Bosco (Kings of Korruption)

by Geri Glenn

  Sinking to my knees on the cold asphalt, I ignore the couple walking quickly into the building, casting me looks filled with fear. Fuck them. With a lowered head, I say the first prayer I’ve said since I asked God to save my brother.

  “God, I know you and me aren’t exactly on speaking terms. I know I only speak to you when I need something, but this time, I really need you to listen. Millie’s just a little girl. She’s a freaking baby. I hate that this stupid disease even exists, and I hate that it can kill so many people, but you need to save her, God. I need you to save her and let her live. You took my brother. Please. Please, don’t take Millie too.”

  Tears burn from behind my eyelids, but I take a deep breath and take a moment to put myself back together. Just as I’m about to stand, I hear footsteps approaching.

  “Sir? Are you all right?”

  Turning, I see a hospital security guard standing about ten feet away, his hand on the butt of the baton at his side. I snort and shake my head. This fucker is ready to take me on, just based on my looks, of that I have no doubt. No questioning that this is a fucking hospital and someone might be outside and upset with something they’re going through.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, rising to my feet and towering over him. This son of a bitch is short.

  “We’ve had a report of someone screaming out here.” I have to give the little guy credit, he doesn’t even flinch.

  I cock a brow at him and take a step in his direction. “That would be me.” I don’t know why I’m picking a fight with this guy. It’s not his fault that Millie’s sick, but he’s picked the wrong time to try to intimidate me with his little stick. “There a problem with that?”

  The guard doesn’t back away, but he also doesn’t reprimand me. “No,” he says, his voice lowering and his hand dropping to his side. “I was just checking that nobody was being attacked.” He stares at me for a second. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but you’re not the first guy to come out here and lose his shit.” He points to the small garden. “I’m just glad you left the flowers where they are.”

  Cracking a small smile, I confess to him, “I almost didn’t.”

  The guard chuckles. “Well, just the same, thanks. And if you need someone to talk to, there are some counsellors inside to help families dealing with their pain.”

  Shaking my head, I extend a hand to him. He takes it in his and gives it a firm shake. “Nah. I’m good now that I’ve got it outta my system. And thanks for not being a dick.”

  He laughs and looks me up and down. “Yeah. You too.”

  When he walks away, I take a seat back on the bench and look down at my phone. Thankfully, it had escaped my little tantrum unscathed. Pulling up the menu, I find Ryker’s number and wait for the call to connect.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey, Boss Man. Sorry to call you when you’re at home, but I have to talk to you about Sarah.”

  Ryker chuckles. “Yeah, Pimp told me you lost your shit over Sarah workin’ at Chrome.”

  Fuckin’ bunch of gossips. Sometimes I think these assholes are worse than the women they accuse of blabbing about private shit that doesn’t concern them. “It’s not that. It’s actually about Millie.”

  There’s no humor in Ryker’s voice now. “What about her?”

  I tell him about the seizure and about having to call the ambulance. I tell him about the battery of tests they put Millie through all day long, and about what a trooper she’d been through every part of it.

  “She has cancer, man.”

  Silence echoes through the phone.

  “Leukemia, actually. She starts chemo in the morning, after they do a draw on her bone marrow.”

  “Jesus,” he finally groans out. “Poor fuckin’ kid. How’s Sarah?”

  I sigh, and think back to the way Sarah had blanked out when the doctor had given the results. “Not good, but she’ll come around. She’s tough.”

  “What about you?”

  I huff out a breath of frustration. “I don’t even know, man. I love that kid more than anything, and this is fucking killing me.”

  It takes Ryker a few moments to say anything. Finally, his voice low and steady, he says, “Stay strong, brother. Your girls are gonna need you.”

  Sarah

  The silence in this tiny room is slowly killing me. Millie’s chemo is currently pumping into her at a rapid pace and she’s sound asleep. I’ve read every magazine this hospital has to offer, and my phone is now officially dead.

  Glancing over at Bosco, I watch him quietly as he sits there, flicking through the TV channels. The story about his brother explains so much about him. Like why he never talks about his family, and why he seemed to understand most of the information the doctor had given us.

  “What else don’t I know about you?”

  A frown creases Bosco’s forehead as he turns his face toward me. Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Pardon?”

  Might as well just go with it. I’m curious. “You told me about your brother earlier, but I really hadn’t realized before then that I don’t know much at all about your past.”

  I don’t know what kind of reaction I expected to my question, but the deer in the headlights look he gives me isn’t it. “What?” I tease. “Got a secret baby out there I don’t know about? A wife? A home in Kalamazoo?”

  He gapes at me a moment, frozen in place, and then whatever spell he’s under is broken. He chuckles a little and turns off the TV, giving me his undivided attention. “No, nothing like that,” he says. “But there is something you don’t know. Something I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I’ve never told even the guys at the club.”

  I wait in silence, the suspense killing me, but part of me is flattered that he’s going to let me in on something so private.

  “After my brother died, I kinda went off the rails,” he admits. “Started hanging out with the wrong crowd, dropped out of school, starting smoking weed. I fought a lot, stole shit from my parents. Eventually, I starting using cocaine and ended up doing a stint in juvie for possession. When I got out, my parents were gone. To this day, I still don’t have a fucking clue what happened to them or where they went.”

  Jesus. “What did you do?”

  He lifts his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Lived on the streets. Became a beggar. Spent every penny I was given on heroine. I was a junkie. Eventually, one of my friends was raped and killed, and that’s when I realized that shit needed to change and fast, or I was gonna be next.”

  “God, Bosco,” I say, my heart aching for him. “I’m so sorry.”

  One side of his lips tip up in a half smile. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I got out. I learned, I overcame, and I got clean. Shit was bad for a real long time, but it’s made me who I am today.”

  “You still don’t know where your parents are?”

  He gives his head a shake. “Nope. I tried looking for them once, but it was clear they didn’t want to be found. I think they probably got a divorce and went their separate ways, started new lives. Spencer was always their favorite, and since I looked just like him, they didn’t need me messing with their plans. I was just a fuck up.”

  I frown. “You’re not a fuck up.”

  He lifts a finger and grins. “Not anymore.”

  As I stare back at him, trying to wrap my mind around the tale he’d just told me, he reaches forward and pats my leg. “What about you? Where are your parents?”

  Just thinking of them leaves a sour taste in my mouth. “Not far,” I say with a sigh. “They live here in the city, but when I got pregnant with Millie so young, they decided I didn’t fit their idea of the perfect Christian daughter anymore. They’ve barely spoken to me since.”

  Bosco’s lips twist to the side. “I hate to say it, babe, but your parents sound like dicks.”

  I smile at that. “They are dicks.”

  He glances over at Millie’s sleeping form. “You gonna tell them about Tink?”

  I don’t even h
ave to think about the answer to that. “No. All my life, I tried so hard to fit into the picture-perfect family they tried to put out to the public, and I failed at it constantly. If they came around now, Millie would be in that same position with him, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially my little girl.”

  “That I can understand.”

  I turn and stare over at my daughter. “I don’t get it, ya know? I look at that little girl over there and I can’t imagine never having her in my life. I could never just walk away from her because she wasn’t what I wanted her to be. I just want her to be happy.”

  “You’re a good mom,” Bosco says quietly.

  I look back at him. “Our parents sucked,” I declare.

  He chuckles. “That they did, but we’ll be better parents than them. We’ve both been given the perfect examples of how not to be. All we have to do is the exact opposite of them.”

  Bosco

  Since Rachel and I started this journey to sobriety together, she hasn’t really said much. She mostly spends her time laying on the bed, her eyes glued to the local news station, her face a mask of disinterest.

  When I’d detoxed, I’d thought I was fucking dying. The need and the pain were so strong, I’d have killed just about anyone if it earned me another hit. I’d figured that was the type of shit I’d be dealing with when I brought Rachel here, but she’s barely moved since the first day.

  “You hungry?” I ask, noticing that it’s almost seven o’clock and we haven’t had supper yet.

  “No.” Her voice is monotone, her gaze never leaving the television.

  I sigh. “I was thinking I’d order a pizza. You should eat something. You didn’t have lunch.”

  “Pizza’s good.”

  I’m pretty sure I could’ve offered her a dog shit sandwich and she would’ve said the same thing. Her behavior both confuses me and frustrates me. After we’d gotten back from meeting Pimp, it’s like she’s just shut down.

  I don’t feel like I’m doing enough to help her. At first, I knew she’d been trying to stay clean. Now she’s off the streets, so I know I’m helping her that way, but we’re not connecting at all. She won’t talk to me, she barely eats, and I’m pretty sure if I left altogether, she wouldn’t even notice.

  I’m just about to call and order the pizza when Rachel sits up on the bed, her eyes wide and filled with fear. “No,” she whispers.

  “What’s the matter?” I move closer to see what she’s watching, and there on the news is a man walking out of the police department.

  A quiet, keening wail sounds from her body as her face crumples in defeat. “No!”

  “Is that him? Is that the fucker who pumped you full of drugs and sold you on the street? Marco?”

  “He wasn’t supposed to get out. The police told me he wasn’t going to be out for a long time.”

  Her fear fills the room like a cloud, thick enough to touch. “He can’t get to you anymore, Rachel. You’re safe here.”

  “He’ll find me!” she yells. “He’ll find me and he’ll hurt you!”

  “He won’t.” I walk over and turn off the TV. “You’re safe, Rachel. You’re safe here, and you’ll be even safer once you’re with Pimp. He’s a pro at dealing with psycho men that like to use women. Is this why you haven’t taken your eyes off the news in days?”

  She looks up at me with tears in her eyes and nods. “I’ve just had the worst feeling. I knew something bad was going to happen.”

  I grit my teeth. “Absolutely nothing bad is going to happen to you. I’ll kill that motherfucker if I see him, and God help him if he ever gets near Pimp and his men.”

  Rachel’s shoulders drop and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s just been so long, ya know? Like, he’s run my entire life for three years. If he finds me, he’s gonna kill me.”

  Dropping to the bed, I sit on the edge and ask her the same question I’ve asked her before. “Do you trust me?”

  Her watery eyes meet mine, and after a pause, she bites down on her lip and nods.

  “Good,” I tell her. “Now let’s order that pizza.”

  Sarah

  Cancer fucking sucks. Watching your baby go through intense chemotherapy sucks just as much, if not more. For more than a week, we’ve sat in this hospital room, and Millie has received endless rounds of needle after needle and test after test. Her own courage far outweighs my own.

  Every prick of her skin is like a slice to my very soul. Every tear that she cries rips out another piece of my heart. The doctors and nurses do what they can to make things fun instead of scary, but you can’t glamorize a needle in your spine. Nothing can take that fear away for either of us.

  I haven’t been back to my house since the day we called the ambulance. Bosco’s tried to make me go home and rest, insisting that he would stay with Millie, but I’d refused him every time. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving my baby girl’s side, no matter how badly I need a good night’s sleep in something other than this goddamn chair.

  Each morning, either Bosco, or one of the other guys from the club has shown up, bearing coffee and muffins, and a fresh change of clothes. I only manage to snag a shower while Millie naps, or when Bosco’s staying for more than a few minutes.

  Millie and I are each coloring a picture when the doctor walks into the room. “Good morning, ladies,” she greets with a cheerful smile. “I come bearing good news. Millie’s counts are getting higher, and if things go well over the next couple of days, you should be good to take her home.”

  Take her home? The idea sends horror coursing through my body. “But...” I put the crayon down on the table and look at my daughter. “How?”

  Dr. Chisolm takes a seat on the edge of Millie’s bed, then picks up a crayon and begins to color. “Scary, right? I know the idea sounds impossible, but trust me, this is a good thing.” Digging through the basket of broken crayons, she pulls out a pink one and goes back to the picture. “Millie’s immune system is almost non-existent at this point. If she were to get sick, that would be very bad. She doesn’t have the blood cells she needs to fight it off. But, even so, staying here in the hospital is not the answer. Her first round of chemo is over. She’ll have medications you’ll need to administer several times a day, of course, and she’ll need to come back here quite often for treatments and blood tests. Other than that, we find it crucial to our patients to try to live their lives. To go home, sleep in their own beds, play with their own toys, snuggle on the couch with their mommies.”

  Millie grins up at her, and Dr. Chisolm winks.

  “What if she gets sick again?”

  “Then she comes back here, and we do everything we can to make her feel better.” She sighs and glances over at me. “I know this sounds like a lot to take in, but she can’t live in a hospital forever. This treatment plan she’s on will take almost four years. She won’t be able to go to daycare for a while, and things at home will have to be kept sanitized and clean, but aside from that, being at home is what’s going to set her on the road to recovery, to make her life as close to normal as possible.”

  I have to admit, that part does make sense. Being at home would be nice, but what do I know about her medicine? And I wouldn’t have a clue how to properly take care of her if she fell sick again. I’ve learned a lot these past couple weeks about cancer. I know just about everything there is to know about human blood now, and could recite off the tests Millie has had and exactly what they’re for, but that was all here, at the hospital. That was with the support of the nurses, doctors, and the volunteers. At home, it would be just me. Alone.

  Dr. Chisolm finishes up her picture and holds it up for Millie to see. Millie grins and holds up her own. “Gorgeous, Millie. You’re an artist.” Placing her picture back on the table, she leans over and places a hand over mine. “I promise we won’t send you home unprepared. We’re going to go over everything you need to know a million times between now and then, and when you’re home, I’m just a phone call away.
”

  Her words do little to soothe my worried mind. Being here in the hospital, where the nurses have been the ones dealing with the complexity of Millie’s treatment, has been easier to take than the idea of being the one responsible myself. But, I know she’s right. Millie would be much happier in our home. Fidgeting in my seat, I attempt to fake a brave smile. “Okay. We’re ready when you are.”

  Bosco

  Club Chrome in the daytime looks nothing like the popular nightclub it becomes at night. Black walls, mirrors, and chrome furniture look exciting, and even glamorous in the strobing lights of a night on the dance floor. During the day, when the place is empty, it looks plain.

  As of yesterday, Rachel has been officially clean for two weeks. I’m amazed every day by her determination to beat this addiction. I can tell there are times that it’s been painful for her, but she doesn’t let that part win. She’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.

  When we first got there, we’d filled Pimp and his men in on Marco, and the fear Rachel had about him coming after her. His jaw had gone hard as stone and my blood had ran cold at his tone when his only response had been, “Let him come.”

  As we walk down the stairs from Pimp’s office, Rachel grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Are you sure about this?” She looks around the room, her expression guarded. “I mean...the guy’s name is Pimp. I already had one of those, and it didn’t work out so well for me.”

  A chuckle escapes before I can stop it, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to control my grin. After a moment, I school my features and place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Pimp’s the absolute best place for you to be. The way he got his name is a story he may tell you one day himself, but I assure you, you’re safe here. He’ll help you in more ways than I ever could.”