Graveyard Love

by T. C. Littles

  “Shut up all that loud shit,” he yelled back at me. I could tell from the rise in his voice and the way his left eye twitched that he meant business, but I was too far gone into my tantrum.

  “But I can’t. This shit hurts so bad! I can’t believe you made me kill our baby. It’s because of you I’m going through all of this in the first place. I swear to God I hate your black ass!”

  Whap!

  Spade sent his open hand right across my face. “I told your ass to shut the fuck up. And, bitch, who the fuck knew or not if it was mine? I don’t want to hear another word about that flushed out bastard!”

  It’s like he smacked my cries back into my soul. What was coming out as loud wails were now swallowed deep in the pit of my stomach, along with the terrible cramps. Spade hated me.

  The feelings were mutual.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  “Hey, man, I ain’t trying to be in y’all business and shit, but let me holla at you for a second.”

  “This ain’t the time, Rocko. Matter of fact, I’ll hook up with you after I take care of my wife. You can hit chill downstairs until I’m done.” Spade stood over me fuming. I could tell the postabortion problem was about to be second on my list of issues. He was about to whoop off into my ass.

  “Naw, nigga, come on out or I’m coming in. Let me holla at you!” Rocko was persistent, and I was thankful. It was about damn time, and hopefully, this wasn’t the calm before the storm of him murking me like he’d done Lezlee.

  “Your ass better not move,” Spade said as he grabbed and mushed my face before shoving me onto the bed. He watched me with an evil eye as he walked across the room. I dared not move a millimeter. “What up?” He cracked the door open to see what was up with Rocko.

  “Shit, man, you on a nut. We been drinking, blazing, and popping off all day, so I know you amped up. Let me save you from doing something you’ll regret tomorrow, and let’s drop her off at the emergency room. Don’t let ya wife die up in there.” Rocko tried talking some sense into my husband.

  “Did I give you slack about killing that Lezlee chick?” Spade shot back. “I’ve got this, dude. So like I said before, I’m good, and I’ll get at you once I’m done taking care of my business.”

  He tried shutting the door, but Rocko pushed it back open. I still sat quiet as a church mouse waiting on the drama to unfold. The cramps were kicking my ass, but I knew disobeying Spade wasn’t an option.

  “No. But I know you’re off on that shit, and I can’t let you go out like that.” He spilled Spade’s business out onto the floor.

  I was thrown for a loop hearing Rocko’s words, but there wasn’t a free moment to question him or respond. Spade looked beat at his own game, then turned to face me.

  “Get your stanking ass dressed. If you ain’t at the front door in three minutes, you’re gonna bleed out on that damn bed and die. Either way, me and Rock are about to be out.”

  17

  Rocko

  Breaking every speed limited and traffic law, I flew through the streets of Detroit trying to reach Sinai Grace Hospital. Jakia was in the backseat curled up in the fetal positon crying while Spade barked orders into her ear. I never liked to play the middle man when it came to getting involved in their shit, but Jakia was more than just his girlfriend at this point. Spade had officially made her my cousin, so to some degree—I had to protect her like family.

  “Yo, nigga, climb yo’ ass back in the front seat at the next red light so we can finish getting blazed. Give her a break already,” I intervened, then raised the Patrón bottle.

  After the next half mile was up, Spade joined me in the front seat but didn’t let up on screaming the rules Jakia had to follow over his shoulder. The few times I looked in the rearview mirror, she was nodding and wiping her face, recognizing his wrath. If only Lezlee could’ve been just as compliant....

  “Aye, Rocko, this is close enough. She can walk the rest of the way.” Spade threw his hands up for me to stop the car.

  I slammed on the brakes as ordered, even though I knew what was going down was wrong. We could’ve at least dropped her at the front door, but I wasn’t about to go against my homeboy’s wishes. I pitied Jakia, but it was up to baby girl to stand up to fend for herself. Unlike Lezlee, she’d been loyal to no limits, but every deed was in vain. Pulling my baseball cap brim down lower, I pulled off once Jakia crawled from the backseat and away from the curb. I made sure she made it to the vicinity of the hospital, but the rest was on her.

  Jakia

  Once Rocko and Spade sped off leaving me at the curb, I limped as far as I could up the walkway before falling into the flower bed. Thankfully, I was only at the edge of the parking lot when they dropped me off.

  “Ma’am, are you okay? Someone call security,” I heard a spectator say. “Ma’am, is anyone here with you? Do you know what today is? What is your name?”

  Before I had a chance to blink or breathe, the same voice who’d called for help was now standing over me trying to see if I was coherent. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just lost my balance.” I ignored all of his questions trying to stand up. I didn’t know who he was, but I knew Spade’s word was law—and that was not to get friendly with muthafuckas.

  “No, no, no. Don’t try standing up. Chances are, you’ll fall right back down there. I’ll come down there with you.” The stranger was being far too nice.

  “Please don’t do that.” I slid away from him. “I said I’m good.” I frantically looked around for Spade. Knowing him, he was probably posted somewhere inconspicuous, watching my every move alongside Rocko. I didn’t want to get caught talking to a stranger that wasn’t on his roster to get set up, even though he was only trying to help me.

  “Okay, not a problem. But please, just stay down there until security gets here with a wheelchair.”

  Through the cramping and discomfort, I looked up at the man noticing his soft features. It had been awhile since I’d encountered someone being genuinely nice to me. Even though I couldn’t welcome it, the temporary feeling felt extremely comforting.

  “Thanks, but you don’t have to wait. I appreciate it, though.” Still staring around in a frenzy, I was more panicked now than I was in pain.

  “I could get in trouble for letting a pretty woman like yourself stay in distress alone. Until whoever you’re waiting on gets here or at least the security team arrives to rescue you, I’ll wait.” I smiled at his compliment and generosity.

  It wasn’t long before a security guard came with a wheelchair and, as promised, the mystery man disappeared into the hospital. As they wheeled me to the trauma unit’s nursing station, I regretted not thanking the stranger for being so kind and helpful. Who knew how long I would’ve been stretched out in agony in front of the hospital if it weren’t for him calling out for help. I appreciated him for being my lifesaver, although I wasn’t showing it.

  “Okay, ma’am, you seem to be in pretty bad shape, but I have to ask so we can have complete paperwork, and I can get you the help you need. On a scale from one to ten, with ten being the worst, what’s your pain level at?”

  “A ten,” I responded with no delay. “Please get me some drugs to knock me all the way out. I can’t take this pain anymore!” I looked up at the nurse like a wounded dog hoping she’d pity me even more. I knew they saw cases like this all the time, but, of course, to me, mine was the most severe. My loads of mental, physical, and emotional abuse were killing me.

  “We’re going to take good care of you, ma’am. Don’t you worry about that.” She helped me out of the wheelchair onto a stretcher. “The doctor will be in momentarily, but I’ll need to get some pertinent information from you as well as check your vitals. Let’s start with your name.” The hospital’s intake staff was quick and efficient.

  “Jakia Johnson.” I leaned back onto the stretcher, thankful I was about to get the medical attention I was in desperate need of.

  “And what brings you in today?”

  I had to be careful about
how I responded. Spade was specific in telling me to keep my mouth shut on anything outside of the botched abortion, so I couldn’t throw any red flags out about me being a victim of domestic abuse and certainly not the deaths I’ve witnessed. “Um, I went to the clinic yesterday to start a medical abortion. Everything was fine until I inserted the final three pills this morning. They said I was supposed to cramp and bleed heavy, but I’ve been like this since early this morning. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Okay, relax. It’s a good thing you came in. Let me get your blood pressure and an IV line started. The doctor will more than likely send for some pain medication for you,” the nurse reassured me.

  “Can the doctor be a woman? I’ve kinda got a thing about men doctors being all around me down there,” I lied, knowing it would be believable.

  “That’s understandable.” She appeared to be relatable. “I’ll inform the head nurse. They should be able to accommodate the request. Let’s get started so we can get you more comfortable.” She started the light exam but continued questioning me about the clinic, their procedure, how I inserted the pills, and what follow-up care I might’ve administered to myself.

  I was truthful about everything pertaining to the abortion. Nerves will make you do that. I was scared out of mind that my body was fed up and ready to take itself out of the game. With Spade misusing me, forcing me to exploit myself for his gain, and me not knowing how to defend myself—maybe this was my body’s way of saying, “Hey, bitch, this is it.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Johnson, the doctor should be in shortly. Please get fully undressed and put this gown on. Here’s a bag for all your belongings.”

  I checked my cell seeing Spade hadn’t called, then tucked it back into my purse. I didn’t have any friends or family to call since he made sure to keep me isolated. So it was a time-out for having someone to help me kill time. Through the pain, I managed to get undressed and prepare for whatever procedures they had to do.

  Knock-Knock!

  “Yes, come in,” I answered the taps coming from the other side of the door.

  “Hi, Mrs. Johnson. I’m the emergency room physician, Dr. Wang. What brings you in today?”

  Dr. Wang listened intently while I explained my experience and everything I’d told the nurse. After questioning me explicitly about their procedures, my internal feelings, and what follow-up care I received, she prescribed a drip of morphine, then put me on the list for the next available examination room. “Please get some rest, Mrs. Johnson. Something tells me you need it.” She winked, then closed the door.

  Once the morphine was inserted into my IV line, euphoria took over. I was doped all the way up. My eyes were heavy, the crucial pain in my abdomen was starting to subside, and for the first time in years—I felt at ease. This was the safest place for me to be right about now ’cause I knew Spade wasn’t coming nowhere near it.

  Juan

  Sweating like the caged animal I was, I lifted my muscular body up and down doing a countless number of push-ups to let off steam. Time wasn’t the real factor in this prison, but Jakia’s well-being was.

  “I see your counselor forced yo’ hot-headed ass to find another way to let off steam.” Gonz approached me on the yard.

  “Hell yeah,” I responded, leaping up to face him dead-on. “Anything is better than solitary confinement. I made every promise I could think of to change my act when I thought they were taking me back down to SHU.”

  “I feel that, man. In here, every move made is for survival.” Gonzalo’s words were always weighted. “It’s best you’re learning that now so you can use another prisoner to your advantage if and when the time comes. Never forget that behind here, we all operate by the barter system.”

  Gonz noticed me thinking over his statement, and then when I didn’t respond, he continued.

  “Well, here’s a little news that might make your days here a little easier.” Gonz put his hand on my back. “Your sister is back in Detroit along with those two men you wish dead.”

  He’d piqued an emotion and my response. “How long have they been back? Is she okay? Has your team seen that nigga Spade touch her?” Now, pacing the yard like a wild man, it was a good thing there was nothing but air to attack. If Jakia was back from her mini vacation not writing or emailing me, something must’ve been wrong.

  “Wow, slow down, Coleman. My men only reported that they saw the people you described touch back down at that address. I’ve got them on the watch but not for your sister’s personal bodyguard team. Their only purpose is to shoot and kill.”

  “Well, tell ’em to make it fast and make sure they spare my sister.” I ended the conversation, then started back exercising.

  Gonzalo wasn’t accustomed to me being the one to brush him off. Usually, he manipulated or controlled the conversation. But I’d earned a shitload of stripes being locked down in solitary—he owed me respect—or at least space I needed to work through my built-up frustration.

  “I’ll see you later, bunkie.” He turned and walked away.

  Spade

  “That’s my bad for tripping out earlier. These broads got me on another tip.” I took a cop apologizing to Rock.

  “Real rap, it might be them laced blunts you keep blowing on. You know I’m gonna hold it one hundred with you no matter what—and yo’ hand been showing. That Christmas cookie bullshit been having you do some real wild and sporadic shit lately. You’ve always been crazy, but I haven’t been able to calculate your moves lately. Some shit don’t seem right, bro.”

  The words coming out of Rocko’s mouth might’ve been hard to swallow, but they needed digestion anyway. “Maybe I’ll quit this shit cold turkey and leave it in the D when we pull out.” Wishful thinking or not, I wanted to believe my own words. Crack was no one’s friend and a hard monkey to get up off your back.

  “Yeah, you can sell another nigga a boat and Jakia a bag of dreams. Me and you go back to diapers, and you’ve got that addiction shit from yo’ moms, honest—no diss on auntie, you feel me?” Rocko was throwing jabs; nonetheless, it was an intervention I needed to hear.

  “You’re right. Say no more.” I issued my flag of defeat to my cousin. I wasn’t giving my Christmas cookie fix up anytime soon, but I made the promise to control it. Whatever that meant....

  We rode around the city chopping it up about old times while planning for our dip out of the city. Detroit had been our playground for doing dirt so long that it was gonna be sad saying goodbye. People who lived in the crime jungle either hated it or loved it, but surviving as delinquents made our value for the dirty D much more. I’d starved like a homeless man, then ate like a king—all within the same week hustling in these streets. Maybe after a few years passed, I’d be back to call it home.

  The turnup at Rouge Park was unreal. With Belle Isle turned into a state park swarming with state police, every young black male and female stayed clear of even Jefferson Avenue. Downtown Detroit had become a mecca for businessmen, white folks, and new money. None of us underprivileged nonvoters wanted to be caught up doing dirt or made an example out of. A new day was rising in the supposed bankrupt city—one where the white man felt safe to show his face and return. I might’ve been deep in the streets looking for ways to fuck up, but even the shadiest criminal knew what was up.

  Rocko cruised through the strip with the sounds on bang, the sun roof open, and the windows halfway cracked. Blowing out Kush fumes to pollute the earth, we blended in well ’cause everyone was getting doped up. By nature, I took in the scene and scoped people from head to toe. Everyone was out dressed in their best top-of-the-line gear, flossing in waxed up cars, and peeling off big bills from knotted stacks for freak dances. Even the ice-cream truck man stepped out in a pair of Red Bottoms. The Gator Capitol was truly the stunt haven, leaving Rocko and me like squirrels trying to catch fat nuts. The show-off didn’t mean shit to us—the come-up did.

  “Let’s park, get lit, and watch them hot-and-ready THOTs.” I pointed to a group of loo
se-looking girls on the prowl for attention.

  “Fuck it, why not? I could go for some ‘goodbye Detroit coochie,’” Rocko joked, turning the ignition off.

  Within no time, I’d called a few chicks over and cashed them out in advance to get it popping. I loved a girl with a little ego willing to do strange thangs for chump change. The four of us got bent for hours. Dusk was setting over the park; however, the party was nowhere near over. Neither Jakia nor Tiff were on my mind as I got lost in the impromptu going away festivities surrounding us. Blunt after blunt, plus two bottles of Patrón later, one of the girls was popping her hips on my dick while the other gave Rock some head. It was becoming hard to say goodbye to my hometown.

  Rocko

  I ain’t had head like this since Lezlee. Baby girl was now just a mere memory while the new girl was serving me up. The guarded feeling of someone watching us was coming and going the more lit I got. And the sloppier the freak got with her head job, the more I was willing to let go. Gripping the steering wheel, I enjoyed the view of her bobbing for my nuts. When a strange feeling rushed over me, I looked up in just enough time before getting blasted. Before the li’l nigga in my peripheral even got a chance to let loose, I’d already jerked the gearshift into drive.

  Pop! Pop!

  The girls started screaming, and even Spade ducked when bullets flew, and I took off. Whoever ole dude was let off two shots aimed at one of our heads, but I’d already floored the pedal. I was a criminal by nature and a killer at heart. I always sensed when someone was close on the watch.

  “Drive this muthafucka, Rock.” Spade rose up from the floor with his pistol in hand. “I’m about to smoke these clowns.” In the same minute, he was sending bullets out of the back passenger window.