Natural Born Hustler (11 page)

“We can talk about who was wrong or right later,” she said, walking away. “But right now I need a shower and something to eat.”

Feeling disrespected, even more so by Desember turning her back to him, Fame leapt from his chair.

“Don’t fucking turn your back to me in my house!” he yelled. “What? You trying to go wash some nigguh off you before you come near me?” he accused her. “You think I’m a fucking clown or something?” He grabbed her shoulder.

“Not until you started talking like one,” she barked back. “Now I’m not too sure who you are.” She could see the hurt and anger in his eyes and face, but Desember didn’t give a damn at that point. She wanted to hurt him the way he had cut her with the remark about sleeping around. “A real man,” she continued, “wouldn’t have to ask where his wifey spent the—”

Before he realized what he had done, Fame had slapped the only woman he’d ever loved. He instantly regretted his actions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …”

Desember was stunned momentarily. He hadn’t put his hands on her in anger since they were in middle school.

Before Fame could get his apology out, she was clawing at his face and eyes like a wild animal, a woman trying to protect herself.

Fame knew he was wrong, but now all he could do was try to defend himself from her punching, scratching and kicking.

They were making so much noise that one of the neighbors, probably old lady Connie, called the police. Fame was never so happy to see the law in his life, because when it came to Desember, he was a lover, not a fighter.

By the laws of North Carolina, once the police are called and have to intervene during a domestic dispute, someone has to leave the house, and if there’s violence involved, someone has to take a ride in the squad car.

In this case, after the police saw the damage done to Fame (mostly from Carson’s house) and the light mark on Desember’s face from the slap, there was only one thing to do. Neither wanted the other to go and both admitted that it was their fault, but the police still hauled them both away.

The cells were six feet by nine feet: green walls, a steel rack—painted the same color as the walls—posing as a bed, and a stainless steel toilet/sink combination thingamajig. There was a huge light on the wall over the toilet, and a vent that pushed cold air in even though it was the early winter.

There were only four of them in the entire miniature police precinct. For the past forty-five minutes, Desember had been housed in the cell closest to the front, Fame in the one next to hers. The town drunk occupied the one farthest to the back. He
would be there six to eight hours, sleeping off his latest attempt at killing himself by way of Cold Duck.

Deputy Jock was fifty-four years old, but could still wear his military uniform from when he had joined the army at eighteen. His black low-cut shoes were spit shined and his brown deputy digs were cardboard crisp. “The magistrate wants to see you at the same time,” he said, pulling them both.

The magistrate was sitting in her closet-sized office: a wooden desk, a file cabinet and a picture of Ground Zero from when the Twin Towers were destroyed in New York.

“How are you two doing today?” asked Magistrate Dobbson. She was 44 years young, her blond hair wrestling with gray and her figure reflecting a penchant for good cooking. After both Fame and Desember said they were okay, she lifted a paper from her cluttered desk. “Famis Maurauder and Desember Day,” she read from the warrant. “You two like to beat up on each other, huh?”

Desember tried to explain first how they had just had a misunderstanding and nothing like this had happened before, Fame agreeing to whatever she said. They only wanted a bond and to get out of there.

“Well,” Magistrate Dobbson said, gazing at them both to try to see if they were being honest with her, “from the looks of it, things got pretty ugly. Domestic violence is no small matter. Something I’ve never tolerated, and I don’t intend to start now.” She gave them a lecture.

Fame looked at Desember, wondering what the hell they’d gotten themselves into.

“This is what I’m gonna do,” the magistrate continued, “I’m gonna give you a two-thousand-dollar cash bond, each …”

Then she hit them with the whammy when she said, “I’m
going to implement a mandatory restraining order on the two of you for a period of four weeks. Maybe this’ll give you kids a chance to think about something besides hitting each other.”

“But we live together,” Desember protested.

“Not for the next four weeks you don’t.”

Revelations

12.
ICU

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when someone entered the chapel, snapping Desember out of thoughts of her and Fame’s relationship over the past few months.

Despite feeling like ten-pound weights were fastened to her eyelids she raised them. Unaware of the hours that had lapsed since her arrival at the hospital, Desember tried to wipe the sleep from her tired eyes so they could better focus on the two people standing before her.

Her eyes adjusted to the light and as the two people moved closer, she recognized Nurse Shelia, who had given her the change of clothes, with a doctor wearing blue surgical scrubs in tow.

Desember thought maybe she should stand to hear what the doctor had to say, so she tried to rise to her feet. “Stay seated,”
the doctor said in the voice of a man who had been tirelessly working to save a life, or lives, all night and was inured to the long hours. She knew that he was there to bring her the information that she’d been anxiously awaiting … or maybe dreading.

Desember didn’t know what to think. An array of emotions raced through her mentally and physically drained body: fear, hate, anxiety, and hope as she waited to hear what the doctor had to say. She studied his lips, and the words seemed to be coming out of his mouth in slow motion, maybe because she was so eager to hear what he had to say, words that would impact the remainder of her life.

“We removed the bullets but they caused a lot of internal damage.” The doctor never lost eye contact with her as tears filled hers. “Because of the inflamed damage, we had to leave his abdomen open, which could cause infection.”

A teardrop of happiness rolled down her face. He was going to live.
She knew it
. He was going to live!

“The next twenty-four hours are crucial. We’re really worried about infection setting in.”

Desember sobbed, but in her heart she felt the worst had passed.

“He’s a real fighter,” the doctor said, encouraging her hope.

“When can I see him?” she managed to ask him between sobs.

“He’s going to be in the intensive care unit in a short while and you will be able to see him.”

As soon as Fame was moved into the ICU, Desember sat patiently on one side of the bed, his mother on the other. Since
Francine still didn’t know the details surrounding the shooting, she didn’t have much to say to Desember, but she could sense that the girl loved her son.

At the twenty-fifth hour since the shooting, Francine asked, “Do you want to go to the cafeteria and get something to eat?”

For a brief moment Desember took her eyes off of Fame to address his mother. “No, ma’am, I’m good.”

“Do you want me to bring you something back?”

“No, thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite.” Desember’s stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and eating was the furthest thing from her mind.

“Well, I’m starving and need to smoke a cigarette.” Francine grabbed her change purse, which seemed to double as a cigarette case, and began to exit the room. “I won’t be long,” she said, looking over her shoulder.

After a while Desember tried to concentrate on a crossword puzzle, but when she looked up and saw Fame’s eyes flutter open, she rose, thinking that she was imagining things. His eyes looked weak, straining to focus, but it was a blessing that they were open. She was so excited to be able to face the love of her life again. His eyes searched hers. “I love you soooo much, Fame,” she whispered to him.

With the breathing tube in his mouth, he could only give her a smile and a nod. He was trying to say something with his hands. “What’s wrong, baby?” Desember asked, not wondering if the movement of his hand was a side effect of his surgery. Not knowing what else to do, she pressed the call button.

A nurse came in and checked his vitals. “Looks good. He’s just regaining control of his muscles.”

Once the nurse was gone, Fame’s eyes never left Desember’s, and it was clear he had something on his mind. With the
index finger of his right hand and the palm of his left, Fame made a gesture as if he was writing. It clicked that he wanted something to write with. He was trying to communicate. She grabbed a pad and a pen off the bedside table and placed them in front of him.

He fumbled with the pen at first, dropping it, but after she put it back in his hand he began, a little shakily, to write something. When he was done she took a look:

U n danger!

And underneath that:

U gotta lay low!

She shook her head. “I’m not leaving your side.”

But Desember knew Fame had a point. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized she could be in danger. To be honest, she didn’t care. She could take care of herself. All her focus was on Fame and him pulling through.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said.

He started writing again:

Can’t take that chance. Love u 2 much!

His eyes were not trying to take no for an answer. The man could be so damn stubborn.

“Okay,” she somewhat relented. Then she went on to tell him how the police and his family all thought she had something to do with the shooting.

He started writing again. She could tell it was taking a lot out of him, but he continued.

Don’t TALK to police or no one
.

“I didn’t—and don’t worry, I won’t,” she told him

Just then Francine walked in. “Oh my God, Famis. Thank you, Jesus,” she said, her hands clasped together. “I was so worried about you.”

Fame gave his mother a smile, then started laboring with the pad and pen again to resume the shaky writing.

“What’s he doing?” his mother asked Desember.

“He can’t speak yet,” said Desember, “so he’s writing what he wants to tell us.”

This time Francine read the note:

Need ur help
.

“Anything, son, you know that. What is it you need?” She was so excited that he was awake that she wanted to run out and get his siblings, but then she remembered that the doctor had made clear that no more than two people were allowed in Fame’s ICU room.

They were both watching as Fame continued to scribble on the pad. This was the longest message yet. It took him awhile to complete it.

D is n danger. Watch her back. Nothing can happen 2 her
.

I love her 2 much. It will kill me
.

Francine knew that Fame probably had a gut feeling that his brothers already had the girl’s grave dug. She slowly nodded, with tears in her eyes, and then she took her seat by the bed as Desember stood at Fame’s side. For the next couple of hours she watched as Desember administered tender loving care to her son.

Desember was gently wiping Fame’s brow when he reached up and grabbed her hand. She had thought he was asleep.

Instead, Fame had been thinking about who his attacker might have been, but the exercise proved futile. He had gotten out on too many people, and now someone had caught him slipping. It was part of the game. Once he regained his strength, if he could put a face to the person, or persons, who had tried to assassinate him, he would look for his get back on general principles. But right now, while he lay helpless, his concern was for Desember.

He picked up the pen and paper and started to write again. When he finished he watched as Desember read the note.