“You shouldn’t have messed with Tanner,” I chided.
Sensing the wrong turn things had taken, she tried to respond . . . explain.
Tried.
Hard to speak when acid is being doused in your face . . . the eyes in particular. Yeah. Lorenda left some good cleaning supplies behind when I ran her off. A little mix of this and that and it was sure to do the job.
Bianca was being played by this bitch. Somebody had to have her back.
I walked off whistling, leaving Rory screaming in agony as she grasped at her face, her world permanently dark.
23
HENRY
I
’d checked out of my hotel as soon as I blew the game last night. One final charge on my credit card. The last twelve hours of ducking and dodging had me spent.
I had no appetite, but needed to keep up my energy. I quickly chewed the sausage croissant, rubbery as it was, and swallowed. Lurking in a parking lot behind Burger King was not a top choice for someone accustomed to dining at places lacking a ninety-nine-cent menu.
Either formulate a plan or fight,
I deluded myself. I was worthless in a fight and knew it. My desperation was tearing me apart, weakening my rationale like a thread being unraveled by some invisible hand.
Somebody walked over, spooking me. I spooked them in return when they realized my car wasn’t empty. They quickly retreated inside the restaurant before breakfast ended. The attention I’d craved when I bought the car was becoming a hindrance. I had to get rid of it soon. When I’d pulled up, it elicited “What is he doing eating here?” stares from the underpaid counterpeople. They just didn’t know. If I survived this mess, I might find myself telling them to make room behind that register.
Survival.
Can I take your order?
To wake up with the King or to go to sleep with da fishes.
Great choices for someone formerly on the fast track in corporate America.
“Yep. Kash is going to kill me,” I affirmed in my mirror. I’d overcome the panic attacks. My encased hand had been steady for the past hour. Maybe I was becoming resigned to my fate.
Still, I didn’t want to die.
But my mama didn’t raise me for this kind of bleak existence either. I needed to call her. Have that final talk. Tell her I loved her.
My phone vibrated again. I’d tired of the rings through the night. Too many calls, too many debts coming due.
Either Kash or one of his boys, from the number shown. I let the call roll over. Another for the voice mail I’d never check.
I left my car to throw the Burger King bag in the garbage. As I returned, I noticed a black truck as it drove down Forsythe. It looked like any other except for the expensive rims that attracted attention. Like a pair of diamond earrings on a professional athlete. There I went again—thinking about games.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I thought nothing at first as the truck kept moving. Then it slowed, making my heart skip a beat. I almost broke into another panic attack . . . almost pissed all over the fine Italian fibers.
Glad I held my bladder, I watched the truck continue on to its destination. Like that old Geto Boys song I used to jam in college, my mind was playing tricks on me.
I entered my car again, thinking of my next haphazard destination. Eventually, I needed to get to my apartment. Maybe grab some more stuff and run out of town.
The phone vibrated again. Just once this time. Puzzled, I decided to look. Maybe they were giving up.
It was a text message. Three words or three letters . . . if you wanted to call them that. Nonetheless, a message understood: ICU.
He’d found me. I was trembling again, weeping like a baby as the emotions finally overwhelmed me.
I didn’t want to die.
I turned the key and my car revved to life. The howl of its engine let me know I was still alive. I mashed the accelerator and sped out of the parking lot, clipping a Corolla as it backed up.
On Forsythe, I instinctively turned against the flow, veering recklessly toward oncoming traffic on the one-way street. In my rearview mirror, I saw three large men scrambling among cars in traffic. The black pickup had pulled over a block away.
They’d just missed me.
Only one person could help me now. And it called for being even less of a man than I’d been lately.
Rock bottom turned out to have another level completely.
I didn’t even know if she was home.
But I would wait.
Where was I in a hurry to go?
I wiped my eyes and jumped onto the turnpike.
Please be there, Pumpkin.
24
BIANCA
I
remembered seeing an ambulance in the gym’s parking lot, but had had no idea. I regretted not walking her out and hoped she would forgive me.
“Try not to disturb her. She had to be sedated,” the nurse offered before allowing me to enter. I hated hospitals. Nothing good ever happened there, as far as I was concerned. I offered up a prayer before cracking the door.
I could smell the antiseptic in the air as soon as I entered.
“Hey,” Tanner whispered. He was standing at Rory’s bedside. He was the one who had reached me with the news. I had just opened my boutique for business when he called. Honestly, the man knew everything that went on in this town. He appeared visibly shaken. I was going to have to be the strong one this time.
Tears filled my eyes as I gazed upon Rory. I’d intentionally avoided looking at my best friend for this very reason when I first entered. A gurgle escaped my throat as I choked up. Tanner came around the bed to hold me. His comfort was uncommon but welcome.
She was so still. An IV was inserted in her arm, the bag dripping medication into her system. Gauze and bandages smothered the top half of her face. Her normal pouty red lips looked pale, dry, and brittle. If she were awake, she would be looking for her lipstick. If she could see it . . .
If she could see.
“Who would do such a thing?” I asked as I wept openly over my friend’s condition. “This is evil.”
“Couldn’t have been a robbery,” Tanner replied in his analytical manner. He fought to remove himself from the emotional equation. His way of dealing with it. “They didn’t take anything. But why go after her face?”
I lifted my head from his chest and looked toward Rory again. “Not her face,” I said. “Her eyes. It looks like they caught her eyes.”
“I still think they were trying to ruin her face. Maybe she ducked or turned away.”
“Maybe,” I said, fixated on the gauze held in place with medical tape. So sad. I walked over and took her limp hand in mine. “Her kids. Has anyone checked on them?”
“Yes. The hospital reached the nanny. She’s staying with them. Do you know any of her relatives back in Seattle? They should know.”
“No. We never really talked about them. I think her mother’s still there.”
“Oh,” he remarked, fumbling through a difficult moment. He wanted so badly to take charge. “Well, if there’s anything your friend needs, I’ll pay for it.”
I turned to look at this stranger, my eye alight. “That is so sweet of you, dear. You’ve really surprised me. Thank you.”
He just nodded. “I’m going into the hallway. Give you two some time alone.”
Rory’s hand twitched at the sound of Tanner’s voice. A response. With him gone, I tried speaking. Maybe she’d hear subconsciously.
“Rory, it’s me. Bianca. Don’t worry about a thing. Just get better. Okay?”
The readings on her monitor began jumping. She was probably fighting the drugs.
“Tanner’s here too. We just want you to rest. Everything will be all right.”
I stroked the back of Rory’s hand, trying to soothe her. She began fidgeting. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but it was slurred and distorted. More sounds than words. Her readings went crazy.
The nurse must’ve noticed at the monitoring station. She came rushing in, looking concerned, before I had a chance to alert her.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Something has her disturbed. Maybe you should come back later.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
Rory’s readings spiked as soon as I spoke.
“What’s wrong?” I asked the nurse, who’d turned her back to me to administer aid.
“Probably a reaction to the medication. Or maybe she’s having a bad dream. Wouldn’t be a surprise, considering what happened to her.”
I took a final look, then walked out.
Tanner stood outside, talking with a doctor he’d corraled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing the look on my face. The doctor scurried on to his rounds.
“I don’t know. I told her I was there and she started freaking out.”
“Hmm. Did she say anything?”
“I think she was trying to speak, but I couldn’t understand.”
Tanner’s interest was unusual, but I gave up trying to fathom the workings of his mind. At least he was here rather than holed up in meetings. No time like the present—I proposed something.
“Maybe her kids should stay with us? At least until some of her family can be located.”
Tanner’s face looked strained. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he answered with a question. “You know what’s happening Wednesday—my appointment to the mayor’s committee. And Lorenda’s gone, thanks to
whatever
foolishness occurred.” His face accused me of that one.
“Yes, but . . .”
He was relentless. Knowing I was on the ropes, he pressed. “And do you have any experience with kids?”
“Well, no. But it’s a good idea. Maybe get some practice in for when we—”
He stopped me. “Let it go, Bianca. You know that’s a touchy subject.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure we’ll be able to one day.”
He just shook his head. “Look, I need to get back to the office. Let me get you home first.”
“But—”
“You’re doing her no good right now. You can always return this evening.”
“I need to get back to my job.”
“I’m sure that girl . . . um . . .”
“Deonté,” I reminded him.
“Yes. I’m sure Deonté is more than capable of running things in your absence.”
“And I’m sure your board of directors is more than capable of the same. Come home with me. And stay. Please.”
I watched him trying to form a counterpoint. He packed it in early, conceding. “Okay. I need to be there for you. Let’s go home. Together.”
He kissed me tenderly, then led me to the elevator cradled in his arms.
25
HENRY
A
fter my last time lumbering past the entryway, the doorman began acknowledging my presence ... and his displeasure with me. I’d lost count of how many times I’d paced the block.
“May I help you?” he asked what must have looked to him like a crazed stalker—disheveled, wrinkled, and in desperate need of a shave.
I didn’t answer, poorly pretending that I hadn’t heard him and that I hadn’t been the same troubled soul he’d been seeing for the past hour. I’d left my wrecked sports car in an alley a few blocks away. I really could use another bottle of Scotch now, but needed to keep my faculties.