5. Milan River
MILAN RIVER
Iwas finally starting to settle into something that felt like a routine.
Work kept my mind busy, which was exactly what I needed.
The second things slowed down, my thoughts had a habit of drifting back to the parking garage, the sound of gunshots, and the look on Sam’s face when he stumbled toward me.
That night wasn’t sitting as heavy on my chest as it had before.
I’d stopped blaming myself for not saving him, even if a small part of me still wondered whether I could’ve done something different.
Nia told me that feeling would eventually fade.
I wasn’t completely convinced, but I was trying to believe her.
I stood at the nurses’ station updating a patient’s chart while Nia sat beside me complaining about the lunch she’d ordered.
“I paid almost twenty dollars for that food, and they sent me three little pieces of chicken,” she said, holding up the container like I was supposed to investigate the crime. “Look at this shit.”
I glanced inside before looking back at her. “Maybe they thought you were on a diet.”
“Who told them to think?”
“Nobody. That might be the problem.”
She stared at me for a second before laughing. “See, this is why I like you. You talk shit with a straight face.”
“I’m being serious. You should call and thank them for looking out for your health.”
“I’m about to call and ask where the rest of my damn food is.”
I laughed as she pulled out her phone. The hospital had been busy most of the night, but nothing we couldn’t handle.
I’d already helped discharge two patients and had another waiting on test results.
For once, nobody was bleeding, screaming, or trying to run out of the building before being cleared.
This normal shit felt good.
I was finishing the last note in the chart when Nia stopped talking in the middle of her complaint. Her eyes moved past me toward the hallway, and the way her expression changed made me turn around.
Vice Blackwell stood near the nurses’ station talking to one of the receptionists.
He wore black slacks and a fitted black shirt with the sleeves pushed up far enough to show the tattoos running along his forearms. He was wearing a diamond chain, a diamond watch, and although he wasn’t dressed in a suit like the first time I saw him, he still had the same presence.
People noticed him without trying to make it obvious they were looking.
Nia leaned closer to me. “Why is Vice Blackwell standing at my nurses’ station?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why does he keep looking over here?”
“I don’t know that either.” Her head slowly turned in my direction like she didn’t believe me. “What? I don’t have anything to do with that man.”
Vice thanked the receptionist and started walking toward us before I could finish the sentence. Nia’s eyebrows shot up, but she had enough sense to keep whatever she was thinking to herself.
At least for the moment.
His eyes settled on me as he stopped on the other side of the desk I was at. “Milan...”
“Vice...”
Nia looked between us like she’d just walked into the middle of a conversation she hadn’t been invited to hear. I closed the patient’s chart and set the tablet down before giving him my full attention.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
His eyes shifted toward Nia before returning to me. “Not out here.”
Nia immediately picked up her food container. “Don’t worry about me. I suddenly remembered I have somewhere else to be.”
“You were just complaining about your chicken.”
“I can complain somewhere else.”
She walked away before I could stop her, leaving me alone with Vice and people pretending not to watch us.
I stepped from behind the desk and motioned toward an empty consultation room down the hall. “We can talk in there, but I only have a few minutes.”
“That’s all I need.”
I led the way, feeling his presence behind me the entire time.
The consultation room was small, with a table and a few chairs, but it gave us enough privacy to keep the whole hospital from listening to whatever it was he had to say.
Once the door closed, I crossed my arms and waited for him to explain why he’d shown up at my job.
Vice remained near the door. “You remember anything else?”
I stared at him for a second, frowning in confusion. “You really came all the way up here just to ask me that?”
“I’m here, ain’t I?”
“You could’ve called.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“I’m pretty sure you have people who could’ve gotten it for you. You look like the type.”
“I could’ve.”
I rolled my eyes, not at all surprised by his response. “Then why didn’t you?”
Vice looked at me for a moment before pulling out one of the chairs.
“You planning on standing through this whole conversation?” He asked me like this was about to be a long conversation.
Even so, I said, “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I wanted to ask you in person.”
That was the closest thing to an explanation I was probably going to get. I sat across from him, still trying to figure out why he’d chosen to come himself when he could’ve called the detective.
“I haven’t remembered anything else,” I told him. “I’ve replayed that night more times than I care to admit, and everything I told you is still all I know.”
“You sure?”
The question irritated me more than it should have. “You think I haven’t been trying to remember?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” I shifted in my chair, feeling the frustration I’d worked hard to control start climbing again.
“I hear that conversation every time I close my eyes. I remember the gunshots, your cousin falling in front of me, and having his blood all over my hands. Trust me, if there was something else, I would’ve told you. ”
Vice didn’t interrupt or try to defend himself. He sat there quietly, watching me until I’d gotten everything out.
“I ain’t say you didn’t try,” he said after a moment.
“But you made it sound like I was holding something back.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand across his jaw. For the first time since he walked into the room, he looked tired. Not physically tired the way I felt after working twelve hours, but like his mind hadn’t stopped moving since his cousin died.
“I found out my cousin was asking questions before he got killed,” he finally said. “Questions about me.”
“What kind of questions?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Do you think it had something to do with what I heard?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I came back.”
His tone had changed. The edge was gone, and for the first time, I understood that he wasn’t questioning whether I’d been truthful. He was searching for something to make Sam’s death make sense.
“I’m sorry,” I said, relaxing my arms. “I really don’t remember anything else.”
Vice nodded. “I believe you.”
There was something about the way he said it that made me pause. He wasn’t just accepting my answer so he could move on. He genuinely believed me.
“How are you holding up?” I asked, what I had been wondering for days, what I had been wanting to call or text him and ask.
His eyes met mine. “I’m straight.”
I wasn’t convinced and let him know I didn’t believe it. “I don’t think you are.”
He smirked as he leaned back in his seat.
“You calling me a liar?” He asked.
I shook my head.
“I’m saying you just buried your cousin. I don’t think anybody would be okay after that.”
He held my gaze for a second before looking away.
“I’ll be a’ight.” Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his thighs and asked me, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You sleeping?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me that?”
“Probably because you look tired.”
I sat back, offended. “I’m working a twelve-hour shift. I’m supposed to look tired.”
“You looked tired when I walked in.”
“Thank you for noticing.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I know, which makes it worse.”
This time he smiled, though it disappeared almost as quickly as it came. Seeing it changed his whole face, making him look less like the man everybody in the hospital seemed afraid to approach and more like somebody I could almost imagine having a normal conversation with—almost.
I checked the time on my phone and stood. “I need to get back.”
Vice stood with me. “You still got my number?”
The business card was tucked inside my bag, but I wasn’t telling him I’d looked at it more than once. “Somewhere.”
“If you remember anything, call me.”
“I know.”
“If anything feels off, call me.”
That made me look at him. “What do you mean by off?”
“Anything that don’t feel right.”
“Vice, nothing has happened since that night.”
“That don’t mean it won’t.”
The reminder made my stomach tighten, but I refused to let him see it. “My building has security, and the police already spoke with them. I’m fine.”
“I hope so.”
Something about that response annoyed the hell out of me. “You say that like you don’t believe it.”
“I say it like I don’t know enough to believe anything yet.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t. He opened the door and stepped aside, allowing me to walk out first. Nia stood at the nurses’ station with her food untouched in front of her, pretending she hadn’t been waiting for us to come back.
Vice stopped beside me. “Call if you need me.”
I just nodded.
His eyes held mine for another second before he walked away. I stood here watching him until Nia cleared her throat loudly enough to pull my attention back.
“What?”
She looked toward the hallway where Vice had disappeared, then back at me. “You wanna explain why Vice Blackwell just came up here looking for you?”
“He wasn’t looking for me. He had a question.”
“He drove to the hospital, came to your floor, asked somebody where you were, and pulled you into a private room.” She slowly nodded. “Sounds like he was looking for you.”
“It was about Sam.”
“He couldn’t call?”
“He doesn’t have my number.”
Nia stared at me. “You have his, though.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. It just is.”
She smiled like she’d caught something I hadn’t. “Okay.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Whatever you’re doing with your face.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You look like you’re about to start some shit.”
“I’m just thinking.”
“Oh Lord…”
She laughed and pushed her food away. “Girl, do you know how many women would love for Vice Blackwell to walk into their job asking for them?”
“Good for them.”
“You don’t care?”
“Should I?”
Nia studied me for a minute before shaking her head. “You really are new to Atlanta.”
“I grew up here.”
“You’ve been gone too long.”
I picked up the tablet I’d left on the desk and returned to my charting before she could turn Vice’s visit into something it wasn’t. He’d come because of his cousin. Whatever Nia thought she saw between us existed only in her imagination.
The rest of my shift passed without anything else worth talking about.
Nia brought Vice up twice, and I ignored her both times until she finally got bored and moved on to gossiping about one of the doctors.
By the time morning came around, my feet hurt, my back was stiff, and all I wanted was a shower and a bed.
“Text me when you get home,” Nia said as we stepped into the elevator.
“I did last time.”
“Keep the streak going.”
“You know you’re nosy, right?”
“I prefer concerned.”
“You can prefer whatever you want. You’re still nosy.”
She laughed as the elevator doors opened onto the parking level. “Drive safe.”
“You too, boo.”
We headed in opposite directions, and I found myself scanning the rows of cars before I could stop myself. There was no black SUV waiting with its lights off, no strange man watching me, and nothing that should’ve made me feel uneasy.
Vice had gotten inside my head.
That was all.
I climbed into my SUV and pulled out of the garage, turning on my playlist to keep myself awake during the drive home.
Morning traffic was already picking up, but it didn’t take long to reach my apartment building.
The security guard at the front desk greeted me by name as I walked inside, and seeing him there helped settle the small bit of uneasiness Vice had stirred up.
My building was secure.
Visitors couldn’t get upstairs without checking in, and cameras covered every entrance. Nobody could simply walk in off the street and reach my apartment without being noticed.
I stepped onto the elevator, pressed my floor, and leaned against the wall while it carried me up. The only thing on my mind was getting out of my scrubs and sleeping for as long as my body allowed.
The hallway was empty when I reached my floor. I dug my keys from my bag and walked toward my apartment, but something made me slow down before I reached the door.
It wasn’t open.
The lock didn’t look damaged.
Nothing appeared out of place.
Still, a strange feeling settled over me as I slid the key inside.
I stood here for a second, telling myself I was being ridiculous. Vice had spent five minutes questioning whether I was safe, and now I was letting every normal sound and shadow feel like a threat.
“Get it together, Milan,” I muttered before unlocking the door.
The apartment looked the same as it had when I left. The boxes were still stacked near the wall, the blanket I’d used the day before was draped across the couch, and the kitchen light was off.
I locked the door behind me and set my bag down, but the uneasy feeling stayed.
My eyes moved around the room until they landed on the kitchen counter.
A white piece of paper sat in the center, and I didn’t remember leaving it there.
Every part of me stiffened as I walked closer. A single bullet rested on top of the note, and for more than a few seconds, I couldn’t make myself reach for it.
The words were written in thick black ink: YOU SHOULD’VE MINDED YOUR BUSINESS.
My hands started shaking instantly. I backed away from the counter and grabbed my phone from my bag, nearly dropping it as I searched for the business card I’d tucked inside one of the pockets.
I dialed Vice’s number before I could think about what I was doing and held the phone to my ear, keeping my eyes on the bullet.
He answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?” My mouth opened, but nothing came out. “Yo’… Hello?”
“Vice…”
There was a brief pause before he asked, “Who this?”
“It’s Milan.”
His tone changed immediately. “What happened?”
I swallowed hard, but my mouth had gone dry. “Somebody’s been in my apartment...”