The Black Sheep, Part 2: Greed (The Seven Deadly Kins #4)

Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Writing Some Chicken Scratch

T he machines made a disjointed, strange harmony. Roman took a few steps into the room, clutching his jacket to his chest. Genesis was right behind him, like a loving shadow. He glanced at his father being tended to by a nurse, then looked over his shoulder. His eyes set upon two bright ones, despite her being sleep deprived.

“Baby, do you mind if I have a minute alone wit’ him first?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. Of course not… I should’ve—”

“No, it’s okay.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re just tryna help. As usual.” She cast her eyes downward. He handed her his phone.

“What’s this for?”

“I imagine my mama is making folks aware of the situation. If anybody calls about Reeves while I’m in this hospital room, you can let ’em know he’s in the hospital for me, and for now, he’s stable but not out of the woods. If you see a message from my grandfather though, don’t respond. His contact number’ll pop up in my phone as ‘GEEZER.’” She didn’t seem surprised by that statement. In fact, she simply nodded in understanding. “My password for my phone is 412172. Just bypass the facial ID and type that in incase someone texts or calls about my father.”

“4…1…2…1…7…2. Got it.” She took his phone. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.” She pointed to the door. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She blew him a kiss then turned and walked away.

He stood several feet away from his father. Pop’s eyes were closed, a bandage over part of his neck, and a tube flowing out of his throat. He approached him, and watched as the nurse entered some information into a computer.

“Can he… can he hear me, you think?”

“It’s possible. He’s asleep. He’s on some pretty heavy pain management medications right now, too, but you can try.” She sighed and offered a tight smile. “I’ll be back in an hour.” He nodded and sat down as she left the room.

Roman folded his jacket over his lap and just looked at his father. He studied his skin… the paleness that had set in. Dad had always been fairly tan, like him. Now he was ghostly, and an unnatural rosiness tinted his cheeks and forehead. They’d shaved his thick black beard away, perhaps in desperation to get access to his trachea and keep the wound clean. He hadn’t seen his father without a beard since he was a small child. He was almost unrecognizable. Worn and crude bluish black tattoos lined his limbs: warring battleships, soldiers holding guns, a skull with a gold tooth, bags of money, and scantily clad women. His father’s veined and scarred hands were folded against his chest. As if he were dead.

Roman blinked back painful tears, then swallowed. There were so many words in the English language, but he couldn’t think of one that fit how he felt at that very moment.

“…Daddy.” His voice croaked. “It’s me. Roman. I… I spoke to Mama, Dakota, and Jordan a little bit ago. They’re all worried and rootin’ for you.” He paused, then slowly glided his hand over his father’s. Just then, he noticed the man’s eyeballs moving beneath the lids. “Daddy? I know you can’t speak… but if you’re hearin’ me, do somethin’, if you can, to let me know.” Nothing happened. But his father’s eyes kept moving about, as if he were dreaming.

Dreaming? That’s it.

“Daddy, I think you might think you’re dreamin’. Your eyes are moving around like you’re havin’ a nightmare. This is real. Your second born is here. The royal pain in your ass.” He smiled sadly. “Wake up if you can.” Suddenly, his father squeezed his fingers. Roman’s chest flooded with warmth. Tears welled in his eyes. “You can hear me? Squeeze again.” And this time he watched as his father pressed his thumb and fingers against his hand. “Old man, I love you.” The tears flowed freely. “You can’t leave me. I know I’m a grown man. I still need… I still need my daddy, though.

“We’re finally friends! Please, Daddy… you told me last time I saw you that you kinda felt like your days were numbered. I dismissed that sort of talk. I don’t like it when you do it, but this time, I could tell you were serious and not just tryna garner sympathy. I need you to, in some way, somehow, tell me who did this to you. I don’t trust that prison to give us justice. For all I know, it was a set-up. You don’t cause no problems in there, but you also don’t pay or bribe the guards. They know who your father is and offer favors to get some of that Wilde money, not realizing that you and Grandpa are estranged.

“I believe they let you lay there for a while, bleedin’ out, because when I called the prison and asked to see the camera footage, they tried to say it wasn’t caught on video, when we both know that is a damn lie. You already told me over the years what was up in there, and I thank you for that. I…” He stopped talking when he noticed his father’s eyes moving again, and this time, open slowly. “Oh, shit.” Roman slowly slipped his hand away from his father’s and got on his feet, his jacket falling to the floor. He didn’t care. Instead he rushed to the man’s side and looked at him—into a mirror of sorts.

Daddy’s lips curled, and Roman smiled back. The man tried to speak but then issued a grunt of pain.

“Nuh uh, don’t talk. Your throat was badly wounded. They did surgery on you, and it’s going to take a while to heal. Even if it does though, they don’t know the extent of the damage just yet.” Daddy blinked, as if trying to convey something. “What? Point to what you need.”

Instead, his father made a motion with his hands, like he was trying to draw in the air.

“Paper and pencil?” His father nodded. “Yes, yes, I can get that for you. I’ll be right back!”

Roman made a mad dash towards the nurse station. He caught sight of Genesis standing up and looking out of a window. She was on the phone, quite a distance away, her back turned towards him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, ma’am. ’Scuse me, nurse, I need a piece of paper and a pen, please for my father, if you don’t mind.” He hitched his thumb towards his father’s room.

“Sure. Hold on just a moment, honey.” The nurse put a caller on hold and spun around in her chair. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a pad of yellow paper with blue lines and the hospital name and logo at the top, then handed him an ink pen that looked as if it had been chewed on the end. He didn’t care—as long as it worked. “Thank you. I’ll bring them back when I’m done.”

He returned to his father. Daddy was sitting up a bit more, his eyes open, but rather sleepy looking. He heard music. His father had turned on an alarm clock radio and ZZ Top’s, ‘La Grange’ was playing. The old man loved that band. He remembered him playing them a lot when he was a kid. Daddy’s eyes were hooded like those of an owl during a slow blink. He took a hold of the pen and pad of paper, then sat a bit straighter, a serious look on his face. With uneasy, shaky hands, the man began to write while Roman stood waiting patiently.

He looked down at his shoes, towards the closed window, and at the machines. Minutes passed, and he didn’t speak. He fell deep into dark thoughts. They smelled like fresh blood and gun smoke. All he could hear was the pen scrolling across the paper, muted chatter from the hallway from visitors and staff beyond the closed door, and the machines burping and beeping. When Daddy was finally finished, he let the pen and paper drop onto the bed, flopped back onto the pillow, and closed his eyes, bobbing his head ever so slightly to the music. It was more than evident that his father was in excruciating pain, but he’d never complain. That was his father’s nature.

Dad had once got bitten by a snake—he laughed and joked all the way to the hospital, all the while his leg was swelling up like a water balloon and he was losing sensation.

The man’s dry lips parted. No words could come out, but they didn’t have to. The way they stared at one another was enough. Roman placed his hand on his father’s for a brief moment, then picked up the pad of paper and read it:

I don’t fuck around when it comes to my boys and your mama. I called your grandfather and told him to lay off you. He did not respond back right away. When he did respond, his rebuttal came in the form of an inmate.

I’ve got a bad liver and heart on top of the damage to my body from the drug abuse. The man who did this to me is Oscar Fuerte. Your grandfather somehow got to him, offered him money. I know this because he said it to me during the attack. He choked me, then shanked me after I wouldn’t stop fighting back. Left me for dead.

Burn this letter. Don’t tell your mother. Don’t tell your brothers. I may never speak again, but me and that fucker of a father of mine are not done talking. I promise you that.

Genesis felt the vibration of Roman’s phone against her thigh. She reached into her jacket pocket and removed his cell, taking note of the number and the contact name attached to it.

“Hello?” she answered after quickly typing in his passcode.

“…Oh. I must have the wrong number. I was trying to reach Roman Wilde,” came a soft, sweet voice drizzled in trepidation.

“Hi. This is Roman’s phone. I’m just answerin’ it for him. Are you his mother?”

“Yes. Who are you , sweetheart?”

Genesis paused. She wasn’t certain if she should just say her name, introduce herself as a friend, or his girlfriend. Technically they were a couple, but she realized even though she thought of herself as his mate, and he’d introduced her as his girlfriend recently when she’d accompanied him to a gathering, she’d never actually said it herself up until that point.

“I’m Genesis, and I’m your son’s girlfriend. He wanted me to answer his phone in case you or his brothers called. He’s in the hospital room visiting with his father right now.”

“Ohhhh, well, hello there. Nice to talk with you, Genesis.” The lady chuckled, but her laughter seemed wrought with distress, too. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Me too.”

An awkward silence passed between them.

“Genesis. Like the first book of the Bible?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, isn’t that somethin’? That’s different, ain’t it? Roman is named after his uncle. My brother. He was a four-star general. A true war hero. You know Roman made it all the way ’til E-6, staff sergeant? He was being promoted like wildfire in the Marines, and movin’ up the ranks until… well, anyway, all that matters is that he landed on his feet. Would you be a sweetheart and please just tell Roman I called?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe he can bring you by the house soon, Genesis, so I can meet you? I’d sure like to see the wonderful young lady my boy is so smitten with. I’ll even fix you a five-star dinner.” She giggled, making Genesis smile.

“I’d like that. Roman talks about you frequently. He’s quite smitten with you, too.”

“Hopefully he sugarcoats everything he says.” Her lighthearted reply lacked a ring of finality. “Genesis, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but… oh, never mind.”

“No, please go ahead with whatever you wanted to say,” she urged.

“Roman would be sore with me if he knew I was sayin’ this about him, but I’m glad my son has someone with him right now at the hospital. He loves his father more than you could imagine. Roman knows… Roman knows that… see, how do I say this? Roman is popular. Like, super well-liked and admired, I guess you could say. He knows a lot of darn folks. Not just in Houston, but all over Texas and plenty of other states, too. He’s charming, humorous as all get out, and sociable when he wants to be.”

“Mmm hmm. I definitely agree. Everywhere we go he spots someone, or someone spots him, and they always seem happy to see him. Roman ain’t never met a stranger.”

“Yes… yes, true… but, ya know, knowin’ a lot of people, and people hangin’ on to you ’cause they think you’re cute, smart, entertaining, or rich ain’t the same as being in good company for the long haul. Roman is kind of a loner. Not completely, but almost, if that makes any sense.”

“I believe I’m following you just fine.”

“He keeps his personal affairs and business to himself. He don’t open up much unless it’s someone he really trusts. And Roman don’t trust easily.” She sighed, as if exasperated from years of being shut out. “He’s my most stubborn and cynical child when it comes to human nature. So, it’s just a blessing to know that my boy has someone that he cares about by his side. His daddy means the world to him, and this situation right here is a cryin’ shame. He shouldn’t be alone. Well, I’ve rambled somethin’ terrible—it’s a weakness of mine. I don’t get to talk much ‘cause I stay in the house more than I should and my husband works a lot. I’ve talked your ear off, and you’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Not in the least. I’m accused of talkin’ too much too, so I think we’ll get along just fine. By the way, what should I call you? I know that you’re divorced from Roman’s father, so I don’t know if—”

“Well, honey, I’m remarried now, and my last name is Hurd. Roman’s father was upset when I got remarried and called my husband, ‘Hurd the Turd.’” They both burst out laughing. “You don’t have to be so formal though, sweetheart. You can just call me Bonnie. My hubby calls me Bon-Bon, and my mother used to call me Bee. Whatever floats your boat. You know, as crazy as Reeves is, and all the hell he put me through, Genesis, he’s the father of my babies…” Her voice trailed and cracked. “I don’t want no harm to come his way. I darn sure don’t want him to die. It would crush the boys. Even though he’s in prison and they’re adults, eventually he’ll get out, and at least he’s still alive and they can talk to their father on the phone and video chat.”

“Yes, there’s still contact, and hope.”

“You have such a nice voice, by the way.”

“Thank you, Bonnie. So do you. You sound like how I imagine the rays of sun do, if they could talk.”

“Oh, now you’re just puttin’ me on!” The woman may have been blushing with the way she sounded. Roman’s mama is a doll baby. I know that his childhood was rough, but it’s obvious she really loves her children. Grown or not. “Sometimes, I have these dreams. I knew something was going to happen to my ex-husband in that terrible prison. I also know I sound plum crazy!” She laughed nervously.

“No ma’am. I believe in God, and sometimes God will try to prepare us for things—warn us, if you will—through our dreams. You don’t sound crazy to me at all.”

“Well, I think you’re just indulging me, but thank you all the same. I’m going to get on off of here. Gotta feed my chickens. I have ’em as pets, and use their eggs, too.”

“Pet chickens? I knew a girl that kept one as a pet. Her name was Feather.”

“Roman always laughs at the names of my chickens! I name a lot of ’em after movie stars, like Cluck Gable. There’s Bawk ’N Roll, he’s an old Rooster but still is fancy around the ladies,” She and Bonnie cracked up together, falling into fits of laughter. They stayed on the phone for a long, long while. Somehow, some way, they both needed this. A safe space to decompress and step away from the torn hearts and torrid tears. A place where things were fun and okay. A place of acceptance of peace.