The Family Business 5 Page 7

  I fought the urge to scream. In my head, I was saying, Bitch, if you don’t take me to my son! But I mustered up enough self-control to politely respond.

  “I understand, but I’m his mother, and I need to be back there with him.”

  She sighed heavily, as if I was annoying her. “Look, there are already two people back there with him, and that’s the limit. I don’t make the rules.”

  I took a deep breath, reached in my purse, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, which I placed on the desk. “Are you sure? I think there’s only one person back there. The other one left.”

  She looked around to see if anyone was watching, then slipped the hundred-dollar bill under the desk and into her pocket. “You have ID?” she asked.

  Greedy bitch.

  I handed her my driver’s license, and she printed out a sticker with my name. “Curtain seventeen. Wait at the door to the left, and they’ll buzz you in.”

  I snatched up the sticker and attached it to my shirt. A few seconds later, I was in the triage area, looking for my son.

  “Mom!”

  I saw Paris racing toward me with Sasha right behind her.

  “Where’s Rio?” I pulled them into my arms. I could see that they’d both been crying, which made me even more anxious to see my baby.

  “They took him to do some X-rays. The doctor told us to wait here,” Paris said, taking me by the hand and leading me into a small room made of curtains.

  “Sit here, Aunt Chippy.” Sasha pointed to one of the two empty chairs.

  “No thanks, baby. I’m too anxious to sit,” I told her. “What are they saying? Is he hurt bad?”

  “They beat him up pretty bad. He was unconscious, but he woke up right before they took him down for X-rays. The doctor says he might have a concussion and a few broken ribs,” Paris replied. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have never brought him to that club.”

  “This is not your fault. That boy lives in those clubs.” I put my arms around her as she cried on my shoulder. Seeing her so upset made me worry even more. Paris was the one child who rarely showed any kind of emotion, and she never cried, unless it was to get her way. She feared nothing and no one, but right now, she was scared.

  “I should have stayed and taken care of whoever did this,” Paris said.

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” Vegas said as he walked into the tiny room. The bitch at the front desk would be going home with plenty of extra cash that day, I thought.

  “We’d just be trading one mess for another. Now, can someone tell me what the hell happened?” Vegas asked.

  “We were at a nightclub in Harlem, having a good time,” Sasha said. “Rio went to the bathroom, and when he didn’t come back, I got worried and went looking for Paris. We found him on the bathroom floor, beat really badly.”

  “Nobody saw nothing?” Vegas asked.

  “We don’t know,” Paris told him. “We were too focused on taking care of Rio until the ambulance arrived. Plenty of people standing around gawking at us, but not one of them stepped up to say shit to us. I should have—”

  “So, did they rob him?” I interrupted. “Is that what this was?”

  “No, it wasn’t a robbery. They didn’t take anything from him. He still has his wallet, his jewelry, and his phone. It was something else,” Paris said.

  “Do you think they targeted him because he’s . . . ?”

  “Gay?” Sasha finished my question, shaking her head.

  “Nah, definitely not,” Paris answered.

  “How do you know? Gay dudes is getting bashed every day,” Vegas said.

  I hated the way that sounded, but Vegas wasn’t wrong.

  Paris shook her head. “Before Rio went to get X-rays, he told us the guy kept asking about his girl. He kept saying Rio slept with his girl.”

  “Yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Sasha chimed in.

  “Family of Rio Duncan?” A young guy wearing a white lab coat and blue scrubs entered the cramped space. Vegas stepped aside to make room for him.

  “Yes? I’m his mother.”

  “I’m Dr. Crandle. I’m treating your son.”

  “How is he? Is he okay? Can we bring him home?”

  “He’s pretty banged up, ma’am. X-rays show he has a couple of broken ribs and a sprained wrist. He also has a pretty bad concussion, so we took him up for a head CT and a couple of other tests,” Dr. Crandle explained.

  “So when can we take him home?” Vegas asked.

  “We’re going to hold him overnight for observation. We don’t like to take chances with head injuries. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” I shook his hand.

  “You’re welcome. That’s one lucky young man. Looks like someone tried to kill him with their bare hands, and they almost succeeded,” the doctor said, placing his iPad under his arm. “He must have had God on his side.”

  “Yeah, well the ones who did this are gonna wish they had God on their side,” I whispered to my kids after the doctor left. I glanced at Vegas, and he read my eyes, nodding his understanding. He walked out of the room to go handle his business.

  LC

  14

  There wasn’t an empty parking space at the Marriott in Columbus, Georgia. The lot was overflowing with police cruisers, SUVs, and any other law enforcement vehicle you could imagine. Inside, the Victorian Ballroom was just as crowded with the drivers of those vehicles. Men and women in various uniforms all sat at round tables in front of half-eaten baked chicken and rice pilaf, listening as Derrick Hughes, newly elected president of the National Sheriffs Association, gave his acceptance speech. Tall and broad-shouldered, Derrick had the build of a Marvel superhero and a voice as deep as Barry White’s. It was obvious from the applause that erupted the members in attendance felt he was the right man to lead them.

  Junior and I stood in the back of the ballroom, where we’d slipped in unnoticed. I felt a bit of pride and satisfaction as I watched the young man at the podium. Not only had he won the election in his own county in Georgia three years ago, which was no small feat for a black man, but now, he’d been voted into an even higher position of power. The Duncan family donations and political connections had helped him win the election.

  Derrick and I made eye contact, and I nodded.

  “Now, I’d like to take the time to introduce a man who has been supportive of our organization throughout the years. He’s here to share a few words with us this afternoon. Mr. LC Duncan, Chairman of Duncan Motors. Let’s give him a hand,” Derrick announced.

  There was some polite applause as I made my way to the front of the room and stood behind the podium.

  “Good afternoon, and thank you, Derrick. It’s certainly a pleasure to be here today with you all to celebrate the induction of all of your fine leaders. We at Duncan Motors know the work that you and your departments put in day after day and how dangerous it is out there protecting and serving your communities. Sadly, we also know that they don’t pay your officers and staff anywhere close to what they’re worth, which is why we support you the way we do,” I said.

  “And we appreciate it!” someone in the crowd yelled over the applause that my remark received.

  “We appreciate you too.” I smiled. “And we will continue to show our appreciation. But, this year, we wanted to do something a little special for you. So, each of your departments will be the recipient of a brand-new chase car, courtesy of Duncan Motors.”

  The applause became louder, and animated conversations broke out at a few of the tables.

  “Now, these aren’t just regular chase cars. These are brand-new 2020 Corvette police interceptors, completely outfitted with everything you need and more. And let me tell you, there won’t be a vehicle out there that you can’t catch in a high-speed chase.”

  A particularly enthusiastic guy in the front row yelled out, “Are you serious? Whoa!”

  “Yes, I’m serious.” I laughed. “Oh, and in case you’re wondering, each one of these babies runs ab
out a hundred and fifty grand, so Duncan Motors won’t be covering the insurance on them. That’s gonna be on y’all.”

  “Oh, then I’ll be the only one in my department driving that some-bitch. Might as well park it in my driveway right now,” a sheriff in a mustard-colored uniform yelled as laughter erupted from the officers at his table.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” I joked. “In addition to the cars, we would also like to continue our support of your children and widow’s benevolent fund. Junior?”

  Junior walked up to the podium and held up the large cardboard he carried. The audience gave a standing ovation at the oversized check made out to the National Sheriffs Association in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.

  Derrick came over and shook my hand. “Thanks for coming out, LC. We truly appreciate your support.”

  We did the obligatory pose with the check for a few pictures, then Junior and I returned to the back of the room while Derrick wrapped up the meeting. Many of the attendees shook my hand and thanked me personally as they exited. I’d known many of those sheriffs for years. The value of building relationships with law enforcement was a lesson I’d learned a long time ago, and ironically, I’d learned it from KD Shrugs and his cronies.

  Derrick came to stand with me and Junior as the last stragglers were filing out. “LC, this was an unexpected surprise,” Derrick said.

  “We needed to talk—and it never hurts to have a PR moment and show a goodwill gesture to law enforcement,” I told him. “Congratulations again. You should be very proud of yourself.”

  “Hey, I couldn’t have done it without you and your family’s support. Any of it.”

  “Well, you’ve always been the right guy for the job, and everyone knows it. I’m just glad we were able to help you spread the word. Let’s take a walk,” I suggested.

  The three of us exited the ballroom out the back door to where Junior and I had parked, away from everyone else. It was empty except for one of the cooks, who stood several yards away, smoking a cigarette and talking on his cell phone. He didn’t even glance in our direction.

  “I’ll pull the car up, Pop,” Junior said, giving Derrick and me some privacy.

  “So, how are things going so far?” I asked, looking over to make sure the cook was still ignoring us. “Any dissention in the ranks?”

  “No, not really, thanks to those envelopes that were placed under everyone’s hotel room doors. Sheriff Richards and his buddies are still a little sore that he lost, but they’ll get over it. The rest of them all seem to have fallen in line.” He smirked.

  “Well, I’ll have to see what we can do to appease Sheriff Richards and his people. Help keep them in the ranks.”

  “That would be appreciated.” Derrick became serious. “So, what did you really want to discuss?”

  “I’m concerned about one of your predecessors, KD Shrugs in Texas. I’ve spent the past few days talking to some of our mutual friends, and we’re concerned that he’s planning something, and it needs to be nipped in the bud.”

  “You do realize that Shrugs is done. He’s a nobody, a convicted felon.” Derrick shook his head as if KD were the least of his problems. “I’d be more concerned about Richards than him.”

  “Richards can be controlled. KD can’t. He’s too ambitious. He’s also got friends all over the South that he’s helped to make a lot of money. The kind of people who would love to see me and you in the fields.” I studied his expression. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “One hundred percent, and I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. I’ll see what I can find out and put this Shrugs in his place as quickly as possible.”

  “Smart man.” I patted him on the shoulder as Junior pulled the car around. “But remember, we’re talking about a man who’s ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. You be careful.”

  Roman

  15

  After a night spent in the Miami airport, guzzling coffee and Red Bull to stay awake, Kandace and I were finally able to get on a flight back to New York. I put her in a Lyft back to her apartment and then went straight to Mercy General Hospital. As I walked through the doors, I said a quick prayer for my mother’s health. I’d tried calling Aunt Coretta from the airport but got no answer. What if the worst had happened and she just didn’t want to tell me over the phone?

  I took a deep breath to steady myself before I opened the door to my mother’s room. Other than the fact that she was hooked up to some beeping machines, she kinda looked like she was resting—better than I had imagined she would. Aunt Coretta was leaned back in a chair in the corner, snoring loudly like she’d worked an overnight shift.

  Not wanting to wake them, I quietly moved the empty chair to my mother’s bedside. As soon as I sat in it, her eyes fluttered open.

  “Roman,” she whispered and smiled.

  “Hey, Mama,” I said. “How you feeling?”

  “Tired.”

  Aunt Coretta sat up. “Roman, when you get here?”

  “A few minutes ago. What are the doctors saying?”

  “They haven’t really said nothing. Just waiting on test results.” Aunt Coretta stretched and yawned.

  “I’m fine, baby,” Mama told me.

  Looking at her, I knew that wasn’t true. She was breathing heavily, even with the oxygen tube in her nose, and she could hardly keep her eyes open. Even though I knew that was probably due to the drugs they had her on, there was a slight look of worry on her face that I’d never seen before.

  “You’re not fine, Mama. You’re in the ICU. Having a heart attack is not fine.” I turned to my aunt. “I need to talk to the doctors and find out what’s going on.”

  Mama reached over and touched my arm. “I’m sure they’ll be in here shortly. They’re doing rounds.”

  There was a tap on the door, and as if he had sensed we were talking about him, a tall, white-haired doctor walked in.

  “How are you doing? I’m Dr. Ford,” he said as he walked over to the bedside.

  “I’d be doing better if I knew what was going on with my mother.”

  “Roman, don’t start,” Aunt Coretta warned.

  “I’m not starting nothing. We’ve been waiting all night for answers, and nobody seems to know anything. I done came from halfway across the country to get here and still don’t know nothing except she had a heart attack.”

  “I understand your frustration. Mr. Johnson, is it?” the doctor asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “We just wanted to make sure we had some of her test results before we made a definitive diagnosis.”

  “Well, what’s the diagnosis?” I asked loudly.

  Dr. Ford turned his back to me and spoke to my mother. “How you feeling today, Ms. Johnson?”

  “I’ve definitely felt better,” Mama said. “Feels like an elephant done sat on my chest.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it does.” The doctor leaned down to listen to her breathing.

  I watched as he moved the stethoscope around her chest, asking her questions like I wasn’t standing there waiting for him to answer the one I’d asked him.

  Finally, he turned around and said, “It appears your mother suffered a heart attack last night.”

  “We know that,” I replied, frustrated.

  “Roman, please.” Aunt Coretta scolded me, then turned to the doctor and apologized. “I’m sorry about my nephew’s agitation. Like he said, he traveled all night, so his patience is a little thin because he needs a nap.”

  “I don’t need you apologizing for me, Aunt Coretta,” I snapped at her.

  “It’s fine,” the doctor said. “In addition, she’s in acute renal failure.”

  “Her kidneys?” Aunt Coretta stood and walked over to be closer.

  “Yes. She’s been sick for a while. She’s lucky to be alive, and we’re going to do everything to keep her comfortable,” he said.

  “So, will she have to be on dialysis?” Aunt Coretta asked.

 
; “Honestly, I don’t think right now that’s an option. Her heart is very weak, and I don’t believe her body would be able to handle dialysis.”

  “No dialysis?” I yelled. “What the fuck? My mother needs help. What are you gonna do for her?”

  “Can she have a transplant?” Aunt Coretta’s voice cracked, and I realized she was on the verge of crying. She and my mother were super close.

  “Like I said, it’s too early to—”

  I cut him off. “Give her mine.”

  “Roman, no.” Mama, who hadn’t said a word while the doctor was updating us, now spoke emphatically. “I won’t allow you to do that.”

  “I think our first goal is to let her get some rest and wait for the other tests,” Dr. Ford said. “I’ll be back this afternoon to check on you, Ms. Johnson.” He thanked us and walked out of the room.

  I looked over at my mother and rubbed the top of her hand, carefully avoiding the IV line attached to it. She’d been a good mother, a hard worker, and a great provider. She’d always been there for me, even when she shouldn’t have been. Now, it was time for me to be there for her.

  “I’ll be right back, Mama.” I went into the hallway, looking for the doctor. I spotted him at the end of the hallway, just as he was about to enter another patient’s room. “Dr. Ford. Yo!”

  He turned around and waited as I sprinted over to him.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Johnson?”

  “I want you to do whatever you have to to give my mother one of my kidneys. I don’t care what it takes or how much it costs.”

  He let out a small sigh like he had sympathy for me, or else he was sick of my ass. Either way, I didn’t care. This was my mother’s life we were talking about.

  “I understand you wanting to help her, but donating a kidney is a major undertaking, medically speaking,” he said.

  “I don’t care. What I gotta do?”

  He glanced at the door to the other patient’s room like I was holding him up. “Well, the first thing we have to do is run some tests to see if you’re even a match.”