Page 72 of Memphis

Relief flooded me as I moved closer to her, yanking her into a hug.

“You missed me?” she crooned.

“Yeah…yeah,” I breathed.

41

“You missed me?” I softly asked as I sat in a chair next to his bed, rubbing his dry hand.

His chest tube—whatever the-fuck that was—had become clogged with blood clots, per the doctor. This caused Bo’s injured lung to collapse, which led to him having trouble breathing, and now, he was back on the ventilator. I was…I’mnot sure. I suppose I was somewhere between blindingly angry and utterly shattered.

So much time wasted. So much time wasted hating him. So much time wasted wanting him. Now, I had him, and some motherfucker was on the brink of taking him away from me.

Life was such a rigged game.

Resting my head on the mattress beside Bo, I worked to convince myself not to charge out of the hospital and into his mother’s house to shoot up the entire family. It took A LOT of work.

“Bo, I know you can hear me. I just…I feel like…shit.” Since my words were failing me, I closed my mouth and sat there in silence. It was all I could do.

“You taking care of yourself?I know that’s your husband, but you got your own health to think about, baby girl,” my daddy said into the phone.

“I’m fine,” I replied as I paced the little snack room adjacent to the ICU waiting area. “I went downstairs to the lab for my scheduled phlebotomy this morning. I’m taking my aspirin. Resting as best I can. Not feeling bad or anything.”

“Well, you sound tired.”

“I’m not,” I lied.

“Uh-huh…Memphis, what is that man into to get shot like that in his own home? That’s a good neighborhood y’all living in. Stuff like that don’t happen out there.”

I sighed, stopping in my tracks for a second before resuming my pacing. “He works in corporate. He’s not into anything.” Another necessary lie.

“Mm-hmm, I don’t know what I did for you and Lilly to fool with these types of men. I would say be careful, but knowing you, I need to warn whoever shot him instead.”

That made me smile. “Daddy, I gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you more, baby girl.”

No sooner than that call ended, one came through from Montana.

“Hey,” I answered, “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls or messages. I had to rush back to the hospital a couple days ago and?—”

“No worries. Jerryn filled me in on everything. I thought I’d give you a day or two before calling again,” she said.

“Thanks. So…what’s the word? Anything on the bodyguard?”

“Yes! Finally!” she chirped. “But first…how is hubby?”

“He’s…I don’t know.”

“Yeah. So…Jafar is an alias orwasan alias.”

“Shit, he’s dead?”

“Yes. His real name was Nealy Watts.”

“Damn, that ain’t no better than the alias.”

“I know, right? Anyway, he was twenty-nine, a Detroit native, and he was found dead in a hotel in Parkton. Um, the Starlight Hotel. Drug overdose.”

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