah, I brought it. But I hope you don’t use this shit, bruh.”
Ricky paused in the doorway. His smile disappeared. “I hope I don’t have to, but I will if it comes to that.”
“This is some serious shit, Ricky. I know you’ve run with these types of dudes in the past, but this ain’t you. We’re fighters, not shooters.”
“Not anymore,” Ricky said, adjusting as the infant began to squirm.
“Huh?”
“I said not anymore,” he repeated as the baby began to whimper softly. Ricky met Derrick’s eyes. “I’ve done what I had to do to protect me and mine, Dee. And I ain’t scared to do that shit again.”
Derrick squinted at him. “You mean you . . .” His words drifted off as it settled in. He realized exactly what Ricky was saying. “You can’t mean that you—”
“I mean let me hand Miles over to Simone. It sounds like he’s hungry, and we need to talk. Come on.”
Derrick nodded as they stepped into a cluttered living room filled with a hodgepodge of furniture. They walked through it into a brightly lit kitchen.
“Hey, I heard him all the way down the hall,” a female voice called out as Derrick pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.
Derrick turned to his right and saw a woman in a loose-fitting sundress striding toward them. She had a pretty face, large, almond-shaped eyes, and glowing nutmeg-hued skin. Her short curly hair flopped along her forehead and ears as she walked.
So this is the mysterious Simone, Derrick thought.
This was the woman who Ricky had fallen in love with, who had turned his life upside down, and had him doing things that Derrick never would have thought in a million years he would do.
“Yeah, I think he’s shouting for dinner,” Ricky said, lowering Miles from his chest and cradling him lovingly. He kissed his son’s forehead and handed over the squirming infant to his mother.
“He’s always hungry,” she said with a laugh before turning to Derrick, extending her free hand. “Hi, I’m Simone. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Derrick. Ricky has told me so much about you.”