“Hold on, son,” I said. “Them Valley niggas been cool from the beginning so the problem ain’t with them. If anybody gotta go, it’s that nigga Fish, and that nigga AG, and the rest of they bitch-ass crew, feel me?”
“Yeah, no doubt,” answered Cee. “But you know how I gets down. I’ll fuck around and do everybody dirty just on GP, like fuck it.”
“Yeah, I got you in my radar,” I said. “If anything, concentrate on that nigga Fish’s crew. I never liked that nigga anyway. Just holla at me, and let me know what’s goin’ down.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I got you.”
“One.”
“One.”
This whole thing with Fish left a weird feeling in my stomach from the first time Cee had put me on to him. I didn’t know what it was, but I just wasn’t feeling that dude. It wouldn’t be long before he got his, though. Then I would relax. As for now, that nigga could sneeze wrong and get a hit put out on him. Fuck that!
When I hung up the phone with Cee, I decided to check my voicemail at the crib. Something was still leaving a pain in my stomach. As I scanned through the messages, one was from my mother, hoping that I had a safe flight and a good time. She made sure she wished the same for Ginger, too. She knew that one day, Ginger would be my wife, and she didn’t disagree one bit. The next message was left by El Don, just asking that I call him back. The next message was left by someone much unexpected. When I heard his voice, I knew something was wrong. It was Red. He called to let me know that there was an emergency out there and that I needed to call him back. He said that it wasn’t something that I should hear on a machine. When I heard that, all kinds of things ran through my head. My first thought was that Trigger had gotten arrested. My second thoughts contained worse circumstances, but nothing I could have imagined would have led me to believe what he actually had to tell me. I called him immediately.
“Hello?” said the voice on the other line.
“Hello,” I said hurriedly. “Let me speak to Red.”
“Who dis?” the person asked.
“Yo, this is Spits!” I yelled. “Is Red there or not, nigga?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, cuz,” he replied. “Red said that you should be calling. He’s over at the hospital right now. Let me put you on three-way.”
Just as he said that, my heart stopped. I had no idea what was to follow. I thought maybe he’d gotten into some shit out there and had gotten shot. Or maybe it was Trigger that had gotten shot. I didn’t know what to think and this insensitive asshole had just put me on hold before I had a chance to ask what the fuck was going on. When he clicked back over, the phone in the hospital was already ringing. When Red answered, I spit, “Yo, what the fuck is going on, dog? What you doin’ in the hospital? Somebody hit you up, or somethin’?”
I kept asking questions back to back before he could answer and then he just said, “It ain’t me, dog.”
“Wha?” I asked confusedly.
“It ain’t me, dog,” he repeated. “I’m fine. It’s . . .”
“What nigga!” I said, cutting him off. I was in a very volatile state right then and this nigga was not moving fast enough for me.
“It’s Rachel,” he finally said. “It’s not me. I’m over here in San Jose Medical with Rachel.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked now, even more confused than I was at the beginning of the conversation. What did he mean he was with Rachel? What would he be doing with her at work?
“Look,” he began. “Some shit happened with your sister, duke. She ain’t get a chance to tell nobody what happened yet, but she’s not looking good right now. She keeps goin’ in and out, but all she says when she can talk is, ‘Where’s my brother?’ She won’t even talk to her own pops. You gonna have to come out here or somethin’, homie. This shit is straight fucked, blood.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there, staring at the wall with a perturbed look on my face. I was completely confused. This couldn’t be happening to me, not at the pinnacle of my happiness. I couldn’t believe it.
After Red yelled into the phone a few times to see if I was still there, he hung up thinking that we’d gotten disconnected, but I was just sitting there with the phone in my hand unknowing of what my next move would be. When Red hung up, the phone slipped from my hand and the sound of it hitting the ground brought me back to my senses. I just blinked and shook it off. I had to get into my problem-solving mode to get my shit back into proper perspective. All of a sudden, it came to me like a flash of light. I would have to go to Cali to make sure my sister would be all right. California wasn’t that long of a flight from Hawaii, so it wouldn’t even take too long to get there. I tried to think positively. Everything would be fine. It would take no longer than five hours to reach Cali, and when things were all good, I could just come back. Ginger would have to understand. I finally got up off of the bed and went up to where Ginger had been impatiently waiting for me in the Jacuzzi. She smiled when she saw me, but it took all of five seconds for her to realize that something was wrong.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asked.
“I have to tell you something that’s not going to make you happy, Mommy,” I said.
“What?” asked Ginger curiously. “Just tell me.”
“I have to leave right now,” I said.
“What?!” she said angrily. “Where do you have to go? And what am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“Listen,” I began. “Some shit happened with my sister in California.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “Rachel? What happened? Is she okay?”
“I’m not exactly sure of all of that shit yet,” I answered. “But she’s in the fuckin’ hospital right now, and she just keeps asking for me.”
“What?” she asked. “I don’t understand. What do you mean? She won’t tell anybody what happened?”
“All she does is ask for me,” I responded. “I don’t know what’s going on. I was checking the messages on the house phone when I heard a message from Red that sounded urgent, so I called him up. He said he’s in the hospital with her right now, and I don’t know how serious this shit is. I have to go there and see what’s going on. I’m gonna have to fix this shit.”
“I understand, Daddy,” she said, just like I knew she would.
“I mean, Cali is right there though,” I stated, trying to make her feel comfortable with me leaving. “It’s only a few hours to get there. If everything is cool, I’ll be right back. You can even come with me if you want.”
Although the offer sounded nice at first, just the thought of the flights there and back made Ginger think that she’d be pushing it. She’d just gotten used to flying, but she wasn’t completely comfortable with it yet. Besides, this was time that Spits would need to spend with his sister alone. Not to take from her concern, but she felt that she’d be intruding in their personal family business. “No, that’s okay, Daddy,” she calmly said. “You go and be with your sister. She needs you more than I do right now.”
With that, I was making arrangements to charter another flight from Maui to Cali. I was informed that there would be an aircraft available as soon as 5 p.m. From then, I would be in Cali by ten or eleven o’clock.
CHAPTER 19
The flight took approximately four hours and fifty-five minutes. It was 9:55 p.m. when the pilot landed at Livermore Airport. From there, it took approximately forty minutes in a cab for Spits to get to the San Jose Medical Center. When he got there, he asked for Rachel’s room at the front desk. He got her room number and as the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor, he was immediately greeted by Red while he was sitting in the waiting area.
“Thank God, you’re here, blood,” Red said as he walked over to Spits to exchange a pound and a hug. “Long time no see, huh?”
“Yeah,” Spits said, still feeling distant. “Where’s she at, dog? Where’s my sister?”
“Her room is uuh . . .right down here, homie,” Red said after a slight he
sitation. “She uuh . . .lost consciousness not too long ago. I gotta warn you though, homie, it ain’t pretty.”
Spits took a moment to study the look on Red’s face once more before he’d entered the room. There was nothing on his facial expression that suggested his words be taken lightly. He was very serious. That in itself meant a lot, due to the crazy shit that Red had seen in his life. If this was a situation to be treated with sensitivity, then Spits would take it to the heart. He took a deep breath, and then turned the doorknob. Red closed the door behind Spits and positioned himself in front of it to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed.
What was on the other side of the door would immediately bring a glossy shimmer to Spits’ eyes. He stopped at the doorway and lowered his head into his hands. When he could finally lift his head up he continued toward Rachel. The closer he got, the more upset he became. Somebody’s gonna die behind this shit, is all he thought. Somebody would have to be held responsible for the bruises and cuts on his sister’s face, for the casts that covered her right arm and leg, and for the bandage that wrapped her head.
Spits took her left hand in his and caressed it with his other. He promised her that whoever did this would be seeing their death sooner than later. He kissed her on her forehead and left the room in a rage. Upon exiting, the first person he spotted was Red. He lunged in his direction and held him up against the adjacent wall with his hand at his neck. With the other hand, he pointed between Red’s eyes. “Who the fuck did this to my sister?!” he yelled. “The mu’fucka that did this better already be dead, nigga! I swear, he better already be dead before I find him. This was your responsibility, Red! You was supposed to make sure nothing happened to her!”
“Calm down, Spits,” Red said as he attempted to reach Spits through all of the rage. “I don’t know who did this shit, dog. I been trying to find that shit out since I been here, blood. All she did was ask to speak to her brother, and then she just lost consciousness,” he said before pausing. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?!” he cried.
Spits let go of Red’s neck and backed off until he felt the wall on his back, and then he just sat there on the floor.
“Are you Michael Banner?” asked a doctor that approached them while Spits sat on the floor.
“Yes,” said Spits, now sitting with his head in his lap. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Dr. Timothy Halsey. I’ve been treating your sister, Rachel.”
He quickly jumped up so that the doctor could have his undivided attention. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked eagerly.
“Well, that’s what I’d like to talk to you about, sir,” he responded. “Would you mind it if we spoke privately?”
“Oh, that’s cool,” he said.
Dr. Halsey brought Spits down the hall and around the corner so that they could have some privacy and began by stating his deepest concern for his sister’s health. He went on to say, “Your sister Rachel was in a very vulnerable state, Mr. Banner. She took a really bad beating, sir, and she’s lucky to be alive at this point. She’d already lost a lot of blood by the time she was brought here, but we currently have that under our control. She’d suffered from a massive concussion from repeated blows to the head, and her sixth, seventh and eighth ribs were broken. She has a fractured triquetral and pisiform in her right wrist that could’ve come from her throwing up her arms in defense. She also sustained injuries to her tibia and fibula bones in her right leg that were caused by some sort of impact with a blunt object.” He paused to let the information that he’d just provided sink in. He then continued, “Actually, Mr. Banner, had your friend not brought her here when he did, she probably wouldn’t have made it.”
Spits had nothing to say. He knew that the doctor was telling him this because Spits should know how much he owed to his man, Red. He took a moment to take it all in and then asked, “Will she be okay?”
“Honestly, Mr. Banner, sir,” he began. “That information can’t yet be determined, but at this point, I would say that her condition has improved since she arrived. She lost consciousness not too long ago, but that was caused by the hours and hours of surgery. She’s been through a lot in the past two days, and all she needs now is rest.”
Spits finally started to settle down. “Well, as long as she’s going to be okay.”
“Yes, Mr. Banner, I think as long as she gets the proper rest, I think she’ll be fine,” Dr. Halsey said. “Unfortunately, we couldn’t do anything about her baby.”
“What?!” Spits said confusingly. “What you mean, ‘her baby?’”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dr. Halsey said. “I thought you were previously informed. I deeply apologize, Mr. Banner, but your sister was three months’ pregnant. The baby was lost. There was nothing that we could do. It was already too late.”
Once Spits heard that, his brain just started going into overdrive. He hadn’t even realized that his sister had been involved with someone, let alone had a baby on the way. There were too many blanks to be filled, like why would anybody have a beef with his sister? Something wasn’t right. He wondered, “What could’ve made her keep something like this from me?” A thousand and one different questions ran through his mind that he’d have to ask her about after she regained consciousness. For now, all he could do was wait. He spent the rest of the night at her bedside waiting for her to wake up. After briefly apologizing to Red, he told him that he could head home if he’d like, but Red would hear nothing of it. He insisted on staying with him, in case he was needed. He made himself comfortable in the hospital lobby for the rest of the night.
After hours of pacing back and forth in Rachel’s hospital room, Spits found himself sitting in front of her in a chair. He stared at her face all night and early into the morning. When Spits was finally about to doze off, he realized that her nose had started wiggling. This was the most she’d moved since he’d been there, and now he was wide awake again and giving her his undivided attention. A few seconds went by and her eyelids started twitching. Soon, she was blinking her eyes while she squinted to shield her sight from the bright lights that were now shining through the hospital window, as the sun came peeking out of the dark. Spits just smiled at her, silently cheering on her recovery to himself. He took a deep breath and held her by the hand to acknowledge his presence. It took a second of focusing for Rachel to realize that it was none other than her own little brother sitting in front of her rubbing her hand, and when she did, a smile crept from her facial expression, until the pain it caused brought her back to her distressed reality. All of sudden, she became conscious of her appearance, but was unable to adjust. She attempted to shield her embarrassment by turning away from his proud stares, but Spits simply chuckled it off and got up to kiss her forehead. He sat back down and she smiled at him. She felt much better, now that he was there with her.
“Can you talk?” he quietly asked.
She moved around her jaw for a second, and then uttered the words, “It hurts when I move my mouth.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her. “We have all the time in the world to talk.”
“No!” she said firmly. “We don’t have much time. I need to tell you what happened.”
“Listen . . .” He began rubbing her forehead. “You shouldn’t be too active right now. The most important thing is that you get better. Everything else will have to come second.”
“But, I can’t . . .” she said before the sound of the door opening cut her off.
Spits got up to see who it was and once he got a good look, he said, “What’s up, my nigga?”
“What’s up, dog?” responded Trigger. He seemed surprised to see him. “When you get here?”
“Last night, dog,” Spits responded. “Where you been at?”
“I just got home and checked my messages,” responded Trigger. “That shit bugged me out when I heard this nigga Red on my voicemail saying that something happened to Rachel, so I came right over. Did she tell you anything yet?”
; “Naw,” responded Spits. “Matter of fact, she just woke up a second ago. I don’t know if you want to see her like this, dog.”
“Oh, come on now, son,” he responded. “We still family, right?”
“All right, my bad, son,” Spits said. “Just hold on for a second. Let me tell her you’re here.”
When Spits returned to Rachel’s bedside, she was just lying there looking up at the ceiling with a hopeless look on her face. He sat down in the chair next to her and said, “Trigger is here. You don’t mind if he stays while we talk, do you?”
Her eyes opened up wider, and she looked as if she was conflicted about how she should answer. But before she even got a chance to respond, Trigger came from around the curtain. He smiled at her and said, “Are you feeling any better, Rachel?”
She just smiled and nodded.
“Listen . . .” he said with a concerned tone of voice. “You have to tell us who did this shit to you. I swear to God, I won’t rest until we find these cowards and fill them full of slugs.”
“Yo, calm down, dog,” Spits said. “The most important thing is that she gets better right now. Family business first, and then we could take it to the streets, feel me?”
“No, he’s right,” Rachel said. “The only thing that I’m worried about right now is making the punk that did this to me pay.”
Back in the Bronx, even though the temperature read under freezing, the streets were about to get heated up real fast. With a short call from Cee to Don P., they were ready to make their move. This bitch-ass nigga Fish would see his last day on the streets. He went too far and now he would have to pay. It was reported to Ceelow late last night that Fish had attempted to strong-arm a worker for the Time Bomb organization. It was all Cee needed to wage an all-out war against Fish, and his whole crew—if they wanted it. Once Cee got the news, El Don and Poncho were the next to find out. Everybody on the streets knew that the Time Bombs were just not to be fucked with, and whoever didn’t know would get a crash-course. Don P. were ready at all times to drop bombs for the clique so when they got the word from Cee, they were happy to offer their assistance.
Cracked Dreams Page 17
