by J. Gail
“In regards to Talisha Evans, Tyrone, you are NOT the father,” Maury said as Tyrone leapt from his chair almost breaking his neck on stage. The mother of the child ran off the stage crying.
“Yea, yea! I told you!! Didn’t I tell you!?!” Tyrone yelled at the cheering audience, who just minutes before were booing him. He did his ghetto dance on stage, a combination of the chicken dance and the perkulator before ‘peacing’ everybody and walking off stage to go taunt the mother.
“I knew that bitch was suspect,” Quanisha said to no one in particular. “See that’s why I can’t be going through all that, uh uh. I’m just not ready to be dealing with all that bullshit,” she said as she rubbed her tummy and looked down sadly. She shook her head at herself, because she couldn’t even be honest talking to her own self. The truth was, the three abortions Quanisha had in her teens had caused her to be unable to bear children, or at least carry them to term. She had been pregnant twice after the abortions and miscarried on both. The doctors were telling her that it was very unlikely that she would be able to have a child. It tore her up inside, and she would never admit it to her family and friends.
Just as she was becoming more involved in her sad thoughts, her phone started ringing. Making a beeline for the cordless in her bedroom, she picked up on the middle of the second ring.
“Hello!” she yelled into the phone, thinking it was Tony.
The person on the other line hesitated, so she said ‘hello’ again, even angrier this time, and finally the person spoke. “Uh yea Nish? This Scoop.”
“Scoop? Scoop, where’s Tony, he didn’t come home last night...” her voice trailed off as she realized that something must be wrong if Scoop was calling her instead of Tony.
“Yea, listen, don’t go all crazy on me aiight? But something bad happened to Tony and me last night...”
“What?!?” Quanisha half asked for an answer, half screamed.
“We got robbed, and it was bad Nish.” Scoop paused for a few moments trying to collect himself. “Tony was running off at the mouth and they beat him up, real bad Nish. Real bad.”
“So... huh? What... Where is he Scoop? Scoop. Please. Don’t tell me—”
“No, no Nish, he’s not gone but he don’t look good. He got some broken ribs, his face is really fucked up, and his eyes are sealed shut. He even lost some teeth they said. He’s at the Mercy hospital in Darby. It just crossed my mind to call you as soon as I got home and remembered I had his phone—”
“It JUST NOW crosses your mind? What if he woulda died overnight or something and you’re just calling me now!!” Quanisha screamed into the phone and then immediately hung it up. “Dumb ass niggas!! He knows my motherfucking number! Shit!” she said to herself as she grabbed some clothes out of her drawer. She threw them on, grabbed her car keys and ran out of the door.
Tony was laid up, with half of his torso, as well as his entire head, bandaged in thick white gauze. The doctors had him restrained on the bed so that he wouldn’t attempt to move around and do more damage to his rib cage. He couldn’t open his eyes past a thin slit and was in excruciating pain until the doctors knocked him out with several doses of very strong muscle relaxers. They had him in the intensive care wing of the hospital until he finished going through some tests.
When they brought him in the night before, he was still unresponsive. He hadn’t finally fluttered his eyelids a little until 8am that morning. The doctors took that as a very good sign, but were still unsure of Tony’s condition. In addition to losing a lot of blood and a few broken ribs, Tony had been hit in the head so many times that they were concerned about brain injury and were almost positive that he may have lost some of the hearing in his left ear.
The cops had questioned Scoop about what went down, but all he could say was that they had gotten robbed, and that the thieves had beat up Tony. He gave descriptions of Trek and Poo, but knew in his heart that there was no chance that the cops were going to track down those two and hold them accountable for this crime.
Tony’s door creaked open and in walked Jenny, bubbly as ever, with her hands in the pockets of her nurse uniform. She had asked to be specifically assigned to Tony’s room during his stay, claiming that he was her fiance. She was in bliss at the thought of personally nursing Tony back to health. She figured that when he did get on his feet they could be back together again.
Jenny walked over to the side of Tony’s bed nearest the door and sat down. She placed her hand on top of his hand, which was restrained at the wrist by his sides. Tony stirred a bit.
“Baby, how are you feeling?” Jenny asked, trying to sound like a mother. Of course, there was no audible response.
“Do you like the flowers I got you honey?” she asked, pointing up at the vase of flowers she had brought in for him early that morning. “Let me read the message I wrote to you.”
Jenny stood up and reached for the vase, grabbing a small card out of the top. She stood, leaning over his bed and began reading the card. “ ‘Anthony: They say that everything happens for a reason. Whether you’re well or whether you’re sneezing, you’re the reason for my breathing. And now that God has brought you to me again, I promise to love you like this paper loves my pen. Together with you forever; Love Jen.’ So poetic. I can hardly believe I wrote this! Even my name rhymes!”
Tony stirred again, and almost seemed to shake his head ‘no.’ Jenny continued talking.
“Baby, I mean what I said on this card. I love you, and I promise I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again. Once you are back to good health, which the doctors say could be a few weeks, you’ll move back into my house and I’ll get you a job here at the hospital. That way you can stay off the streets. You shouldn’t be among all that violence. Maybe we can get married. That way I can really take care of you the way you need me to, and then I can put you on my health insurance to help cover the doctor bills from this stay.”
Tony moved slightly and his eyes fluttered a bit. He mumbled something under his breath and then whined something out a little louder. To Jenny’s ears, it sounded as if he said the word ‘yes.’
“What was that baby? Did you just say yes?” Jenny’s heart jumped and she gasped as she threw her hand with the card still clenched in it up to her chest. “Oh baby, you want to marry me! I do too! I mean, no I want to marry you too!”
Tony tried to lift his head to make it easier to speak, but it only caused an excruciating pain in the back of his neck. When he dropped his head back down quickly, it looked as if he had nodded. Tony just closed his eyes and groaned in pain.
“Ooohh baby, do you need some more morphine?” Jenny asked as she upped his dosage. She reeled again at the thought of getting married. She was too far gone now – lost in her newfound fantasy. Reason and common sense were no longer playing a part in this situation. Jenny had been wanting to get married for too long to pass up this opportunity. Once she finished helping Tony, she started pacing the room as the thoughts raced through her mind.
“Wow Tony, I can’t believe this is actually happening so fast. So I guess I’ve got to get a dress, and book a church and tell the pastor at my church. I’ll get you the best tux out there Anthony, I promise you. The best money can buy. We’ve got to go get the marriage license first, and I need to do an invitee list. It can be something small and quaint.” She looked over at Tony with pure admiration in her eyes.
“Baby, you won’t regret this. I promise, I’m going to make you the happiest man in the world,” Jenny placed the card on Tony’s bandaged chest, closed her eyes and leaned over to kiss him on his bruised eyelids.
“What the fuck is this?” Jenny heard an annoyed female voice ask from the doorway. She jerked up and met eyes with an angry face. Jenny did a quick analysis of the woman. She was pretty in the face, wasn’t fat, but was about two McDonald’s quarter pounders from busting the seams on the tight white t-shirt and grey sweat pants she was wearing. She had long micro braids and looked like she was about to flip out.<
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Quanisha held her ghetto stance, crossed arms and all of her weight on one foot as she stared down the rail thin nurse that had just been kissing on Tony. “Just what the fuck kind of ‘service’ do ya’ll nurses be giving here? Why you got your lips on my man bitch?”
“Your man? I don’t think so. This is my man, we’ve been together for over six months. And I don’t appreciate you calling me a bitch, you don’t know me.” Jenny frowned and tilted her head to the side for effect. She lied about how long she had known Tony, knowing now for sure that this woman was in fact Tony’s ex-girlfriend Quanisha. She was willing to do whatever was necessary to get Quanisha completely out of the picture while she had the chance. Tony had told Jenny a few things about his ex-girlfriend during their short time together. Jenny had been afraid that Tony had gone back to Quanisha when he left.
“What? Bitch, you trynna catch a thumpin’ up in here! What the hell you mean that’s yo man?” Quanisha made her way over to the side of the bed Jenny was standing on. She pushed Jenny back towards the wall and glared her down. “You better get your little Mary Poppin’s ass away from my man, I know that.”
She looked down on the bed and saw the card Jenny had placed there not five minutes before.
“What the hell is this?” Quanisha asked.
“That’s not yours!! Give me that!” Jenny protested as Quanisha held her back with one hand and read the card with the other.
“Whether you’re well or whether you’re sneezing, you’re the reason for my breathing’? Girl what the hell is this?” Quanisha couldn’t help laughing.
“Stop it, that’s for Tony!” Jenny protested, but Quanisha just crumpled up the card and threw it in the corner.
“Look little girl, I don’t know what kind of fantasy world you’re living in, but this is MY man. He don’t deal with no Sally Sunshine bitches like you. He need a real bitch in his life and that’s me. Only me. Got it? Now get the fuck out of here, and get me some of those sweet hospital peaches or somethin.’ I love those things,” Quanisha sneered as she pushed Jenny roughly towards the door. She then pulled up one of the hospital chairs and sat down next to Tony. She had already prepared herself for this sight, and he actually didn’t look as bad as she first thought he would.
“Tony baby, I’m here,” she said as she tried to grab his hand. Tony’s morphine had kicked in, and he was now completely unconscious.
All of a sudden out of nowhere, Quanisha felt a hard blow to her back and she leaned forward to recover. She turned around and there was Jenny, holding a heavy hospital phone.
“Bitch is you crazy!!!” Quanisha yelled at the top of her lungs. She put her hands up in just enough time to shield herself from Jenny’s second attack.
Quanisha grabbed the phone and threw it against the wall. She stood up and slammed Jenny back against the same wall. Just as Quanisha was about to rear back and smack the shit out of Jenny, a husky black hospital security guard ran through the door and got between the two, pushing Quanisha backwards onto the bed.
“What in the hell is going on in here? Nurse Storms?” he said in reference to Jenny. “There is a patient in critical condition here!”
“This nurse bitch just tried to attack me with a phone that’s what!” Quanisha yelled, furious. She still had some blows to get in.
“Is that true Nurse Storms?” the security guard asked. When Jenny, who was looking like a mad woman by then with her hair flying out of the bun in her hair, didn’t answer, the security guard instructed them both to follow him to his office.
“But I’m here to see my man!” Quanisha protested, looking and pointing back at Tony, who was still slightly moving around on the bed.
“Ma’am I said follow me!” the security guard commanded and started walking towards the door.
Chapter 7
“What the hell do you mean you don’t got no money!??” Scoop’s wifey Shaquita screamed at the top of her lungs. She was definitely heard in the next apartment over.
“Baby…I… you don’t… listen—” Scoop struggled to find the words to put together. He was terrified of his girlfriend. At 5’11 with a solid stature, Shaquita could go toe to toe with most men. She could get very violent at times, and had a hair thin temper.
Once when she and Scoop first started dating, Scoop made the mistake of pushing her out of the way and telling her to “go on with that” when she innocently asked where he was headed. Before he could reach Shaquita’s doorknob, she had snatched him up from behind and slammed his face into the door so hard that his nose broke. Scoop learned soon after that that even though Shaquita could be the sweetest, quietest, most mild mannered woman at times, when you made her mad she came out of her shell swinging. Scoop worried that she might be bipolar or manic depressive.
“I don’t want to hear nothing you got to say out your slimy lying ass mouth! You know I was supposed to go shopping today!! I got Camille waiting at her house for me to pick her up! Now what am I gonna tell her!” Shaquita ranted. She was so close up on Scoop that he could see her tonsils as she yelled directly at his nose.
“Quita please, you ain’t giving me a chance to tell you what happened! I got robbed!” Scoop said as he backed up two steps.
“Oh is this your story? This is what you’re gonna tell me!! Camille is gonna be laughin’ at my ass, and the only story you can make up is that you got robbed!! Aaaaaahhh!!!” Shaquita lunged forward suddenly and pushed Scoop down into the arm of a nearby sofa chair. She caught him offguard. Before he had a chance to recover, she reared back and slapped Scoop so hard that he bit his tongue. Scoop hopped back up with his eyes watering and his face stinging around the outline of where Shaquita’s hand just was. He grabbed Shaquita by the arms to stop her from any more of the abuse. She writhed wildly in his grip, trying her best to reach her fingernails up to his face to scratch him. When that didn’t work, she stretched her neck forward and bit down on his nose with all of her power.
“Owwwwwwww!!” Scoop yelped as he finally let her go and got free of her teeth. He couldn’t believe that she had just bit him on the nose! When he grabbed it, he already knew it was bleeding, because he felt the blood droplets running down into his nostrils.
“That’s what you get motherfucker! Don’t you ever put your hands on me!” Shaquita ranted.
“You bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you! I was trying to explain, it wasn’t my fault! Some niggas robbed me and Tony!”
“Bitch? Oh I’ll show you a bitch, wait right there,” Shaquita said as she turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen. Scoop didn’t know what she was going in the kitchen to get—a knife, a pot, or the big turkey fork – but he wasn’t waiting around to find out. He hustled his way to the front door and shot out before Shaquita had a chance to reappear. As he ran down the steps of the apartment building he heard Shaquita yelling in the hallway.
“Scoop get your black ass back here! I swear if you don’t come back here right now Imma fuck you up real good when you come home! You better have my money!”
Scoop shivered a little as he finally emerged from the building and headed to his truck. He thought about why in the world was he still with this crazy female – he had over 10 women that thought he was their man running around the city. This type of violent episode happened way too often in their relationship. As soon as he climbed into his truck, he reached under the back seat to grab an old t-shirt he kept there and used it to stop his nose from bleeding. He hated to admit it to himself, but he was the victim of an abusive relationship that he just wouldn’t leave. He had battered man syndrome.
Scoop was aware that Shaquita knew all about his hoing around. There were way too many hang up calls at her house and short conversations when Scoop answered his cell phone for her to not be suspicious. But she hardly ever brought it up. She was one of those women that really didn’t care about her man cheating, as long as he was lining her pockets on a regular basis. But it was an unwritten rule that Scoop was never to bring any of his other women a
round Shaquita or stay out overnight. Those were the rules.
After three of Scoop’s other women got stomped in broad daylight from trying to approach Shaquita on the street about ‘their’ man Scoop, the word got around; ‘don’t mess with Quita.’ It wasn’t so much about a love thing for Shaquita as it was about flossing in front of her broke friends. She drove a white 2003 Infiniti Q45 courtesy of Scoop, who could barely afford the payments. She wore all of the top designers, and refused to put on anything that didn’t have an authentic brand name etched across the label. She owned over $10,000 worth of purses that she collected over the years from Scoop ranging from Gucci to Gharani Strok. Shaquita’s sole purpose for living was shopping, and if she went a week without going to her favorite mall, she went through withdrawal, usually at Scoop’s expense.
The problem was this. Scoop was going broke because of Shaquita and her habit. He could hardly afford to pay attention, and spent every moment outside of his flings working overtime to satisfy all of Shaquita’s desires. His job paid well, but not enough for Shaquita. So he had started selling drugs on the side. He had worked his way up to distributing to the lesser dealers on the block, and was trying to move up his position with the help of a dude he ran with on the streets who they called Rock. Rock was one of the only Puerto Ricans who had lived in the heart of that black neighborhood in Southwest Philly all his life. As a team they were doing enough sales to give the major players confidence in consigning them more and more weight at a time, but still only just enough to meet Shaquita’s needs. Scoop felt good about his current position on the streets, but was wary of Rock. Sometimes he didn’t trust him, and feared that Rock would get sick of splitting their profits two ways, especially since Scoop spent a lot less time on the block. It was no secret that Rock did more work than Scoop, and had even suggested on one drunken St. Ides Malt Liquored up occasion that Scoop should only get a 30% cut. That suggestion ended up in a brawl between them at the bar where they were drinking, and a night in lock up at the local police station. However, after sobering up they worked out the disagreement and the profits continued to be split in half for each of them. But now Scoop knew exactly what was really going on in Rock’s mind – a drunk mouth tells no lies.
