Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) (16 page)

“D’Artagnan, do you know anything about motorcycles?” I asked.

“I own a Yamaha.”

“What does Ducatta mean?”

“Ducati,” he corrected.

“Oh.”

“It’s a type of bike; they are very expensive.”

“Well, one of the guys in the shop said that all of the guys were driving Ducatis,” I explained.

“Well, if they all had Ducatis, I bet you they are a part of some kind of organized crime. A gang of bike riders who all have a Ducati? That’s unheard of.”

D’Artagnan opened my car door and placed both of his hands on my shoulders. “You be careful out there, and call me any time…day or night.”

“Thank you.” I patted his arm.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed that one of the bikes in the parking lot was orange just like back at the coffee shop. I drove back through the parking lot again and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. I drove by the bikes slowly, writing down all of the tag numbers. Beyoncé sang to me, and I silenced her; I didn’t feel like talking to Jyme right now. I had to make up two more shops this afternoon.

I pulled out of the mall parking lot and headed to the next assignment. Jyme called three more times, and I silenced the Beyoncé song every single time. I had two more assignments, I needed to cover them both and handle my paper work before I could end my day.

I pulled into my next assignment and took out my phone to text Jyme.

“I am seriously backed up at work. I cannot talk right now, and I will be late this evening. I will call you when I get to the condo.” Then, I put my phone on vibrate.

I checked out the clean parking lot, and then I walked into the shop and went straight to the ladies’ restroom. I did this same routine for the next three shops. I tried to stay at least an hour at each location, and now I was fighting afternoon traffic with two more shops still left to visit.

I was in standstill traffic when I felt my phone vibrate. I pulled it out and I had twenty-seven missed calls. My last six calls were from Chelle, and the eight before that were from Ayashe. I clicked on Chelle’s name. And the Bluetooth started dialing.

“Oh God, Cricket! You had us all worried,” she yelled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked frantically.

“You need to call Jyme as soon as you hang up with me,” she said.

“What’s going on?”

“Okay, all that motorcycle shit this morning has escalated to an attempted murder charge. Jyme called Sheen, who then called Ayashe, who then called me, and filled me in on what happened,” she explained.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know all the details, but you should really talk to him.”

“That’s why he’s stressing out about this.”

“He’s just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

I see that now; I should call him back, I feel terrible.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he is freaking out. That guy that was standing outside with you during the attack—”

“Almost attack,” I corrected her.

“WHAT THE FUCK EVER, CRICKET!” she yelled. “Anyway, he got jumped and beat the hell up. Girl, he is in intensive care.”

“What?!”

“Girl, it’s all over the news, and they are saying this is some kind of organized crime mob shit.”

“SHIT,” I yelled.

The phone beeped; it was Jyme.

“Chelle, call Ayashe, and let her know I’m alright. This is Jyme calling me now.”

“Okay, call me back,” she demanded.

I clicked over.

“Hello?” I breathed.

“CRICKET, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” he yelled.

“On my way to Federal Way.”

“COME TO THE CONDO NOW,” he growled.

“Jyme, I just got off the phone with Chelle and she told me what—”

He interrupted me. “I CALLED YOU SO MANY FUCKING TIMES, CRICKET. WHERE WERE YOU?” he shouted.

“Please, stop yelling at me,” I cried.

“WHERE WERE YOU?”

“Jyme, I was working.”

“I’M GOING TO ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME WHERE YOU WERE AND IF YOU TRY TO SUGAR COAT YOU’RE WHEREABOUTS AGAIN, I’M COMING TO FIND YOU!”

“Jyme, I haven’t been anywhere, but work; haven’t done anything, but work today, I swear,” I cried out.

“Then why didn’t you answer your phone, Cricket? Are you cheating on me?”

“NO!” I felt another attack coming; I was getting way too upset. “Why would you say that to me?” I asked through sobs.

“You’re cheating on me because my dick is too big, and you’re scared it will hurt; you’re cheating because I live on the reservation and I come from shit.”

I felt the full-blown attack coming over me. I pulled the car over and put it in park; the doors unlocked automatically. Jyme was still accusing me of cheating and comparing me to Elle. I was trying to shut him out by covering my ears and rocking violently. Two young girls were beating the windows on both sides of the rental. Jyme screamed my name over a dozen times, and I couldn’t speak back.

I heard someone scream off in the distant, “She’s having an asthma attack.”

I ripped my top three buttons off my shirt, trying everything I could to get some air down my throat.

One of the young girls yanked the driver’s side door open. “Miss, the ambulance is on the way. Do you have an asthma pump?” I touched her throat twice and shook my head. Jyme started shouting something to the girl, and I blacked out.

When I woke, my throat was throbbing, I tried to touch it, but my arm wouldn’t go that far. I opened my eyes, but they felt so heavy now. I heard a beeping sound and looked above my head. I had two machines on my left and one on the right, all connected to me. I tried to yell, but something covered my mouth, and I felt a tingle in my throat. I let all of the memories come to surface, and I realized something: every single time I’ve had one of my panic attacks Jyme has been the sole cause of it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he was toxic.

I growled out a couple of cries, and the door flew opened. Jyme’s was the only face I saw, but I heard other voices in the room. Jyme held my hand and kissed my forehead. The doctor from the restaurant parking lot was there, too. He smiled at me, and I pointed at him.

He held my fingers in his hand and rubbed my neck with his old hands. “Cricket, you’re in the hospital, love. You had another attack and lost consciousness,” he explained. “Give me a thumbs up if you understand me.” He held my hand out, and I gave him a thumb up. “Now we’re going to pull that uncomfortable tube from down your throat. I need you to cough as hard as you can when I tell you to, okay?”

I gave the doctor a thumbs up without him even telling me to. He grinned and told me I was a good girl. Two more people entered the room and moved Jyme back away from me. I stretched and reached for his hand; I shook from side to side in protest. His hand reappeared in mine, and I calmed instantly. They shifted around Jyme, and then the good doctor counted to three. He told me to cough now, and I did as he said. They yanked the tube out, and I gasped for air. The air was cold and stung my throat in a good way.

“Cricket, I don’t want you to try to speak until tomorrow morning,” the good doctor advised. I gave him the thumbs up, and he smiled. Jyme still held one of my hands, and the good doctor had the other one. A woman was unhooking a mouthpiece from around my mouth and neck. Once I was free of the contraption, I smiled. Jyme kissed my cheek and then my forehead. The good doctor told me he would be right back; he was going to see if, and when, I was going to be discharged. I gave him the thumbs up again and he rubbed my hand.

Jyme pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. He had bags under his eyes. He turned the palm of my hand up, and he melted into me. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face into my palm and fingers. He laid his head down on my lap, and I felt the tears rolling down his face. I tried to pull away from him, but he wrapped his arms around me; not letting me budge. He held on to me so tightly, with his heaving, and I heard his whispered cries. I shifted my legs and tried to kick my leg out. He didn’t turn to look at me, so I gave up. I wanted him off me; I couldn’t trust myself with him anymore. I needed to think this out, but with him wrapped up around me, there was no use in a clear thought. Tears welled up in my eyes just as the good doctor came back in the room. Jyme stood up, walked away from the bed, and still didn’t look at me.

As soon as the doctor saw my face, he turned to Jyme. “We talked about this. I told you she needed to stay calm,” he scolded.

Jyme turned and our eyes locked; his face was red, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked beautiful when he cried; I’ve always thought men look so sexy when they cry.

I looked around the room, and there were so many arrangements of flowers and balloons. I pointed at the balloons, and the good doctor smiled. “Yes, you are well loved.”

I shook my head and tapped on my wrist three times.

“Oh, the time?” The doctor pulled back his coat sleeve; I shook my head at him.

“Twenty-two hours,” Jyme said.

The good doctor understood now and nodded. “You will be discharged first thing in the morning, and I want to see you at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon in my office.”

I gave him a soldier’s salute, and he called me a cheeky girl. The doctor left the room, and Jyme, now dry-eyed, walked back over to the bed. He held my hand and straightened his back like he was about to say something, but there was a knock at the door. Jyme told the visitor to come in, and at first, all I saw was nothing but balloons. Then, she stepped in.

Mrs. JJ held a potted plant, balloons, and a wicker basket. Jyme stood up and helped her with all of her belongings. There were a couch and two chairs across on the farthest wall in the private hospital suite. I lay back and wondered who in the hell I had killed in a previous life. I had been handed a hot bowl of shit these last few days. Now with her here, it looked like a shit buffet.

She kissed Jyme on his cheek and came to the doctor’s side of the bed. She bent down and kissed my forehead and then turned away from me. I wiped her kiss right off my forehead like a first or second grader would do. I was pathetic. Jyme watched me with a smirk and started whispering to Mrs. JJ. I wanted to pull the covers over my head until she left.
Why was she even here
?
This woman couldn’t stand me.

There was a knock at the door. And Jyme called out for them to come in. It was a nurse with a tray of food; she asked me if I wanted the chicken or beef broth. I pointed towards the chicken; she gave me two containers of applesauce and two cartons of apple juice. I sucked half the broth down and drank both cartons of juice.

Jyme and Mrs. JJ were in some kind of major conversation on the couch. They were so close that their foreheads almost touched. They were whispering and they both looked strained. Jyme noticed me watching them; he walked back over to the bed and pulled my hand into his. I tugged away from him, but he held on and sat down next to me on the bed. “Babe, I have to leave for a few hours, and Mom is going to sit with you until I get back,” he stated.

I shook my head frantically at him. I was pissed at him right now, but I didn’t want to be left with her.

“Listen, if there was anybody else I trusted, they would be here. Chelle and Ayashe are both at work, and Mom is already here.”

I looked around the room, then put my pinky and thumb up to my ear. He turned around and unplugged my phone from the socket by the windowsill. He handed it to me. When I touched the screen, the security swipe was gone. I frowned at the phone and looked at Jyme.

“I had to reset the security code on your phone. I needed to get in there. No one knew what had happened to you.” I thought about that for a minute, but it didn’t seem right. My phone would let anyone answer even with the security code in place. All he had needed to do was to wait for someone to call. No, Jyme wanted inside my phone for some other reason.

I laid the phone down and slid deeper into the bed.

“You need to get some rest,” he said. He leaned down to kiss me, and I turned away from him. He rolled his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said. I kept my head turned from him as he walked out the room. Then, I closed my eyes, praying for sleep.

I woke up at a knock. Mrs. JJ went to open the door instead of shouting the ok to come in. There was a corner wall between me and the door, blocking my view of the visitor. Mrs. JJ backed up, and O walked in. I grinned and waived frantically at her. I was so happy to see O, and she ran over to me and hugged me.

“How are you?” she asked.

I pointed to my throat and mouthed, “Better.”

“Are you in any pain?” she asked.

I mouthed “no” at her and shook my head.

“We miss you so much, and poor D’Artagnan has been going cray cray without you,” she said.

I poked out my bottom lip, showing my sympathy for him. Then, there was another knock at the door.

“Oh, let him in. It’s our boss,” O called out to Mrs. JJ.

D’Artagnan walked in with a weary look and gave me a small smile. He sat in Jyme’s chair next to the bed and pulled my hand into his. “Cricket, you looked fine at lunch yesterday. If I had known I could have…I should have…” he broke off.