by Anna J.
I had the number to his home, cell, and office, and I wondered briefly if Sheila would answer the phone at the courthouse. Still knowing the number by heart, I dialed the ten digits that could possibly connect me to the answers I needed. To my dismay the phone continued to ring, and I really hoped that maybe I had dialed the wrong number by accident. When the district court answering machine finally picked up, I hung up in disgust. After all, it was a week day; why wasn’t anyone picking up?
Chancing a look outside, I immediately got my answer. Overnight the city got covered with snow up to our ears. I couldn’t believe the amount that had fallen in that little bit of time. Trust and believe I did not miss all of this mess. Turning on the television to see what was going on in the world, I didn’t need Fox News to tell me that the city was shut down. Such an inconvenience.
As I listened to the television, I gazed through the menu to see what was offered for breakfast. I contemplated whether I want to hit the judge on his cell phone, but I really didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t sure if he was with his wife and kids, or if he would throw shade since I didn’t make it to the city the last time he wanted to see me. I also didn’t know how much access he had to city business from home, but it was worth a shot. Just as I was going to pick up the phone, something on the news definitely got my attention. A car wreck flashed across the screen, followed by a picture of Jasmine. Grabbing the remote, I turned the volume to the max:
“Prominent Philly lawyer Jasmine Cinque has been reported to have been in an accident that has her in the ICU. Due to the quick dropping of the temperature last night, it appears that her car spun out of control and smashed into a utility pole in the Bala Cynwyd section of Philadelphia after slipping on an ice-covered roadway. The medics had a hard time getting to her due to the inclement weather, and had to use the Jaws of Life to extract her and her five children from the wreck. It has been said . . .”
At that moment my mind went numb. Jazz almost died? Or did she die? Wait, the newscaster didn’t say she was dead, so she’s still breathing somewhere. What happened to the kids? They didn’t say anything about the children, and when I opened my eyes to look at the TV they were showing footage of her car wrapped around a pole, and you could see the medics trying to open her car like a can of tuna.
I was instantly sick, and had to rush to the bathroom before I vomited all over my nightgown. What happened? Furthermore, why was she out in that mess yesterday? Jazz hated driving when the ground was wet, so I needed to know what or who forced her out yesterday in the midst of a storm. My eyes burned from the tears that I refused to let roll down my face. Damn, did I still love this chick? And where the hell is James? They didn’t say anything about his whereabouts. Did they divorce? Maybe that was the reason why I couldn’t get in touch with either of them.
Pacing back and forth, I knew I had to get out of this hotel and on the street. I needed to see about renting a car, and I needed to call the hospitals to see where they were. Wait a minute . . . let me slow down and think rationally. I needed answers, and being in a panic was not going to help.
The ringing from my cell phone startled me out of my thoughts, and I dived across the bed to catch it before it stopped, wondering who it was. The only other person who knew I would be in Philly was my sister, and I hadn’t spoken with her since I landed so I hoped nothing happened. I wrapped up business before I left Atlanta so I knew the call wouldn’t be directly related to that either.
“Hello?” I answered without looking at the screen. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Did something happen to my sister? Was it a company issue? Did someone break into my house and the alarm company was contacting me? All kinds of bad thoughts ran through my head as I waited for the caller to respond.
“Hello, stranger.” The voice came through the other end and I couldn’t help but smile.
“What a pleasant surprise. I was just thinking about calling you.”
“Is that so? My wife told me she saw you in the hotel lobby checking in yesterday, and it made me wonder what brought you back home.”
Was it coincidental that just the person I needed to talk to was calling me? When I changed my number I made sure Judge Stenton, among others, knew how to reach me for whatever reason. Hell, he was a very influential man to keep around. Aside from spectacular sex, he donated a lot of money to both my art gallery and Safe Haven, a girls’ home for teenagers who had been sexually molested.
“And she didn’t say hello? That’s odd.”
“So what are you doing back here?” he asked, cutting the small talk short.
“Well, for some reason I’ve been getting the checks back that I send out to the Cinques, and . . .” I explained everything to the judge, even what I just saw on the news about Jasmine being in the hospital. I needed answers, and I needed to know what was going on.
“As far as your son goes, Monica, you gave him up so I don’t know what can be done there unless he’s being abused. What exactly do you want from them? They stopped accepting your checks? So what! They just may have needed to move on, and didn’t need a constant reminder of the role you played in their past.”
“But they were cashing them up until recently. It doesn’t make sense,” I screamed into the phone. He tried to make it seem like I was the crazy one, but in knowing the people I was dealing with, I knew there was more to the story than that.
“How long are you staying here?” the judge asked in a nonchalant voice like he was done with talking about the issue. We were going to talk about it, but I had to play things cool if I was going to use him later. I had to make him think we were doing things on his terms.
“As long as it takes.”
“Okay, you can’t possibly stay in a hotel that long so as soon as the streets are cleared and I can get out I’ll have a car come to get you. You can stay in the hideaway until you get what you came for. For now, just lay low. The city is shut down, so you can’t go anywhere anyway.”
“Thanks for everything. I owe you one!” I said into the phone as I calculated what my next move would be.
“You sure do, and I plan to collect on it. We’ll talk by the morning.”
After I hung up with the judge, I decided to at least put something in my stomach as I continued to watch the news. Jazz’s story was top news, and I was just waiting for James to show his face. I knew I would need to speak with him, and I wasn’t too sure if I was ready for all that. After all, I did wreck what was left of his marriage and dropped an unwanted baby on him. His reaction to me being here would determine if I kept my cool. Hopefully he would just be cool about it and give me the answers I needed. I had no problem going away quietly like I was never here, provided that everything was in order. Now, if it was not in order, then the circumstances of my visit would not be pleasant.
Ordering breakfast was a breeze, and I was elated to see that fine-ass bellhop when I opened the door. He must have held a couple of jobs at the hotel, but I wasn’t mad about his hustle. I opened the door wider to invite him in to set up my food in the kitchen area of the suite. Damn he was fine, and I know you’re thinking how I could be thinking about sex at a time like this. Easy, my pussy had a mind of her own and she liked to be fed as well.
“Are you the dessert?” I asked him in a seductive voice as I came out of my robe and stood there naked, allowing him to take in all of my curves. He looked like he had hit the jackpot! His eyes seemed to glaze over, and the way he licked his lips was like he was ready to eat me up.
After securing the door, I sauntered over and climbed up on the counter, putting my pussy at mouth level. All he would have to do was bend at the waist and taste it. He seemed to be in shock, so this had obviously never happened to him before. He would surely tell the entire hood about it later on. Grabbing him by the collar and pulling him closer, I leaned back on my elbows to balance out.
“Eat up,” I practically whispered to him. Sparks shot through my body when his tongue connected with my clit, and I knew I was going to wear hi
s ass out before he left. I just had to dig out my condom stash from my luggage and it would be on. That didn’t mean I forgot about Jazz and James. I’d most definitely be dealing with them later.
James
Live at Five
Since Jazz was a prominent lawyer in the Philadelphia area, I was asked to speak to the public on her behalf, giving everyone an update of her condition. The conference was scheduled to be held later in the day. The city was snowed in overnight, and I was starting to get cabin fever since we were all stuck in the hospital until the cleanup of the city was over. Between trips to the cafeteria, and avoiding the looks of hatred I was getting from Jazz’s family, I was ready to blow this joint. True story. It wasn’t until the doctor left that Jazz’s father decided to clue me in on my children’s whereabouts.
“So where are the rest of my kids?” I asked once again when Jazz’s dad walked into the room. After getting over the initial shock of seeing my wife in her condition I needed to do a headcount of everyone else.
“The kids are with their grandmother at your brother-in-law’s house. All of them were discharged shortly after they came in, except for Jordan due to his injuries,” he explained in a sympathetic voice.
“So why did it take so long to get an answer? I’ve been asking about my kids since last night!” I came back even more frustrated.
“James, you needed to focus on one thing at a time. Trust me, it was for your benefit.”
I looked at him like he was crazy. I was guessing that he had already talked with the doctor about who would break the news to me about my son, but it pissed me off that he waited this long to even say something to me. I could have gotten this info on the ride over here. The look on his face had me holding my breath, and I broke down in tears when he told me that all of the kids were okay, but Jordan was in intensive care in the children’s ward of the hospital. Children’s Hospital was in the next building, but because of the time they came in and the extent of the injuries they kept both him and my wife in the same facility. He asked the doctor to allow him to tell me because he figured I probably wouldn’t be able to handle dealing with both Jasmine and one of my kids being near death at the same time. That was hilarious to me that he all of a sudden was concerned about how much I could handle, considering they tried beating me to a pulp not too long ago.
I fell to the floor in a barrage of tears as I curled up in a fetal position wondering what I had done that was so bad that the karma would come back and destroy my family. I mean, I wasn’t a monster. I wasn’t molesting little kids, and robbing banks or anything like that. I just stepped out on my wife sometimes to be with other women, but what man didn’t? Did I really deserve all of this? I asked God why this was happening, and I needed answers now!
“Mr. Cinque.” I heard the doctor’s voice as I gathered myself from the floor and sat back down in the chair to catch my breath. “Mr. Cinque, I’m sorry about all of this, but I need to talk to you about your son. I’ll need you to come with me.”
I didn’t have the energy to respond, and on weak legs, I got up and managed to drag my body down the hall after him. It was like my body was numb, and I couldn’t form any logical thoughts. I wanted to break loose from this place and go back to the day before yesterday so that I could do it all over again. I thought about making a break for it and jetting from the hospital, but where would I go? Jazz’s family would just come find me and beat the shit out of me again. I just wasn’t ready to deal with all of this, and although I was sure leaving the situation wouldn’t make it better I just didn’t want to be around. I needed a do over.
When we got to the doctor’s office, I took a seat in one of the leather chairs that sat in front of his desk. Eyeing the photos of his family that were strategically placed around his office made me sad. The smiling faces of his wife and kids made me pray even more that everything with Jazz and Jordan would come out okay. I just couldn’t take any more bad news.
Looking through the file, the doctor looked like he was trying to formulate the right words to let me know what was going on with my family. I wondered if he ever cheated on his wife. From the pictures he looked to be in love and living a happy life, but I knew enough to know that a picture didn’t tell the entire story. A picture was just a snapshot, a brief moment in time that was captured by chance that we could never get back again. It wasn’t real life, it was just a moment.
“Mr. Cinque, your son will need a blood transfusion,” the doctor explained in a sympathetic voice. “Since your wife is already in a fragile state I’m suggesting we get the blood donation from you as opposed to getting it from the blood bank and risking your son contracting hepatitis down the line,” he explained to me. I could see the sorrow in his eyes, and I wondered briefly if it was genuine or if he was just doing his job.
“That’s not a problem. How is my son doing? Can I see him?” I asked, trying to control the tears that made my chest ache all over again.
“You can see him, but I have to warn you that there are a lot of tubes exiting his body. He is on a breathing machine as he cannot breathe on his own from the puncture wound that has been fixed in his right lung. He got the worst of the damage because his side of the car was the side that struck the pole and was wrapped around it.
I felt like I was going to pass out. I wasn’t built for this kind of shit, and I knew I had to get some strength from somewhere to deal with it. Accepting a tissue from the box the doctor held in my direction, I got myself together so that I could handle my business. I had to be strong for my family.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done so far. Can I please see my son now?” I asked in a voice that I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, I’ll take you out to see your son, but we need to stop past the outpatient lab first to collect your blood so that we can get it ready for him. Do you know your blood type?”
“No, I actually don’t,” I responded, feeling stupid that I didn’t know that information. I didn’t regularly donate blood or anything like that, and before now I had no real reason to be up on the kind of thing.
“No problem, we get that a lot. We will get all of that information once we send up the samples.”
I followed the doctor into a sterile lab that was on the next floor down, where several tubes of my blood were taken. They could have taken every drop of blood from my body at that moment if it would save my son. I remembered it like it was yesterday when I saw him come into the world. His tiny hands and feet, and those eyes . . . it was something about him that I just couldn’t place, but the joy of seeing him replaced all of the questions I had in my head. Our family had grown, and that’s all that mattered.
The phlebotomist expertly drew my blood, and I could tell she tried not to stare at the scars on my face. When she inquired if I was in the accident I just told her I was to keep down the confusion. She didn’t need to know my business. Once I was bandaged up I was escorted to my son’s room, where the doctor waited for me outside. The curtains were drawn so that I couldn’t see inside, and I was grateful for that. I wasn’t prepared to just walk up on him like I had been forced to do with Jazz. I needed to get myself together for this one.
“Mr. Cinque—” the doctor began, but I cut him off.
“Please, call me James,” I insisted.
“James,” the doctor continued with a look of concern on his face, “your son is in critical condition, but he is stabilized. You’re going to get emotional, but please be aware that although he is sedated he can still hear you. I’ll be standing right out here if you need me.”
He gave me a reassuring smile, and backed away from the door, allowing me to enter on my own. I stood at the door, trying to steady my breathing and brace myself for the unknown. I never imagined having to see any of my kids like this and the shit was really tearing me up on the inside.
When I opened the door tears flooded my eyes, and my feet felt stuck to the floor. If I could only trade places with him. There were tubes everywhere pumping different colored
fluids into his little body. The machine that controlled his lungs made a soft swishing sound and a small beep permeated the air every so often. My baby . . . he was only four years old. If he didn’t come out of this alive I couldn’t possibly keep living.
As I finally crept toward him I wondered what Janice would do without him. They’d been joined at the hip since conception, and moved like synchronized swimmers, often finishing each other’s sentences. She was too young to understand death, and I hadn’t the slightest clue how to get a four-year-old to understand that her best friend would be gone forever.
Placing those thoughts aside, I went over and took my son’s small hand into mine. Looking into his swollen face, I could hardly recognize him beyond the bruises. He had his mother’s lips though, and I leaned down to brush my lips against his cheek to let him know I was there. Placing the chair next to his bed, I took a seat and leaned into the bed so that I could whisper into his ear. I needed him to come back to me as soon as possible.
“I love you, son,” I began, getting choked up immediately. “And I want you to know that we’re all waiting for you.”
I held his hand as the tears cascaded down my face and wet the side of the bed. I promised God that if He pulled my wife and my son through this I would be the man He intended me to be. I had promised Him this many times before, but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I had to get my family unit back together.
“Mr. Cinque.” A nurse came to the door, interrupting my racing thoughts. “The news vans just arrived. Do you want to get cleaned up a little bit? One of your associates from T.U.N.N. brought you a change of clothes for the press conference.”
Looking down at my son, I gave him a kiss on the cheek, hoping it wouldn’t be my last. Letting his hand go, I followed her to a private room where I was able to shower and change my clothes, afterward meeting back up with Jazz’s family right outside of her room. There was nothing I could do about the black ring that had formed under my right eye, or the scratches along the side of my face and neck, and at this point I didn’t care what the media thought. I just needed to update the world on my wife and keep it moving.
