by BlaQue
I sat up and wiped the sleep that had gathered in the corner of my bloodshot eyes. I knew Crack and Queen weren’t there on a social visit. It seemed like they were never here on a social visit anymore. They only came around to badger me about shit I didn’t think was any of their business. Just because I stayed secluded in the guest house on their property did not give them the right to intrude on my privacy. I paid my rent from my royalties and that’s all that should matter.
I looked from Crack to Queen who were both looking at me with so much pity and disappointment in their eyes. I guess if I managed to give a fuck long enough to look at myself in the mirror, I could see why they looked at me with so much disgust. I had let my life go completely downhill. Day in and day out for the past seventeen years it had been the same thing. I would drink, smoke and stay in seclusion. I was living off of the little royalties from the album I released right after the birth of my daughter.
As the thoughts of my baby girl filled my hazy mind, I felt the need to drink. Drinking and smoking were the only things I could do to drown out the guilt I felt every time I thought about what I had done.
After I found out about NiQue and her mental issues and almost lost my life because of the craziness she and her family had involved me in once again, I got ghost. I didn’t want anything to do with anyone associated with the Reynolds-Clayton Family. That included my own daughter, YaSheema Nicole. That family was severely fucked up; from the head of their empire Darnell Clayton down to his murderous children. Well, I guess I should say child, because to my knowledge, they were all dead with the exception of my daughter and her uncle Neko. Either way, I wanted nothing to do with any of them. None of them meant me any good and the further away they were from me, the better off I would be.
With thoughts of my crooked extended family fresh on my mind, I reached over to the nightstand in hopes of finishing the bottle of Ciroc I had from the night before; but before I could wrap my hands around the bottle, Queen popped my hand like a mother does her disobedient child. She nodded her head in the direction of the half-dressed woman who was slowly trying to come out of her drunken stupor.
“You deal with this because I can’t,” Queen said to her husband and threw up her hands in defeat.
My female companion finally got her shit together and exited the guest house with Queen on her heels. I knew Queen wasn’t going to be right until the questionable woman was off of her property.
With Queen and my company gone, I was able to reach for the bottle of Ciroc without being judged. Taking a long swig from the bottle, I sat there waiting for Crack to say whatever Queen had sent him to my house to say. Right on cue, Crack started in on me like I knew he would.
“Dunny, how long are you gonna’ do this to yourself? You’ve been doing the same thing for the past seventeen years and you ain’t got shit going for you,” Crack scolded.
“You haven’t recorded anything. You’re not even trying to do anything with yourself. Then what’s up with your daughter man? I know we went through some horrible shit a few years ago, but you can’t keep walking around through life pretending like it didn’t happen. Drinking, smoking and fucking these basic bitches isn’t gonna’ change any of it,” Crack continued.
I just kept on taking long gulps of Ciroc that burned the back of my throat, but I knew that burn would be replaced with the euphoric feeling I got when I was high or drunk. That’s all I needed and all I wanted.
“You can’t keep slowly killing yourself like this.”
I didn’t say a word to Crack. Instead, I took another long swig from the bottle I was nursing, hoping it would eventually rock me back to sleep. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel. I only wanted to drown my sorrows in the bottom of the bottle I was holding.
“See, that’s the shit I’m talking about Dread! You’re hold up in my fucking guest house. You’re bringing basic bitches to my property. You don’t know these hoes. You’re bringing them too close to my wife and kids. This isn’t what we agreed on. We were always in this for the music and the money. Somewhere along the lines, this shit went to the left because you let your dick get you in a bunch of trouble and now you’re running away from your past like a bitch. Don’t you know that the shit you went through with NiQue, YaYa and even that crazy bitch Pinky should be your motivation to do something? That shit would have made me grind harder for this music shit. Instead, you are in my guest house fucking hoes, drunk, high and not giving a fuck about the people who invested time and money on you. You got my wife breathing down my back. Dread, you know you’re my man fifty grand, but I gotta’ put my foot down. You’re starting to interfere with me getting pussy from my own wife and that ain’t gangsta. Look, I know you went through some rough shit back then, but don’t let that defeat you.”
Crack is lucky he’s one of my oldest friends. I wouldn’t take anyone talking to me like that except him. I think it hurt more coming from him because everything he said was the truth. I didn’t even have a snappy comeback for him. I just sat there gawking at him while I held the bottle. Crack pulled up a chair and cracked open a blunt. My mouth watered as I watched him empty the guts of the cigar into the overflowing wastebasket and repack it with some Purple Haze.
“Dread, I’m working on some new ventures. I want you to get your shit together so you can be a part of them,” Crack said, handing me the freshly-rolled blunt.
I didn’t hesitate in taking the lit blunt from his hands. “Crack, you know you my boy and everything, but I ain’t interested in getting back in the limelight. I think I have had enough of being on stage. I think that’s how I got in this mess anyway,” I said, taking a long, deep pull of the potent weed.
“I’m not talking about you performing. I’m talking about you doing some voice over work and maybe ghostwriting some projects from some up and coming acts I managed to pull in. In case you haven’t noticed, the rest of the world is still moving forward and it’s leaving your black ass behind. Come on and get some of this money. Write a few hooks, sell a few rhymes and make a few dollars. No one will even know it’s you. You can stay in the background,” Crack said.
I took the last sip from my bottle and tossed it to the side. “I don’t think I’m ready for all of that. I’ll tell you what…I’ll think about it. How’s that?” I said greedily taking the blunt from Crack.
“Naw man, there is no time to think on it. It’s either you’re in or you’re out. I hate to say it bro, but if you’re out, then you’re all the way out. That includes my property. Queen isn’t gonna’ take too much more of your late nights, girls, drugging and boozing. She gave me an ultimatum: either you get your shit together or we both gotta’ go and I ain’t got any plans on leaving my wife and family because you can’t get pass your past.”
Now I was furious. Crack was acting like we didn’t build Cap Citi together. He was acting like I was worthless. Hell, I paid my rent to stay in their two-bedroom guest house and my checks always cleared when they went to cash them. All that noise he was making wasn’t about anything other than him being afraid his wife was going to hold out on giving him some ass.
When he tried to pass the blunt to me, I shook my head in defiance. “Naw… I’m good. If you and Queen want me out, all you got to do is say the word and I’m out,” I said, finally getting out of the bed and stumbling to the bathroom. I didn’t bother to close the door behind me. Crack could do us both a favor and just leave.
When I finished my business, I fully expected Crack to be gone; but he wasn’t. As a matter of fact, he was still sitting in the same spot rolling up another blunt.
“You’re still here?” I stammered. The Ciroc early in the day had my head spinning and all I wanted to do was crawl back in my bed and sleep. It was too early for me to be up and it was damn sure too early for me to be going back and forth with Crack over what his wife had said.
“Yeah, I’m still here! The better question is do you still want to be here?” Crack said, standing up. I let out a sigh of relief b
ecause from the looks of it, he was done lecturing me and I was glad. Crack walked to the door and took another look back at me and shook his head, and then he walked out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the windows shook.
I lay back on my bed thinking about all that Crack said to me and as much as I hated to admit that he was right, he was. I absolutely hated who I had become. I had turned into an alcoholic loser, and to top it all off, I was a deadbeat. I sat back up and fished around in my nightstand and pulled out the only thing I had left that should have meant something to me. It was a picture of my daughter the day NiQue and I had brought her home from the hospital after she was born. I had long since cut NiQue out of the picture because I didn’t want to be reminded of her. I couldn’t even look in her face I was so disgusted with her. It was bad enough my daughter looked just like her mother and aunt. She had the very same grey eyes her Uncle Neko and her Aunt YaYa had once possessed.
The picture brought up so many painful memories and my past indiscretions that I tried to mask with alcohol, drugs and sex with random women.
“I’m gonna’ do better, baby. I promise. I’m gonna’ get my shit together. When I do… hopefully you can forgive me for leaving you. I had no choice. I was hurt. I know it wasn’t your fault, but I didn’t want to fuck up your chances of having a normal life. Lord knows I seemed to fuck up every single female’s life I entered and I didn’t want to do the same to you,” I mumbled in a drunken stupor.
I slumped back in the bed and dissected the picture of my daughter who I knew nothing about. I lay there wondering who YaSheema Nicole was and if she was like me and if she even knew who I was. I held on to my daughter’s picture until I drifted off into a drunken slumber.
Chapter Four
Pinky
Grudges
It’s raining outside. I hate when it rains. Every time it rains, my old battle wounds ache. I haven’t been the same since someone cut the brake line on my Ducati on that fateful night many moons ago. I was lucky I was able to walk away with my life back then. I guess I could take a few aches and pains here and there now since my life had been spared. The doctors called my survival and recovery nothing short of a miracle. Since the day I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with all kinds of tubes and IVs coming out of every available spot on my body, I haven’t been quite right.
Seventeen Years Earlier
When I first opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that my body was bandaged from head to toe. The next thing I noticed was the officer who was looking at me like I was the second coming of Jesus Christ himself. She wasn’t dressed like a cop, but I surely recognized that badge swinging from her neck. I knew if she was in plain clothes that she was most likely a detective and that couldn’t have been a good sign. Detectives only show up when some serious shit happened; and as far as I could remember, I had been involved in plenty of serious shit. My mind wasn’t that cloudy.
I tried to speak to the officer and ask her how I had gotten there, but the thick plastic tube that was lodged down my throat wouldn’t allow me to talk. I watched the young officer rush out of the room; I wanted to call after her and beg her not to leave me alone. I had never been fond of the police considering the line I work I was in, but anyone who could tell me how I had gotten there was a friend of mine.
Moments after the young woman left my room, she returned with what looked like every available nurse and doctor on the ward that was on duty that morning. The doctors and nurses immediately started asking me how I felt and if I knew where I was. All I could do was nod my head up and down as they worked to remove the tubing from my throat.
Once they removed the hard plastic that was restricting me from talking, I tried to sit up. That’s when the pain shot through every nook and cranny of my body. I fell back on the bed wincing in pain when my body hit the firm hospital mattress. The nurses were all busying themselves with checking my vitals. The doctor, along with the police officer, approached my bedside. Once the nurses were finished doing whatever they were doing, they left us alone.
I was still nervous to have a police officer that close to me. After all, I had tried to kill Dread and I knew that he was still alive. For all I knew, the police were there to lock me up for attempted murder. I had never thought twice about taking someone’s life. It was never personal. It was always business. This was the first time I had tried to kill someone on a personal level and I felt like trying to kill Dread may have backfired on me.
I lay there in the bed waiting for the officer to slap cuffs on me; but instead, she took out a notepad and the doctor began asking me a series of questions.
“Ms. York, do you know where you are? You don’t have to speak if you can’t just yet. Just nod or shake your head to respond.”
I cleared my throat and tried to speak. My throat was scratchy from the foreign object that had been lodged down my esophagus for God only knew how long.
“I know I’m in a hospital,” I managed to croak.
“Good. Well Ms. York, my name is Doctor Gandy. You are in G.W. Hospital. You took a nasty spill on your bike a few weeks back. I must say it’s amazing that you’re alive. You’ve been under my care and in a drug-induced coma for two weeks. It was touch and go there for a while, but I think after some vigorous physical therapy, you should be able to return to a pretty normal life. That’s the good news. The bad news is that you are going to be here with us for a little while longer. You have quite a bit of healing to do before we are able to release you.
You’ve broken both of your legs, you have managed to sprain your right wrist, you’ve ruptured a disk in your back and you have a fractured collarbone. Those things can all be fixed and they are well on their way to healing. I do have to tell you, Ms. York, that you suffered some swelling of the brain and a concussion. So, you’re going to have to take it easy and we will have to monitor you until the swelling goes down. I can’t say it enough, Ms. York; you’re one lucky woman. You will have some scars and you might experience migraines from time to time, but other than that, you should heal in time.”
I sat there looking from Doctor Gandy to the officer trying to process everything. Once the doctor finished all he had to say, he excused himself leaving me there with the officer that I would rather not be around right now. The officer offered me a warm smile, but I still wasn’t sure if she was there to bust my ass for trying to kill Dread or not, so I played it cool and watched her like a hawk.
She pulled up a chair right next to my bed and looked at her watch and jotted something on that notepad she was still holding.
“Ms. York, my name is Officer Singleton. Do you know why I’m here?”
I had been up for all of seven minutes and I was already sick of being asked that question. Obviously, I didn’t know and I wished she would just say whatever she needed to say. The anticipation was killing me. I shook my head back and forth and waited for her to tell me why she was there.
“Ms. York, you were involved in a nearly fatal crash. After we investigated the scene and what was left of your bike, we were able to determine that the brake line on the bike you were operating had been tampered with,” she paused to give me time to let it all sink in.
I don’t know what kind of reaction she was expecting from me, but I’m sure she wasn’t expecting me to smile at her. I already knew this had something to do with Dread. Since the day I shot him, I had been having nothing but bad luck. I missed my mark and he had most likely sent someone to kill me. I was secretly mad at myself for making my hit on Dread personal. I knew better. When you make shit personal, it never goes right. My beef with Dread was definitely personal. He had killed my sister and as soon as I could get out of this hospital, I was going to hunt him down and kill him the way he had done my baby sister the night of my birthday party.
“Is there someone who may want to see you hurt?” Officer Singleton continued.
I wanted to tell her, “Sure there are tons of people who want to see me hurt and even more people who would rat
her see me dead,” but I wasn’t going to say anything else to her. I felt better knowing she wasn’t there because the police knew I tried to kill Dread’s sorry ass and missed. Instead, they were there because he had probably tried to kill me. Talk about the irony of it all. Then it hit me. Where was Neko? I was headed to see him and that’s the last thing I remembered before waking up here.
“Officer Singleton…were you able to reach my ahh…boyfriend? His name is Neko Reynolds,” I managed to ask, even though my throat felt like the Sahara Desert.
She looked at me and smiled weakly. “Ms. York, that is another thing I am here to talk to you about. Two men have inquired about you, but…” then her voice trailed off.
“But what?”
“Ms. York, I don’t know exactly how to say it but…for your protection we told anyone that inquired about you, that you didn’t make it. We didn’t have a next of kin to contact and we didn’t know who made the attempt on your life. We felt it was in your best interest to keep you away from anyone who could have posed a threat. You have had one attempt on your life. We didn’t want anyone to make another one and succeed at it this time.”
I sat there listening to this woman tell me that I was dead to anyone who would even bother to look for me.
“Why would you tell him that?” I screamed and thrashed about the hospital bed. Although it hurt to move, I wanted to get out of there and I wanted to leave now. I had to get to Neko. I had to let him know I wasn’t dead. We had just made things right between us.
Detective Singleton quickly pushed the call button and the nurses filed in one by one. They surrounded the bed where I was still trying to get up so I could be with Neko. One male nurse held me down while another injected some clear liquid into my arm. Instantly, I felt like I couldn’t move. Whatever the liquid was that she injected into my arm had a quick effect. I tried to concentrate on fighting them off of me. I wanted answers for their actions.
