Crazy Summer (37 page)

Bookie made eye contact through his own set of binoculars. His sight was vivid, and he noticed the guy watching him. Bookie wasn’t aware that it was the feds, but he knew no ordinary neighbor would be watching him. Bookie grinned and slightly nodded his head. He sat his binoculars down and turned up a Red Bull energy drink to his lips followed by a Newport. He never removed himself from the window. He drew on the cigarette and French rolled the smoke through his nose.

Tomorrow he would be back in Augusta.

*****

Summer took a casual stroll through the rundown apartments. She appeared to be nothing more than a cracked out junkie in the eyes of her neighbors. She walked up to three guys leaning up against a black SS Impala that was bumping a cut from T.I.’s
Trap Musik
CD. Blunts were being passed, and Grey Goose bottles were half filled sitting on the roof of the car. She evaluated the three men’s attire, which was nothing more than Dickie pants, t-shirt, and Air-Force Ones. She noticed the youngest guy, who appeared to be no more than sixteen, looking at her with a strong, intense stare. He didn’t look familiar to her, though.

“You know me?” she asked, hoping he didn’t.

The young stranger cocked his head sideways a little. He knew he had seen Summer somewhere before, but by her hair being cut and with her having lost so much weight she was hard to recognize. Just then a little boy about twelve years old came outside with a basketball and a ferocious dribble game. His ball handle was out of sight. Everybody turned their head in his direction. Suddenly, the young guy looked back at Summer.

“You know the twins?” he asked, sounding unsure, but he was on point with the question.

Summer shook her head and responded, “No.”

If he were unsure, why would she refresh his memory? Summer copped her twenty sack of powder and made her way to a payphone. She dialed home and spoke with her mother and children for the first time in nearly two months. They discussed several issues, such as why she hadn’t call, where she’d been, and so on. Her mother told her about the twins. Jermaine was still dedicated to playing basketball, and Jeremy was slowly turning toward the streets.

“He’s growin’ dreads, Summa, and got a mouth full of gold teeth,” her mother said from the other end.

Summer closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was getting dark, and the passing cars on Olive Road were driving with their headlights on. Instantly, she thought about the possibility of her mother’s phone being tapped, so she ended the call.

A smoke grey Dooley truck was parked across the street from Summer’s mother’s house. Inside were two federal agents dressed down in jeans and t-shirts, and with enough surveillance equipment to hear the inside of the White House from Georgia. The two agents exchanged stares when Summer hung up the phone.

“That was her,” one of them said.

“Twenty more seconds and we could’ve tracked her,” said the other agent. He leaned back in the rear of the Dooley and punched in a number on his cell phone. “We had her. We lost her,” he said quickly.

“She’ll call back. Just stay on her,” the voice said from the other end.

Summer got back to her apartment, closed the door, and chained it. She flipped off the lights and quickly moved to the window, parting the blinds. The parking lot was crawling with young hustlers carrying big pistols. One guy in particular, who was dressed in a D. Wade jersey and baggy shorts, caught her interest.

Suddenly her mind flashed, and Summer was laid up in MCG Hospital in a private room and surrounded by a web of plastic tubes and oxygen tanks. The doctors didn’t know what was wrong with her, and it would take them damn near an eternity to find out. Summer didn’t even know what was wrong with herself.

At this point, it wouldn’t do her any good to try to recognize any of the faces around her. Voices weren’t familiar now. Small talk was going on, but it didn’t concern her. Something about a diet Sprite and a chicken salad without cucumbers. Thirty minutes later, she slipped into a coma, her own personal world where everything was important.

*****

Her mother was talking to her from across the kitchen table. Summer was younger, twelve maybe. She looked up at the doorway and saw Rodney standing there. She loved her brother, admired him even more. His swagger stood out from the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. He walked up to her and playfully pulled her ponytail. She frowned.

“Stop, boy,” she said with more love than hate in her voice.

She wasn’t really hard up. However, she saw an opportunity in the younger hustlers. She went into the kitchen, opened the fridge, removed a Tropicana apple juice, and took two good swallows. With her dry throat relieved, she went back to the window and parted the blinds again. The guy was gone from where he was just standing. She scanned the parking lot as far as her eyes could see. Amongst the crowd, the D. Wade jersey wasn’t there. Then from the corner, she noticed four cars creeping through with their parking lights. Undercover narcotic agents, she thought to herself.

“This should be interesting,” she mumbled, then removed a cigarette from a pack that was stuffed in her pocket. 

She went into the kitchen and turned on one of the front stove burners. After lighting the cigarette, she put it to her lips and went back to the window. She parted the blinds again and peered out to the illuminated parking lot where high-powered flashlights were moving and controlling the night. Summer put the cigarette to her mouth again. Not once did she inhale. She didn’t smoke.

When she walked outside, the officers were searching everybody who looked like they needed searching. She looked around for a few seconds. It didn’t take her long to scope the scene, and then several shots were fired from the small side of the apartment. Next, there was silence. Within seconds, more rounds were fired. This time it sounded like an AK or an M-16. It was fully automatic and sounded too close for the officers not to respond. Some left on foot, hoping they could catch the shooters in the midst of whatever action they were in. The rest jumped in the unmarked cars. Summer thumped the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and began walking at a snail’s pace, moving as if she was dysfunctional or something. Her vision started to blur, but she continued to move. She slowly stepped back up on the concrete sidewalk and leaned against the red brick wall.

She heard a voice. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put a face to it. Her hand grasped at something. It seemed like the oxygen was being cut off from her brain. Everything seemed to be spinning now, and when she stumbled, there was nothing there to catch her.

No pressure.

No stress.

No pain.

No gain.

Rodney grabbed a meaty neck bone from her plate and ripped off a piece of meat with his teeth.

“Goddammit, Rodney! Don’t be puttin’ yo’ nasty-ass hands in that girl’s plate.”

Mama sho’ can cuss,
Summer thought. She sounded just like a little girl. It was good to be back there. Home. In Barton Village. This was life how she remembered it. Easygoing. Everything was everything, and then it turned.

*****

It was all a blank empty spot. She was breathing, but she couldn’t see anything. She felt several tiny needles pinching her brain and her body. It wasn’t painful to her, though. More like numbness or something. The voices came back again. Only this time, she could hear them clearly.

“Summa, this is Mama, baby. If you can hear me, jus’ give some kind of sign.”

Summer didn’t respond; however, she heard everything clearly. Her kids were there, also. Everybody was grieving around her hospital bed. She heard Lil’ Danté’s voice. How bad she wanted to open her eyes and look at him, but she didn’t know if she could stomach the situation about her being in this position. She wanted to see her family. She enjoyed that part of life with a passion, but she made a commitment. Just one. And that was to never jeopardize her family for her actions.

Sixteen days later, she opened her eyes. The IV needle was aggravating as hell. She’d been laid up nearly a month in a gown that exposed her entire backside. Summer had lost more weight; she was probably weighing ninety-five pounds soaking wet. There wasn’t a doubt she wouldn’t gain it back. She knew she had to in order to move how she wanted to.

The first face that came into her blurry vision was Bookie’s. Her heart fluttered, but she didn’t show any emotions. She felt his hand caress the side of her face as he stared into her eyes. She looked on blankly, forcing herself to appear calm. His eyes turned into a cold panic. He grabbed her hand and tried hard to force a smile.

“How you feelin’?” he asked.

She stared silently, directly into his eyes. Then she looked around the hospital room. There was a doctor at her side and an assistant in a white coat and holding a clipboard. She slowly turned her head to the other side and squinted at the sight of the beautiful blue skies showing through the open window blinds.

The doctor moved closer and removed a small penlight from his top jacket pocket. When he flashed it into each of her eyes to see if she was completely aware, she began laughing uncontrollably and shaking her head side to side as if something was seriously wrong with her. She tried sitting up, but the doctors wouldn’t let her.

“I got a meeting to go to,” she finally whispered, her throat scratchy.

Bookie grabbed both of her shoulders, and she felt his powerful hands squeezing her.

“What’s wrong with you, Summer?” he asked, a lump forming in his throat.

Summer raised her eyebrows and stretched her eyes wide open, creating a very silly-looking expression across her face. The doctor separated Bookie from Summer and pulled him to the side.

“Let us examine her alone, sir,” he said with a confident hand resting on Bookie’s shoulder. “We don’t really know her condition.”

Bookie stared at the doctor. Sweat beaded upon his forehead, and he started to grind his teeth. He turned around to look at Summer. She was his heart, his fiancée, his soul. Now she acted as if she didn’t know him at all.

“I’ll wait outside,” he barely said, and then added, “Ask her do she know me.”

The doctor patted Bookie on his back. “I will.”

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout while I’m in here. See if she recognizes my face.” His voice grew harsher.

He walked back to Summer and stood before her.

“Look at me, Summer,” he demanded. “Do you know who I am?”

Summer looked to the corner at several colorful balloons that were bunched together. Then she drew in her legs and pulled the sheets over her head. Bookie and the doctors just stood silently. Bookie’s eyes turned cold just to keep from crying. This wasn’t part of the plan. He knew that for sure. He looked to the doctor.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Listen, sir, if you would please have a seat in the waiting room and let us deal with this situation…”

“This ain’t no muthafuckin’
situation
! This is my heart!”