The Face That Launched A Thousand Bullets (The Cartel Publications Presents) (13 page)

  “How you gonna tell me it’s a muscular contraction?” he said angry at her response. “I asked her a question and she responded by grippin’ my hand.”

  “Okay, son.” She patted his back lightly. “I see you’re upset. Let me show you.”

“Tara,” she said, soothingly by her beside. She grabbed her hand. “I’m nurse Cassandra Wells. We’re pullin’ for you, sweetheart, and if you can hear me, please grip my hand.”

“Son, I don’t want to set you up for unrealistic expectations, that’s all.” She said trying to diffuse the matter. “Now I have to go, call me if you need me.”

She left the room.

He looked at Tara, closed his eyes and said a prayer. It was about time for him and God to have a conversation.

“God, I know I’m not the best man. I may even be the worse. I did some things I’m not proud of. A lot of stuff I can’t take back. But I love this woman, with all my heart, and I’m askin’ that You not punish her for my shortcomings. Please, Father. I’m willing to try my hardest to become a better person. A better man. Amen.”

He was finishing his prayer when Shy walked into the room holding a big bouquet of flowers. He strolled in like Big Red at Jimmy’s funeral in the movie,
The Five Heartbeats
.

“You a’ight, man?” he asked, placing one hand on his shoulder after placing the flowers on the night table.

The moment Kavon heard his voice he stood up and faced him. His eyes still red and face wet with tears. He was far from a punk, but everything happening to Tara had him fucked up. As if he knew what Kavon needed, Shy gripped him in a manly embrace. Kavon broke down. He hadn’t cried that hard since the death of his mother.

“Why, man?” he said, looking at him. “Why would somebody do her like this?”

“I don’t know, but when we find out, we gonna murder dem mothafuckas. You hear what I’m sayin’, B? We layin’ the murder game down.” He paced the floor. “And then she carryin’ your seed. Is everything okay with that?”

Kavon was still crying when he thought about what he said. How did he know she was pregnant? He didn’t have a chance to say anything to him outside of meet him at the hospital, and that Tara had been hurt.

“How you know?” he said wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I ain’t wanna tell you,” he said real low. “But Tara told me in the kitchen the night we went to the cabaret. That’s what we were really talkin’ about.”

“For real?” he said, scratching his head. He heard him, but something didn’t sound correct. Why would she tell him before he told Kavon?

“Yeah…she said she had a feeling you were gonna propose and shit cause you kept fuckin’ wit her ring finger. So she was going to tell you the night you asked her to marry you. She wanted it to be a surprise.”

Kavon smiled when he remembered he may have gone a little overboard with trying to get an idea of her ring size.

“For real my man, I’m not thinkin’ bout that right now.” Kavon thought it a bit insensitive to be talking about business at a time like this.

“I feel you.” Shy realized he might have gone too far. “I just want you to know the offer still stands.”

Kavon gave him some dap and Shy walked over to Tara’s bedside. Wanting to give him some privacy, Kavon sat in the chair across the room.

When he was out of Kavon’s earshot, Shy placed one hand on hers and said, “Don’t worry, Tara. This shit is almost over. And when you come to, I’ma grab yo ass outta here by your mothafuckin’ hair and finish what I started.”

Kavon was on his way out to tell someone there was trouble but the doctor and the nurse from earlier came rushing inside. They flew into a frenzy of activity and Kavon was terrified that he had lost Tara for good.

“You two have to leave.” The doctor said as more staff members came in.

They didn’t move. Both of them wanted to see what was happening. They both had motives. One good. The other bad.

When she opened her eyes, Kavon’s heart dropped. She looked scared. It was as if she’d seen the devil. Kavon pushed past the staff members so he could be the first one she saw. She spotted him and reached out for him. The doctors couldn’t pull him away if they tried. She had to tell him something and she had to tell him now.

“K…K…Kavon.” She said trying hard to speak.

“Yes, baby. Yes. I’m here.” He stooped down and clasped her hand. She whispered something in his ear.

The staff members covered Shy’s view. He wondered what she was saying. But when Kavon submerged from the hustle of the staff members who were struggling to make sure she was okay, the look in his eyes told Shy everything he wanted to know. And if looks could kill, Shy would be dead. Kavon walked slowly over to him. Shy dug in his coat and put his hand on his heat. Kavon stopped a few feet in front of him when he noticed.

“Well, when you’re ready for that time, let me know.” He said, his hand still on his heat hidden from the average view. He left the room backwards eyes glued onto Kavon’s.

“I will see you again.”

“Not if I see you first.”

“Time will tell.” Kavon said. “You can count on it.”

Crayland Bailor

Baltimore, January, 1989

Birthday Boy

T
he cool air ripping at his face could not stop Cray from rushing home to see the cake his father got for his birthday. He was so excited he left Markise and Jason at school because Jason had to double back inside to get his house keys and Cray was too anxious to wait.

Once at the door he flew inside leaving the front door swinging.

“Boy what you doin’ runnin’ in here like that?!” His father was sitting on the couch watching TV with a can of beer in his hands resting on his knee.

Cray thought he was playing with him. He did a little research of his own with his eyes to see if he had the cake stashed somewhere. He remembered he’d tricked him before by hiding the gifts and the cake one year for his birthday.

“Let me find out I’m raising a little girl instead, who’s still into cakes and shit! You betta toughen up Cray! You startin’ be act weak. Now get the fuck out of my face.”

Cray’s nose burned a little as he thought about what was happening.

“Now!” he yelled giving him a look that said he was preparing to punch him in his face if he didn’t obey him.

Huffing and puffin, Cray bolted through the front door and outside the apartment. His heart ached because his birthday was the one day that belonged to him. He allowed his parents the other 364 days of the year to fuck up his life.

What was he going to tell his friends? They’re parents had already gave them the okay to stay over. He hated his life and everything about it.

Once outside Frankie the dog ran up to him. Out of everyone, he migrated to Cray the most. In his mind they were the same. Alone. Unloved and Misunderstood.

Angry and upset, Cray sat on the steps and begin petting the animal. Suddenly he started to think about his fucked up family. His fucked up life, and never having what he wanted. Happiness. Sometimes he wished someone killed him. Better yet, he wished his parents didn’t exist anymore. He wished he was strong enough to kill them himself, and then he wouldn’t have to wait for them to die. When he came out of his thoughts, he realized he had the dog’s neck in his grasp, with both hands. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth and he had squeezed his throat so tightly, he was dead.

Jumping up Cray looked around to see who was watching. No one was. How could he kill the only thing outside of his friends that loved him? His mind raced and he felt worse. He was a killer. He was cold and heartless. He was a little of his father and some of his mother. He made up his mind that he was going for self, no matter what and suddenly a sense of calm came over him.

The dog’s death symbolized how he felt about life. The death of Frankie, was just the beginning.

“Cray! Cray!” He heard yelling from his bedroom window.

It sounded like Jason’s fat ass.

He walked over to the window and sure enough, Jason was outside staring up at him while Markise was whispering something in some big butt girl’s ears. He shook his head at the scene because he felt Markise was worried about the wrong things in life, coochie.

Devon was his first cousin on his father’s side. He was twenty years old and the coolest dude he knew. Devon didn’t have as much cash as Melody, but he had enough to floss to be his age.

“A’ight! Tell him I’m comin’ out now.” He shut the window.

Cray grabbed his book bag and lifted the mattress to grab the gun he found. He looked at it and walked over to the mirror in the aiming position. He knew he didn’t know the first thing about using a gun, but if he was scared enough, he ventured to say he would learn. Once the gun was tucked in his bag, he walked out the door.

Outside

Devon leaned against his black Acura Integra and kicked what he thought was knowledge to Cray and his friends. Some of the stories were interesting, but most of them were ridiculous.

The one good thing about Devon coming over was that he always had cash and he was always willing to spend it on them. Devon had his black Eddie Bauer coat on with his Guess jeans and green Gucci sneakers. He was beyond fine and knew it. His deep chocolate skin had a scar directly under his left eye. His hair stayed low and he kept a wave brush with him at all times. The women loved him the moment they laid eyes on him, and he loved them back.

“So we at Crazy John’s gettin’ some grub, and I’m tellin’ dis bitch to get in the car,” he started as he ate Shrimp Fried Rice, right out of the Chinese box. “So…she gonna holla

‘bout she not ready to go. So I tells the bitch, look bitch, get yo ass in this car or you bout to get left.”