“Who cares? Too late now.”
“No. That’s weird,” I snap as my head spins. Who the fuck is Serge and where the hell did he come from? I have a million and one questions to ask when I see him.
“Did you at least hire Charlie and Rock?” I ask Mr. J.
“Yeah. I hired them personally.”
We arrive at the hospital and walk directly up to the reception station.
“Hi. My friend Sergio Malano was rushed here.”
“Ahhh yes. He’s headed into surgery. Here comes one of the doctors,” she replies pointing. Mr. J and I rush up to the doctor.
“How is he?” I ask.
“Critical. We are doing everything we can. I am waiting for the blood bags to get here so we can begin surgery. We seem to be a little short. We are waiting for bags to be flown in now.”
“I’ll be a blood donor,” I tell him.
“Do you know your blood type?”
“O negative. I’m universal,” I reply.
“And I’m AB. I’ll volunteer as well,” Mr. J advises.
“Perfect. Right this way,” the doctor says escorting us into a room. A nurse draws our blood and escorts us back into the waiting room.
“Aneesah, I have that summit. Are you going to be alright?” Mr. J asks.
“Yeah…go. I’m fine.”
“Charlie…Rock,” Mr. J. says giving them a head nod as he rushes out.
I spend my entire afternoon at the hospital waiting to hear a status update on Serge. Around 3:30 a doctor comes out from the back.
“MALANO?” She shouts into the waiting room. Rock, Charlie, and I stand and follow the doctor.
“Yes. How is he?” I ask.
“You’re his daughter?” She questions.
“No, a friend. Is he okay?”
She looks through her chart.
“Aren’t you Aneesah?”
“How is that relevant?” I snap. How rude is she? How can you be star-stricken while my friend is fighting for his life?
“I asked because per his insurance information, next of kin is listed as his daughter, Aneesah Bradshaw.”
“It must be a mistake. Is he okay?” I repeat.
“But your blood type…”
“IT’S A MISTAKE,” I yell as my voice bounces off the walls.
“We did everything we could. He’s alive but I’m afraid there is not much brain activity.”
“So, are you saying he’s brain dead?” I ask, tears already building up.
“I’m afraid so.” She lets her words marinate as tears trickle down my face.
“You have to make a decision if you want to keep him alive or not,” she says softly.
“Me? Why me?” I sob.
“Because…,” she stares at Rock and then Charlie. “He has you listed as the next of kin.”
“It’s a mistake,” I shout.
“But your DNA matches,” she states softly. “Would you like us to do a paternity test?”
“Your DNA test is wrong,” I utter as my mouth becomes dry.
“Would you like for us to do the test Miss Bradshaw? I can have it expedited.”
“No,” I exhale while nodding my head yes, trying to concentrate on my breathing because it feels like I am about to hyperventilate or some shit. I glance at Rock and Charlie who have what the fuck? written all over their faces.
“Well, which one is it? Yes or no?” The doctor asks. I look back at Charlie and Rock who turn their heads, not giving me any eye contact.
“Miss Bradshaw?”
“I heard you,” I snap at the doctor. “Do you two have something to tell me? Are y’all my brothers or uncles or some shit?” I bark. They both shake their heads no.
“Run the test,” I whimper, not sure if I even want to know the answer.
“Okay. In the meantime, please take a look at these brochures. He has you listed in making the final decision on whether you want to prolong his life. He’s in room 226 if you want to see him,” she says before briskly walking off.
“Aneesah…I…Shit,” Charlie steps forward.
“Tell me you guys didn’t know,” I whine on the verge of a breakdown.
“He doesn’t even talk. How would we know?” Rock shrugs.
“You…y’all signed a confidentiality agreement. You’re not allowed to tell anyone,” I utter.
“We know how it works. We have been working with you for over ten years. You can trust us,” Charlie says opening his arms out towards me to give me a hug.
“I don’t know who to trust,” I mumble stepping away and walking inside the ladies’ room. This isn’t real. There’s been some sort of mistake. Not Serge. How? My head is throbbing, and I want to scream. I wet my face in the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror. There are no similarities besides dimples, but Rita has a dimple too. Rita? Oh my god, he raped my mother.
Something bursts inside of me. I’m not sure what this feeling is but I yank the bathroom door open and march up to room 226 with Rock and Charlie keeping a safe distance behind me. I enter his empty room while Rock and Charlie stay out in the hall. Serge is lying in bed with tubes running out of his mouth and gauze wrapped around his head.
“You have no right to die on me,” I yell angrily beating on his chest with tears running down my face.
“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT,” I scream, punching him in the face. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch.
“I HATE YOU,” I cry snatching the cords out the wall. I watch his chest stop going up and down. I’m not sure if he can feel himself suffocating but I stand and watch, hoping that it hurts, hoping that his death isn’t as peaceful as it is looking right now. My feet are glued in this spot as I stand and watch. I’m not sure for how long and I’m not sure at what exact moment he took his last breath.
“Aneesah,” Rock’s hand touches my shoulder.
“OH MY GOD. SERGE,” I yell running up to the wall, trying to plug the cords back in.
“What have I done?” I cry hysterically while trying to jam the cords back into the sockets. “I killed him.” I watch in horror before I snap and start beating on his chest trying to resuscitate him, not knowing what the fuck I’m doing.
“HELP ME,” I scream out to Charlie and Rock who are frozen stuck watching me come undone. The doctor comes running back in.
“Calm down. It’s alright.”
“But…but…I killed him,” I cry in her arms.
“It’s what he wanted. He let you make that decision.”
“No, I killed him,” I repeat as my legs buckle from under me.
“It’s okay Miss Bradshaw. It’s okay. You did nothing wrong,” she consoles me. I snap out of whatever madness I am in currently and look back at Rock and Charlie. I stand, smooth out my hair and clear my throat.
“Let’s go,” I demand, marching out the room.
Chapter Twelve
I don’t return to the set. Instead I drive straight to my house in Jersey after leaving the hospital. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and I can see all the vultures lined up outside of my gate, trying to catch a glimpse of me and get an exclusive statement about my fallen bodyguard. The TV stations run with the motorcycle accident story with no mention of how he may possibly be my father. I still don’t know the truth. The doctor gave me the test results back before I left the hospital yesterday but all I did was shove it in my bag, too afraid to open it.
The director from the movie gave me until next week to get my shit together. I dismissed my staff, including Dontay and Estelle and have been moping around my house, in the dark, smoking weed and sipping out of a vodka bottle. I’ve talked to few people; people who still have no idea what really happened yesterday and the secret that is now looming over my head. I look over at the clock. It’s after five in the evening and I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. The vibration of my phone startles me, alerting me that I have a text message.
Do you need a friend?
The message reads. I start to ignore it but I do nee
d a friend right now before I explode. I can’t carry this burden by myself and I don’t want to talk to Rock or Charlie about it.
Yes, I respond, giving in. I should at least shower or brush my teeth; try to look presentable before he gets here. I jump off the couch with Biggie trotting behind me to head upstairs to shower but the doorbell chimes.
“You smell like a ton of weed?” He laughs stepping in, holding a box of pizza in his hands. Sitting the pizza down on the table in my foyer, he looks down at me and wraps his arms around me.
“He was my father, Nyce,” I cry, collapsing in his arms.
“Shhh…come on. I got you,” he whispers, scooping me up. He walks us down into the basement and onto the couch.
“Come here,” he pulls me into his arms as I lay my head on his chest. I tell Nyce what happened at the hospital yesterday.
“So, you don’t know for sure if he’s your father or not?”
“No,” I reply. “I’m too afraid to open the results.”
“You know you didn’t kill him, right? He was already dead.”
I nod my head, but I don’t feel any better. I sit up and stare at him.
“Why don’t you want to know Aneesah?”
“Because what if it’s true? I would have to tell Rita that she has been around one of the men who raped her this whole time. That I, her daughter, had the man that’s broken both of us around this whole time. Should I tell her?”
“Would you want to know?”
“I’m not sure. I wished I didn’t know what I know now. She’s happy. I don’t want to destroy that.”
“Are you able to hold this secret in?”
“I don’t know,” I respond tearfully. He pulls me back into his arms and kisses me softly on top of my head.
“This doesn’t change who you are and how far you have come.”
“This changes everything about who I am,” I pop my head up and start to cry. “Does this mean I’m not a black woman anymore?” I cry deep from my soul. Nyce busts out laughing.
“What?”
“I fall right into that tragic mulatto role,” I sob as Nyce continues to laugh at me.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I chuckle through my tears hitting him.
“You’re really going to let some sick, racist ass white dude with his racist ass movie define who you are?”
“It makes sense,” I mumble. “My whole life has been one big tragedy.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Diamond. You are not having some sort of identity crisis.”
“I know I’m not because I’m a strong black woman,” I whine through my tears as we both burst out laughing.
“Oh my god, girl,” Nyce chuckles. “Do you want to know the truth?”
I nod my head up and down.
“Where are the papers?” He asks.
“Upstairs in the safe.”
Nyce jumps off the couch and runs upstairs. I roll another joint while I wait for him to return.
“You know, you shouldn’t be smoking,” he says returning with the envelope and the box of pizza.
“Don’t start with me. I’m not going to relapse,” I tell him lighting the joint and passing it to him.
“Did you at least eat something?” He asks, taking the joint out of my hands and handing me a slice of pizza. I take a small bite to appease him and sit the rest down on the table. I watch him inhale the smoke before passing me the envelope.
“I can’t. Can you open it for me?” He blows smoke out of his mouth before passing the joint back. I watch him open and read the letter.
“Remember, this doesn’t define who you are,” he tells me.
“It’s true?” I ask, wiping my tears.
“Shhh,” he pulls me back into his arms as I cry into his chest again.
“Do you want to find the rest of your family? I’ll help you,” he whispers in my ear.
“No,” I cry wiping my nose on his shirt.
“You’re gross,” he laughs.
“So,” I laugh as he takes my hand and entwines our fingers. We lay silently for a moment holding each other. His phone vibrates on the table as Tori’s name flashes across the screen. He pushes the ignore button and wraps his arms back around me.
“I think you should go,” I whisper. He lets out a heavy breath. We stand up off the couch and I walk him to the door.
“Thanks for coming,” I smile.
“Always,” he says planting a kiss on my forehead. “And brush your fuckin’ teeth,” he laughs before walking out.
After Nyce leaves, I quickly get dressed and hop in my car to drive to Gladwyne.
“MOVE,” I yell at the reporters that’s hounding my car outside my gate.
“ANEESAH, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE DEATH OF YOUR BODYGUARD?”
“I’m sad. How the fuck am I supposed to feel?” I snap as I steadily drive through the swarm of reporters trying not to run one of them over even though I want to.
I finally make it to my house in Gladwyne with a few reporters tailing behind me. They park their cars outside my property as I drive up the driveway.
“Hi honey,” Rita greets me at the door with a hug.
“Hey Ma,” I smile.
“I’m sorry to hear about Serge,” she says staring into my eyes. “Did you eat? I made some mac and cheese, fried chicken, and cabbage.”
“I hadn’t really eaten anything yet,” I reply following her into the kitchen. She fixes me a plate as I sit at the island, contemplating if I should tell her or not.
“How do you really feel, Aneesah?” She asks sitting a plate of food in front of me.
“I’m a little messed up but I’ll be alright,” I answer, picking at my plate. She sighs.
“Serge gave me the hibby-jibby’s,” she admits. “I was never quite comfortable around him for some odd reason, but I could tell that he had a genuine love for you and that made me feel at ease. Your safety always came first to him,” she smiles.
“Can I ask you something?” I turn to look at her, fighting back my tears.
“It’s okay to cry, Aneesah,” she says softly.
“I know,” I whisper, wiping a tear off my cheek. “If you had a chance to confront my sperm donor, if you found out you had a chance to know who he is, would you want to?”
She thinks about it for a moment.
“I don’t believe that I do. I put all of that behind me and I am in a peaceful place in my life but if you are asking me these questions because you want to find out who he is, I will help you as best as I can,” she solemnly states.
“Thanks mom.” I kiss her cheek, deciding that I will carry this burden for her.
I return to my Jersey home later in the wee hours of the AM after spending time with Rita. I’m mentally exhausted and quickly fall asleep.
The chiming of my doorbell wakes me.
“Who the fuck has security clearance and is at my damn door?” I snap, rolling over. It’s a little after noon and now I have to force myself to climb out of bed.
“I forgot,” I tell Tron when I open the door.
“You look like hell. Are you alright? I’m sorry about Serge. I called and texted you,” he says giving me a hug.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Long day yesterday. Let me make some tea to wake up and I’ll be right with you,” I tell him walking into the kitchen.
“Aneesah, we can do this another time,” he states, sitting at my island. I look at him. I’m sure I look like hell, puffy red eyes and all.
“Why don’t you come with me,” he says holding out his hand. “I know that you don’t have a show until next Thursday so come with me. Let me take you away for a little while. Take your mind off of Serge.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Tennessee,” he smiles.
“I don’t want to go to Tennessee,” I mumble.
“Come on. The press is still parked at your gate and you could use a getaway.”
“How am I going to get away in Tennessee? People still know who I am?�
��
“We will be on my granddad’s farm and you can just come hang out with me and my family,” he smiles.
“What about your little girlfriend? I’m sure she won’t like us hanging out together.”
“You and I are just friends. I am allowed to have friends. Besides, she’s in Canada doing one of those Lifetime movies or something.”
“Will your granddad be okay with me coming?”
“My Pops is old fashioned. He loves having company,” he smiles.
“Okay,” I whisper not wanting to be here and not wanting to be alone.
We board my helicopter to take us to the airport.
“You know, I had a commercial flight that flew out tonight. You got me wasting $300.00.”
“I’ll give it back to you, but we are taking my jet.”
“Do you even remember what’s it like to be a normal person doing normal things?” He asks.
“Of course, I do.”
“I can’t tell,” he laughs looking out the window. We board my jet and Tron melts his body in one of the leather couches.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I announce once we are safely in the air.
“Like I said, you forgot what it’s like to be normal,” he chuckles.
“Because I’m taking a shower?” I question.
“You’re taking a shower, on a private jet that has a fuckin’ bedroom and full bathroom in the back. There is nothing normal about that.”
“Welcome to the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Help yourself to something to drink, snacks or whatever. I’ll be back shortly,” I laugh.
“Just promise me something,” he says grabbing my hand.
“What?”
“You’ll let me show you a fun, normal, good time these next few days.”
“I am fun and normal.”
“Yeah, okay. Let me show you Tennessee,” he smiles his schoolboy smile. I nod my head and smile back before walking to the back of the plane to shower and get dressed.
We land in Tennessee on a private runway and are greeted by a red Sanford and Son pickup truck. I giggle as I step off the plane.
“What is this?” I ask.
“My cousin Steve. What’s the point of spending money if you don’t have to?” Tron shrugs. I walk with Tron to the back of the pickup to load our bags in. I want to tell him that my custom made pink and white Louie Vuitton luggage better not get a scratch on it, but I refrain, trying not to act like the bougie princess he thinks I am.
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