Ari looked serious as he came closer. He leaned and whispered in my ear, “Yo, Vince, they tried to hit Tyriq a few hours ago. But they missed him and killed Bones.”
“You serious…?”
“I heard some Jamaicans pulled him out of the car and sped off.”
“Good looking out,” I said.
“No doubt,” he replied walking off.
The news had me thinking. Tyriq being alive was bad for me. But who set up the hit, I wondered. It wasn’t me. Someone beat me to it. I wasn’t complaining. It was inevitable that the bubble would pop soon and spill over. I wasn’t the only enemy Tyriq had.
I knew that I had to get back to Queens right away—Philly was becoming a war zone, but the drama and violence in Queens was just as
bad.
Lil’ Goon did eighty on the Jersey Turnpike. I was in the passenger seat trying to call Shae for the past hour or so. She wasn’t picking up and that had my stomach doing cartwheels.
“She ain’t picking up?” Lil’ Goon asked.
“Nah…fuck is wrong wit’ this bitch,” I cursed, speed dialing her number.
I had enough problems with Cashmere. The bitch was wilding the fuck out. Before I left, she had screamed on me, shouting, “What bitch you fucking in New York?”
“Yo, you need to chill wit’ that jealousy shit, Cashmere,” I said.
“Fuck you, Vince! I know you fuckin’ some bitch! Why can’t I come to New York with you? Huh? You leave me here, carrying your fuckin’ seed in me, why you in New York sticking your dick in other bitches! I hate you!”
She started throwing shit at me. “I’m gonna get you fucked up, nigga! Don’t play me, Vince!”
“I ain’t fucking wit’ you,” I had yelled.
“I ain’t stupid. You think I don’t know you fucking that bitch, Cherie and the next bitch, and the next bitch,” she continued in a jealous rage. “You think I can’t go to the police and tell them everything about you? Keep playing me!”
I pushed her against the wall with my hand clenched around her neck. My patience was exhausted. Every time I’m in Philly, it was the same shit with her. Her insecurities were really starting to bother me.
“You gonna do what, bitch? You keep your fucking mouth shut about my business. I don’t give a fuck if Inf’s your cousin. I’ll crush you and that nigga like that…I ain’t the one to fuck wit!” I screamed.
“Fuck you!” she cursed spitting in my face.
I lost control of myself and punched her. She shrieked and fell to the floor, crying. I glared down at her, ready to murder her. She held onto her stomach and screamed up at me, “You dead nigga! Nobody ever puts their fucking hands on me!”
“Yo whateva!” I replied walking away.
It was a mistake striking her, but her mouth had pushed me over the
limit. I left her there lying on the floor, crying and cursing at me. I thought to myself,
why did I get this fuckin’ bitch pregnant?
I was caught up in good pussy and she hooked me up with a high-quality connect in the city. In the long run, she was a fucking headache and I couldn’t deal with her attitude and mouth anymore. I had enough problems.
We got to exit ten on the turnpike and Shae was not picking up. Maybe she was pissed off because I hadn’t returned any of her phone calls in the past three days.
“Yo, this bitch better be dead, cuz if she ain’t, I’m gonna fucking kill her myself,” I barked.
“Yo, she’s just probably upset, Vince. Give her time,” Lil’ Goon said.
I tossed my phone on the floor and sat back in my seat, peering out the window. After exit twelve on the turnpike, my cell rang. I quickly picked it up and saw that it was Chandra calling my phone.
“What the fuck this bitch want, now?” I said out loudly.
Lil’ Goon glanced at me and kept the Escalade moving
“Hey, what you calling for…? Everything good…?” I asked.
“Vincent, where are you?” Chandra asked, but her voice seemed somber.
“Philly, why…?”
“Your mother had a stroke last night.”
“What…?”
“She’s at Marry Immaculate hospital.”
“Why the fuck didn’t anybody call me last night!”
“Yo, everything good, dawg…?” Lil’ Goon asked. I ignored him and continued with my conversation.
“We tried, but for some reason, we couldn’t get through to you,” Chandra said.
“Is she okay? I mean, she’s alive right?”
“She’s in bad shape, Vincent. You need to go see her,” Chandra said. “Your aunt Linda is at her bedside. You need to be there.”
“I’ll call you when I get into Queens,” I said and hung up.
“Yo, Vince, what’s goin’ on?” Lil’ Goon asked again.
“My mother had a stroke last night.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, my dude. How is she?”
“I don’t fucking know!” I snapped.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you there in no time,” Lil’ Goon said. My mind was elsewhere.
I stared out into the turnpike and couldn’t help but worry about my mother. I haven’t seen her in months. The last time we talked was on Christmas day. I tried to hide my grief from Lil’ Goon with my head turned from him thinking, what kind of son abandons his mother. I should’ve been there for her instead I was sucked in by the streets. The sudden guilt overwhelmed me.
I was ready to put my hand through the glass and explode. Lil’ Goon was doing eighty down the strip. For me, it wasn’t fast enough.
“Yo, hurry this shit up!” I shouted.
“I don’t wanna get pulled over,” he replied.
“I don’t give a fuck! Drive nigga!” I shouted.
He shrugged and accelerated to a hundred miles per hour, flying. I got to Mary Immaculate hospital late that evening and dashed from the truck. Running into the hospital, I passed security to see my moms.
“Sir…sir, you need to stop at the front desk first,” security instructed, chasing behind me.
“What the fuck you say?”
“If you’re here to visit someone you need to see the receptionist first.”
“Yo, my mother just had a stroke,” I told him.
“I understand your concern…but its protocol. You need a pass before you can go up. Just see the young lady in the front,” he said calmly.
I didn’t say a word. I walked to the front desk, gave them the information they needed, got my pass and headed to the sixth floor.
I stepped out on the sixth floor with my heart beating with so many worries. I clutched the pass in my hand and made my way down the hallway looking for room 606. I screamed hustler in my butter soft leather coat, diamond and platinum chain swinging around my neck, diamond earrings in my ears, designer jeans and fresh timberlands on my feet. I left my gun in the car with Lil’ Goon.
At room 606, I hesitated in going inside and took a deep breath. I glanced around and hated hospitals. It was full of death, sickness and the weak. I hated to see my mother in such a weakened condition. I’d known her as a strong, vibrant and confident woman who kept a positive attitude. She believed in God.
I slowly made my way into the room and heard the soft humming of the machines plugged into her. The room was silent and eerie, it made my skin itch. I moved further into the hospital room and saw my mother lying still in the bed with her eyes closed. It looked like she was resting instead of sick.
I tried to fight back the tears. But it was useless. I stared at her and hated seeing her like this. It looked like she aged a bit over the months. Her long stylish gray hair was thinning out. She looked like a vegetable lying there.
“I’m here, mamma,” I said holding her hand.
I looked at her, wishing she’d wake up giving me her words of encouragements like
everything’s going to be alright
. I took her for granted and wished I never did. Now I wanted to be there for her.
Tears trickled down my cheeks, as I held her hand gently. I thought about my father and wished I had his strength. He knew how to handle a tough situation and was there for the family when my grandmother died.
I felt helpless, looking at my mother lying there and I didn’t know what to say or do. For once, I wished I knew how to say a prayer for her, my mother was always praying for me.
“Mamma, I’m sorry that I’ve been away for so long. But you and pops always knew the right words to say and knew how to handle things. I can’t lose you too, mamma. I love you and I know I fu… I mean, messed up. I wanna make things right. I missed you and you need to fight this. I need you in my life. Your grandson needs you,” I sadly proclaimed.
I continued to talk to her, hoping she would wake up. I needed a second chance and my mother in my life.
“Vincent,” I heard my name being called from behind.
I turned around and saw Aunt Linda standing in the doorway. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and was surprised to see me.
“Aunt Linda,” I said.
“It’s been months…did Chandra call you?” she asked.
“Yeah, I got word today. How’s she coming along?” I asked.
My aunt sized me up. Her eyes stayed focused on the bling. She walked up to me and said, “So, you finally take time out from the streets and come see your mother. It’s been months, and we’ve been worried sick about you. You don’t come by and now you’re showing some concern?”
“Aunt Linda, please…not here,” I said.
“Then when, boy…when are you goin’ to get some sense into you? You’re mother is dying in that bed because of you,” she spat.
“What?”
“Since you left, all she did was worry about you and pray for you. You were her only son, and you walked out on her to give yourself to sin and the streets. Look at you, dapper down in that devil’s jewelry and living in the devil’s way. I understand that it was hard, not working and raising a son…but not only did you give up on her and your son, but you gave up on yourself. Why do you wanna be out there poisoning our community and abandoning hope for yourself, Vincent?”
I was in tears and the burden that was fucking me up. Aunt Linda chastised me like I was some small boy being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I was sorry but my words were muted in the room. Aunt Linda walked over to my mother’s bedside and placed a bible near her.
The doctor walked into the room and said to us, “Hello, I’m Doctor Fermat.”
“What’s wrong wit’ her?” I asked horridly.
“Vincent, let the man talk,” my aunt chimed.
“She had what we call a hemorrhagic stroke. It’s a result from a weakened vessel that ruptures and bleeds into the surrounding brain. The blood accumulates and compressed the surrounding tissue. We’re prepping her for surgery, but her chances of survival… are bleak,” Dr. Fermat grimly informed us.
I wanted to cry. I looked over at my aunt and her expression indicated she wasn’t ready for this.
Dr. Fermat continued to talk, but I wasn’t listening. I was too upset and needed some air—death was something that was becoming far too familiar with me—my father, Spoon, now possibly my mother. Without saying a word
to anyone, I just walked out the hospital room in a hurry.
“Vincent,” I heard my aunt calling out. “Vincent…Vincent!”
I ignored her calls and kept it moving. I skipped pass the elevators and went for the stairs. I rushed down the steps two at a time, reaching the front lobby in no time.
I jumped in the Escalade. Lil’ Goon was waiting out front of the hospital.
“How is your mom?” he asked with concern.
“Just fucking drive,” I said. “Take me to Rochdale. I gotta go see Shae,” I said.
Thirty-Six
I got off the tenth floor and made my way to the apartment. I felt my life spiraling out of control and didn’t know how to put it back together.
I wanted to move Shae someplace safe from the war zone. I couldn’t handle losing someone else that I loved.
It was after nine when I walked into the apartment. The place was dark and silent. I pulled out my gat and moved to the bedroom looking for Shae. I cocked the .45 and called out, “Shae, where you at?”
“Shae,” I called out again.
My heart began to race. I gripped the gun tightly and slowly entered the master bedroom. It was empty—no Shae and none of her clothing were in the closet.
“This bitch left!” I uttered incredulously.
I looked around the entire apartment and it indicated that she definitely packed up her shit and bounce on a nigga. I got upset. I wanted her to leave, but not like this. I walked back into the bedroom and tossed my gun on the bed. I went over to the mini bar and poured myself a drink. I walked out to the terrace. It was late March and cold still lingered in the air. I peered out at the vast Queens from ten stories up and couldn’t help but miss Shae. She was gone from my life, giving me no hint that she was leaving. I felt that I had nobody—the richer I became, the more people I started losing from my life. I had no friends left, and barely saw my son. Chandra was a married woman. My mother dying was the straw.
I looked down at the ground from ten floors up and thought how easy it would be to just jump—end it all right now. I was sucked into a world that
was draining me.
Reminiscing about the past brought a few tears. More money caused more problems. Biggie wasn’t lying about that. I became a powerful and respected figure in the drug world but my climb to the top was very costly. I won some and lost many.
I took a sip from the Hennessy watching dusk engulfed the neighborhood.
How would I die?
I asked myself. I wondered if my end would be violent by the hands of a one-time friend. My end wasn’t going to be pretty. I remember my father used to say to me
, you live by the sword and you’ll die by the sword.
I heard someone at the front door unexpectedly. I got nervous and dropped the glass, running for my gun. Is this it, I thought.
I pointed it at the bedroom door and heard movement in the living room. The person was getting closer. I felt my body getting on edge. I was not going out without a fight. My finger against the trigger I was ready to squeeze.