Bianca
My nerves are a fucking wreck. I’m shaking. It’s been a while since we spent some time together. I was really looking forward to spending time with my husband tonight. Simmy said a lot without saying much. I know this shit must be serious if he’s thinking about making me leave the city.
Oh, my God, I hope Chauncey is okay. Simmy would lose his fucking mind if something happened to him, and believe me, the city is not ready for the bullshit that would follow.
I really don’t want to call Mrs. Lynn and relay this message. If Simmy couldn’t call Mrs. Lynn, he had his reasons. I grabbed my phone to call her, and she answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello...”
“Hi, Mrs. Lynn. How are you?”
“Bianca, I’m good. How are you? Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure… But my husband wanted me to call you and tell you to meet him at Teflon Hills Memorial Hospital.”
“Bianca, did something happen to my baby?”
“Honestly, Mrs. Lynn, Simmy didn’t tell me much. I don’t think he could talk, so he sent me a text message instead of calling.”
“Thanks, Bianca. I’m on my way. Send Simmy a message and let him know. I said, ‘Whatever niggas sent my son to Teflon Hills Memorial Hospital, them niggas better not live to see Sunday, and that’s an order from me.’”
“I will relay the message.”
Click.
I’m glad I got that out of the way. I need to check whether Amirya can ride with me to pick up Simmy’s car. I could have it towed to the house, but since there’s some bullshit going on, it’s not safe to have random people dropping shit off at my house. Amirya answers the phone on the first ring.
“Bianca, tell me what the fuck is going on because True is not saying much.”
If True is in the mix, something bad happened.
“Amirya, I don’t know shit. Simmy didn’t tell me much. I know something happened to Chauncey.”
“Bianca, bitch, it’s all on social media. I’m about to send you these screenshots. Chauncey got into a shootout with some niggas.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes, they showed Chauncey’s Range Rover on the news, and it looks bad. Girl motherfuckas were saying, “RIP to CHAUNCEY.”
See, motherfuckas are so fucking disrespectful; don’t put RIP in front of my brother’s name. I’m praying it’s not true.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think he’s dead. Simmy would’ve said something. I need you to ride with me to pick up Simmy’s Maybach on Lucky Drive.”
“Best friend, something is going on because True called me to pick up his car too; he left it on Miller Road. He said something about a roadblock and that he had to back up and try another direction because he was dirty as fuck. I haven’t heard from Aisha.”
“Girl, this is a lot to take in. Try calling Aisha to see if she answers. I don’t like this shit at all. It seems like they were all close to each other.”
“Yes, because the news is saying Chauncey got shot on Armstrong Parkway. I called Aisha, but she didn’t answer. Aisha has to be with Coop or something, so she can’t talk.”
“I’m on my way. Give me about 30 minutes. Keep trying, Aisha. There’s a reason she’s not answering.”
“I will be safe, Bianca.”
“I will.”
I wish I had Rhy’s number. I haven’t heard from my cousin in over a year. I know Rhy and Chauncey are dealing with some dysfunctional ass shit right now, but I know she wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her husband.
I refuse to log onto social media to be nosy because I’ll fuck around and pop off if I see anything next to Chauncey’s name that doesn’t belong there.
It takes me about 3 hours to pick up Simmy’s car and pick up Amirya. I finally made it back home safely. Aisha, Amirya, and I rode through Armstrong Parkway to see what was going on.
They had Chauncey’s Range Rover on a stretcher. It looks bad. I’m waiting for Simmy to call me, as he promised. My phone starts ringing, and it’s him.
“Hello.”
God, I love this man, and I’ll lose my mind if something happens to him.
“I love you, B...”
“I love you too, Simmy. Are you okay?”
“I’m good; I could be doing better.”
“I know.”
“Are you able to come home now?”
“Not right now. I still have some business to oversee.”
“Okay.”
“Wife…”
“Yes, husband.”
“I need you to do me one more favor.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need you to meet Rhy at the airport in about three hours.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear. Simmy wants me to meet Rhy at the airport. I wasn’t expecting that. I swear, these past few hours have been crazy.
“How y’all get in touch with Rhy?”
“Intel.”
“So, have you spoken with her?”
“No, but I’m finna make that call.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
I close my eyes.
“I can hear it in your voice.”
“Are you sure she’ll come?”
“If I call, she’s coming.”
“Is there anything else you need me to do?”
“No.”
A pause settles between us.
“But tell me what’s wrong, though.”
“I’m good.”
“Aye, B, I know you, so tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
Simmy already knows why I’m mad.
“I’ve been wanting to speak with Rhy for a minute. How come I wasn’t privy to the Intel?”
“Aye, that’s a conversation you got to have with Rhy when you see her.”
“Trust me, I will.”
“I love you, Bianca; you’ve got my heart and soul in the palm of your pretty-ass hands. I know I fucked up our plans, but I promise I’m going to make this shit up to you.”
“Good night, Simmy, and be safe.”
“It’s like that.”
“No, but I’m in my feelings; that’s it.”
“And I’m sorry for that.”
Click.
I stare at my phone for a moment.
I love Simmy, but right now I’m in my feelings, and I have every right to be. I find it crazy that Simmy has had Rhy’s number this whole time. If Simmy’s calling Rhy, then whatever happened to Chauncey is worse than what he’s telling me.
One thing I know for sure?
Rhy only comes running back to this city for one nigga, Chauncey Benyier.