18. Saved
SAVED
BLUE
I’m bordering on hysterical when Bishop finally arrives at the safe room. Mama is in trouble; I can feel it in my gut. I know she calls me for everything, but something in her voice was different. Something terrifying that I could hear even through the staticky line.
I need to get to my mama!
“Blue, please try to calm down. Bishop is coming,” Tiny pleads.
I don’t even turn to look at her as I continue beating on the door and yelling for someone to let me out. I can’t think rationally, but I know Tiny is right that I need to calm down, but the scream that I heard…
“Whoever was shootin’ is definitely gonna know where we are with all that racket you're making,” Cherry snidely comments.
“Shut up, hoe, this room is soundproof.”
“Then what the fuck is she doin’ all that hollerin’ for?”
“Cause it’s cameras in here; somebody knows she wants out.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Now, shut yo ass up.”
I can always count on Dee to have my back even though I’m acting like a complete mental patient right now.
To be fair, I forgot about the soundproofing.
But Dee is right, one of the prospects will see me.
Hopefully, whatever was going on is under control, and it won’t take long to get me out of here.
Only the lord knows what happened because it’s always something going on around here. But I don’t have time to be on lockdown. Mama needs me.
When the door finally opens, I run full speed into Bishop’s arms. I’m glad to see there isn’t a scratch on him, and he’s not hurt. I wouldn’t have had the brain capacity to process him being shot or something.
“I have to get to my mama. She called screaming about Chauncey. I thought he was still in jail. I need to go to her,” I hurriedly rush out in one breath.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll go check on your mama. You stay here where…”
“Absolutely fucking not! I’m not stayin’ here while you go play hero. Who the fuck do you think I am? That’s my mama, hollerin’ for me!” I yell forcefully.
“Fuck! I knew this was gonna be like pullin’ teeth,” Bishop mumbles, running his hand through his beard.
“Well, you better pretend to be a dentist because I ain’t stayin’ here. Let’s go,” I say, moving in the direction of the stairs.
Bishop grabs my arm. “Stop. Look at me,” Bishop says, making me look at him.
Those hazel eyes are two flames full of anger. Bishop always has the demeanor of a clergyman: serious, resolute, and unmovable in his beliefs, but this feels different. I can see that I’m dealing with Bishop, the Vice President of the Hellhounds.
“We can’t go off the rails. I need that cool, calm, collected Blue. I know she’s in there.” Bishop searches my face.
I take a deep breath and calm down considerably because he’s right. I need to think rationally. I can’t go charging in to save Mama without knowing what’s going on. With Chauncey involved, there’s no telling what’s happening.
“Okay. You’re right,” I answer finally, giving a solemn nod.
Bishop nods, pulling me in for a kiss. “You still got the piece I gave you?”
“Of course,” I respond, showing him the gun I had tucked into the back of my shorts.
“Good, you’ll need to protect yourself. But we ain’t goin’ into Carol Anne’s guns blazing. I need to find out exactly what we’re walking into…”
I go to interrupt, but Bishop cuts me off. He shakes his head, holding up his large hand. I huff, but I stay quiet.
“I ain’t losing nobody goin’ in blind. Especially when your little ass is insisting on goin’. We’re gonna head to Carol Anne’s place, but we ain’t goin’ inside until I hear from my boys. So, before we even leave here, promise me you’ll do what I say when I say it. If you can’t… you ain’t goin’.”
“You can’t tell me that I can’t go…”
“I’m your fuckin’ man! I will tell you! This is not the time to be hardheaded, Blue. It’s too much at stake. We don’t have time to stand here arguing. Either you will follow my lead or stay your ass here.”
“Fine. I’ll follow your lead,” I acquiesce.
“I swear to God. Stubborn as the day is long.” Bishop shakes his head, taking my hand in his and leading me up the stairs.
I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect Brick, of all people, to be waiting down the block from Mama’s house with Aunt Delores. I’m so confused by the sight that it takes my brain a minute to process what my eyes are seeing.
“Aunt Delores? What’s goin’ on?” I question, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Oh, baby girl, Carol Anne has gotten into some real shit this time. Excuse my French.”
My eyes balloon because my Auntie is an old school Christian woman. Everything is a sin, especially “the devil’s language”. For her to cuss means there’s absolutely something to worry about.
“Carol Anne called me, and I got outta my bed to come see what was goin’ on.
She never calls this time of night. When I got to the house, I heard a ruckus coming from inside.
Before I could get inside to see what was happenin’, this young man stopped me.
” Aunt Delores shakes her head, looking at Brick.
“I was tryin’ to call you, but the call wouldn’t go through. ”
“That’s my fault. I didn’t have reception. Mama called me, but the line dropped before I could see what was going on.” I look to Brick for an explanation since he seems to know what the hell is happening.
“I was following Chauncey cause he owes us… a favor,” Brick replies cryptically, looking over at Bishop.
“I’m assuming by us you mean the…” I look at my Aunt before choosing my words carefully. “Umm, your employer,” I finish.
Brick nods and my anger rises. Even after all I did to get the money to pay back the cartel, Chauncey’s bitch ass went right back to them. I swear he’s the most toxic, gutter piece of shit I’ve ever encountered in my life.
“So, why are y’all standing down here in the dark? Is Mama okay?” I ask after my brain finally catches up to the situation.
Aunt Delores looks away, and Brick gives me a look so filled with pity that my heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I don’t want to admit what I heard on the other end of that phone, but that loud sound wasn’t ordinary. It was a gunshot. Just like the ones I heard at the clubhouse.
“Auntie Delores? Is Mama okay?” I grab her by the hands, making her look at me.
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. The tears that stream down her soft brown cheeks from beneath her lids are my undoing. I want to fall apart right where I stand, but I can’t. I have to find out what happened.
“I-is my mama dead?” I choke out, praying that I’m reading the situation wrong.
“I don’t know, baby. I heard a gunshot, and Carol Anne fell to the floor, screaming. Chauncey and some strange lookin’ men are still in there. I wanted to call the police, but this young man said not to. You know nobody else in this neighborhood is gonna call either.”
I do know that nobody will call the police because the police don’t protect the people who live in this neighborhood. Most people here mind their business and keep to themselves. It’s not a horrible place to live, but it isn’t the safest either.
I try to slow my breathing to think rationally. I put my ER training to work as I begin calculating the situation.
It’s been less than thirty minutes since Mama called. Depending on where she was shot, we probably have plenty of time to save her if we move now. There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, and my real supplies are in the bathroom under the sink.
“We need to move now,” I say, looking at Bishop. “I have medical supplies, and I can triage Mama until we can get her to the hospital.
Bishop’s face is full of concern. When his eyes flash above my head, I turn to look at what he’s staring at. Brick, who has been extremely quiet, is shaking his head no.
“I can save her,” I whisper brokenly.
“No, baby. You can’t.” Bishop pulls me into his big body, sheltering me from the pain as best he can.
I let out a heart-wrenching sob. I lost both of my parents to gun violence, and I couldn’t save either one of them. I tried so hard to help my mother, but in the end I still wasn’t able to keep her with me.
Bishop stands with his arms wrapped around me as I continue to cry into his chest. The leather smell of his cut and the spicy scent of his cologne are giving me the comfort I need. It takes me a minute to pull myself together, but once I do, there’s only one conclusion.
“Chauncey is a dead motherfucker. What do we need to do?” I ask, wiping away my tears.