Page 147 of Anything Necessary for Her
Stepping off the elevator, I paid close attention to the room numbers until finally arriving at Trayvon’s. The door was slightly cracked, but I still knocked to alert that I was entering. As soon as I did, I spotted Trayvon and his cousin Felicia, who brightened up at the sight of me.
“I haven’t seen you in forever.” She rushed up to me, embracing me tightly.
“I know. Trayvon and I aren’t . . .” I let my words trail off when she nodded to say she already knew.
I stepped in closer to see him and how terrible he looked. His face was still intact, but his eyes held a defeat I didn’t recognize, causing my stomach to sink.
For the first time in my life, I saw the downside of dating a hood nigga. I thought of all the times Asif called Low reckless and complained about how he moved.
“Oh, nah, you gotta leave,” Trayvon said as soon as his eyes landed on me.
“Trayvon—”
“She gotta go!” he bellowed, cutting his cousin’s sentence off. “Nurse!” He began assaulting the button with his good hand. “Leave!” He growled at me so fiercely it almost made me jump back.
“Trayvon, what is wrong?—”
“Mr. Gainer? Is everything alright?” The nurse barged in, rushing to his bed.
“No. Get this woman out of my room. I don’t want any visits outside of family!” He pointed at me like he was Celie and I was Mister inThe Color Purple.
“Trayvon—”
“No, it’s fine,” I said to Felicia, shaking my head so she wouldn’t continue to go to bat for me.
I was 90 percent sure Low was behind it on the way here, but seeing Trayvon’s reaction sealed the deal for me. Trayvon wasfrightened, and I knew that fright had only been inserted by way of Willow Harris.
I turned to leave, hurrying to the elevator because not only did I feel bad, but I was slightly ashamed at how Trayvon was yelling at me in front of his cousin and nurse.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, power walking off the elevator and then out of the hospital. The recognizable Maybach parked right up front in the space meant for women in labor caused me to freeze mid-step.
“Get in the car, Peep.” Low rolled the window down as I tried to act as if I didn’t notice his car and bypass it.
“I drove myself,” I almost sputtered, a little scared at the moment. How did he even find me here? And what the fuck would he think about me being here for another man? I needed time to think of a good excuse, and I couldn’t do that riding in his car.
Low said nothing, popping the locks before he gulped down some of his pineapple Fanta, staring straight ahead. His tattoos danced along his brown, muscled arms as he did so, while I glanced around wondering if I could run to my damn car.
Low climbed out, rounded the back, then opened his passenger door for me. He was standing there looking like a tall glass of milk chocolate in a wife beater, joggers, socks, and corduroy slippers, his cologne dancing in the air.
Realizing there was no way out of this, I walked gingerly to the car and slid inside.
He hopped in on the driver’s side, then sped out straightaway.
“Fuck you doing up here visiting that nigga for, Banks?” Banks? Yeah, he was pissed. “Like you this nigga wife or some shit?” He was speeding through the streets.
“Because I feel bad, Low. You did that to him even after I said to leave him alone and that he was harmless.” I spoke ascollectedly as I could, even though I was pissed and shaken up by the look on Trayvon’s face.
“You said not to kill him, and I didn’t.”
“You might as well have! Look what you did to him! His whole life is baseball, and now he may lose his contract with the Bandanas!” I yelled.
“I warned him.” He shook his head, eyes on the road, seat leaned back too far for safety, and his hand gripping the wheel. “Told him to leave you the fuck alone and that if he didn’t, I was gon’ ruin his fucking life. I made it clear that I wasn’t a nigga to say shit twice and that if I had to see him again, it would only be to make good on my fucking threat. Nigga lucky I ain’t put him down for hitting ya line, but shit,” Low looked to me and added, “maybe I should.”
“You better not!”
“Or what? Huh?” His attention kept oscillating between me and the road. “Fuck you gon’ do, leave? You ain’t no fucking snitch—I know that much—so that’s the only thing I’m thinking.”
“Maybe I will leave your reckless ass.” I looked out the window, unable to stop shaking my head.
